Page 245 of Corrupting Camille

“She’s not to be involved,” he says darkly, each word clipped and razor-sharp.

Javi nods once, accepting without question.

I grit my teeth, frustration simmering beneath my skin. I hate being handled this way, gently nudged aside as if I’m too fragile, too breakable, incapable of surviving the flames just because I wasn’t forged in them. I’ve survived worse, and I’m tired of being underestimated.

Kane senses the ripple of my anger. His palm presses lightly to the small of my back, warm through my shirt, steadying me as he leans down, his breath hot near my ear.

“Go upstairs,” he murmurs softly, fiercely. “I’ll come find you.”

His words sound more like a promise than a command, but my pulse quickens all the same.

Kane

“Kane…”

Her voice is barely audible, that soft hesitant sound that slices through my chest, stripping me raw. She already knows my answer, knows the shadows clawing beneath my skin, but she wants to hear it anyway.

“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”

I freeze in the doorway, fingers tightening viciously around the button of my jacket. My throat is sandpaper when I speak. “Just to the office.”

But she sees right through my bullshit. She always does.

Her arms are crossed, hugging herself like she’s bracing for impact. Wind-tangled curls spill down over my shirt, my shirt, marking her, claiming her. Yet her eyes search mine as if she already senses the chasm opening between us, inch by ruthless inch.

“To deal with Luis?” Her voice is quieter now, careful. Like she’s creeping toward a loaded weapon.

Me.

“Yes,” I say bluntly, and her gaze sharpens, worry slipping through the cracks. She fears for me, not of me and that tiny, brutal truth is a blade to the chest every fucking time.

“Are you going to hurt him?”

Her voice trembles, not from weakness, but from the bitter knowledge of who I am, what I’m capable of. I pause, my voice coming out harsh, a razor-thin whisper.

“You want the truth?”

She doesn’t waver. “Always.”

“Then yes.” I step toward her slowly, deliberately. “Because he betrayed me.” Another step. Closer. “Because he betrayed you.”

She sucks in a breath, eyes darkening. Her chest rises and falls rapidly beneath my shirt.

“Men who betray us don’t get the mercy of walking away.” I continue, voice dropping, a lethal promise simmering beneath every syllable.

Her eyes hold mine, and there’s no shock, no judgment just a quiet, crushing acceptance of the monster she chose.

“I’m not sorry for what I have to do,” I admit quietly. “But…Camille, I hate that you have to witness it.”

She lowers her gaze briefly, a shadow crossing her face, but when she lifts her chin again, steel glints through the softness.

“Does it ever get easier?” she whispers.

I flinch internally, her words like a scalpel carving through old scars. “What?”

“Being this ruthless.”

Her question guts me, honest, unflinching. I meet her stare, jaw tightening until it aches.