Page 86 of Guarded Knight

Come on, Lara. G is out there. Anton, too. And apparently, at least a couple of police officers to take Cameron in if he comes.

And he will come.

I flip my cell over on the arm of the chair and read his latest plea.

CAMERON

I JUST WANT TO TALK. TO EXPLAIN MYSELF.

I want it to be over. My palms are slick. My stomach won’t stop flipping, but this is what I signed up for. I said I could handle it. But now that the sky is dark and the fire is dying and I’m the only heartbeat in this cabin, I’m not so sure.

I try to remember the Cameron I thought was a half-decent guy. The one I thought was a bit of an entitled frat boy but not capable of this much harm.

I place my laptop down on the floor next to me when a sudden knuckle tap on glass splits the silence.

My whole body jolts, and though I’m afraid to spin, I do as a reflex. There, against the windowpane are his eyes sheltered by curved palms, peering right at me.

Cameron.

My blood turns to ice.

He knocks harder. Louder this time.

“Lara!” he calls. His voice is muffled but unmistakable. “I just want to talk.”

I force myself to stay seated. Stay still. He has to walk in here uninvited. That’s the law for trespassing.

I questioned Gabriel about it more than once, and he reassured me that, in California, simply walking through that door can get Cameron six months.

He talks through the window, but I keep my back to him.

“I know you probably don’t want to see me,” he pleads. “I know things got weird but I never stopped caring about you. I just want a chance to explain.”

His voice is too smooth. Too measured. Like he’s rehearsed this in the mirror a hundred times. There’s no rage. No sadness. Just that awful, syrupy calm some men use before they snap.

He leaves the window.

There’s a long, awful pause.

I hold my breath, straining to hear something, anything. The crunch of gravel. The rustle of trees. Even wind through the eaves would be better than the eerie silence wrapped around me like a suffocating shroud.

I hear nothing.

No retreat. No footsteps. Just… absence.

Like he dissolved into the night.

Or like he’s still out there.

Watching.

Closer than I think.

I tighten my fingers around the armrest. I count to five. Then ten. My heart’s thudding, trying to escape my chest so it can get the hell out of this cabin.

Where is he?

The snap of a branch outside makes me flinch so hard my teeth click. I slap a hand over my mouth, as if silence might protect me now. As if stillness could make me invisible.