Page 4

Diego

“I don’t give a shit if you want her, Antonio, she is drunk, and you can’t fuck a drunk woman.” I grab the little shit's collar. “Your father pays me to keep you out of trouble, and the last thing we need is a fucking rape case.”

Antonio tries to shove me, but I am twice as strong as he is, and he knows it. He glares at me, thinking that it will phase me. His anger wouldn’t even make kittens run.

The alleyway is cold, and there is only one street lamp above us to light the area. I can hear the blaring music of La Vie–my least favorite place.

“Do I make myself clear, Antonio? You can deal with me, or you can deal with your father. The choice is yours.”

I see the flash of fear that crosses his eyes. Good. The little punk fears his father like he is the Grim Reaper. I have no idea what Maranelli did to the boy, but it's enough for me to use him as leverage.

I let Antonio go, and he walks back into the club, looking as pissed off as ever. It brings a smile to my face if I’m honest.

I dig into my pocket to retrieve a cigarette. I am only seconds from lighting it when I spot a flash of blonde hair at the end of the alleyway heading to the entrance of the club.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

I throw the unused cigarette from my lips onto the ground and make my way down the disgusting alleyway. The scent of piss is all over the wet concrete.

I move through the alleyway quickly, but as soon as I turn the corner, I see her make her way inside, pushing past the bouncers forcefully.

Dammit, Camille.

I make my way into the club. The fact that she is inside already means that she is lost within the sea of people. The only way I will be able to see her is if I go up onto the VIP deck that looks down on the regular dance floor.

I take the stairs two at a time, not wanting to waste any time. By the time I get to the top, I see Antonio sniffing a line. I roll my eyes and get to work finding this woman who just seems to want to die.

I grip the railing, my knuckles whitening as my heart slams against my ribs. She’s out of place here, a pale flame among wolves. Her blonde hair catches the dim light, glowing faintly as she moves deeper into the crowd. She doesn’t even look like she is dressed to be here. It’s not like she looks bad, but normal people don’t wear sweats to the club.

She keeps moving, weaving through the crowd with purpose, like she’s searching for something—or someone. Camille doesn’t belong in a place like this, surrounded by the kind of people who’d eat her alive if they got the chance. This isn't a coincidence. She’s looking for something. My gut tells me it has to do with étienne, with whatever pieces of his life she’s trying to put together.

Had I known that keeping her alive would be so difficult, I would have told étienne that I couldn't handle it.

I move along the edge of the balcony, keeping to the shadows as I track her. She doesn’t stop at the bar or the tables near the front. She’s heading for the back, where the players and dealers are. My chest tightens. Does she even know the danger she’s walking into?

She stops at a corner table, speaking to a man I recognize instantly—Julian Montague. My jaw tightens at the sight of him. He’s not one of ours, but he’s been circling the edges of the cartel for years, sniffing for opportunities. Dangerous, greedy, and completely unpredictable. If she’s asking him questions, she’s in over her head.

Montague leans forward, his grin sharp and predatory, and says something that makes her frown. I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers clutch the strap of her bag. She doesn’t trust him—good. But she’s still too close.

I shouldn’t intervene. Marco would have my head if he knew I was spending time shadowing her instead of focusing on the job. But I can’t just stand here and watch her walk into the lion’s den. Montague is dangerous. If he even suspects she has information that could be useful, he won’t let her leave quietly.

Camille nods at something Montague says, then pulls a folded piece of paper from her bag. She slides it across the table, her expression unreadable. What is she giving him? My pulse spikes as I lean forward, straining to see. Montague picks it up, scans it briefly, and then laughs—a loud, mocking sound that makes my blood boil.

She doesn’t flinch, though. Instead, she leans in closer, her lips moving quickly as she says something I can’t hear over the pounding music. Whatever it is, Montague’s grin fades, replaced by something colder, sharper. He stands abruptly, towering over her as he gestures toward the back hallway.

This is bad. Very bad. I clench my fists, my body taut with the urge to step in, to get between her and whatever trap she’s about to walk into. But I hold back, my mind racing. If I reveal myself now, I’ll blow everything—my cover, my mission, the delicate balance I’ve been trying to maintain.

But if I don’t, I might lose her.

Montague leads her down the hallway toward the back of the club, his steps deliberate and confident. My gut churns as I follow from above. This place is a trap for people like her—people who don’t know how quickly a conversation can turn into something worse.

The hallway splits, one path leading to the private VIP lounge, the other to a more secluded room where the real business happens. When Montague gestures toward the latter, Camille hesitates. Her body stiffens, her feet rooted to the spot for a moment before she squares her shoulders and follows him.

I descend the staircase quickly, slipping into the hallway just as the door to the back room swings shut behind them. I press my back to the wall outside the room, listening.

“I don’t care how long you’ve been in this business,” she snaps, her voice sharp. “You knew étienne. Don’t lie to me.”

A pause. Then Montague’s laugh—low, amused, and grating. “Knew him? Sweetheart, you’re going to have to be more specific. A lot of men come and go through this world. What makes you think your brother was special?”

There’s a loud thud, and it takes me a second to realize it’s her slamming her hand on the table.

“Don’t play games with me,” she demands, her voice trembling but fierce. “I know you worked with him. Your name is in his notes. If you know what happened to him, you must tell me.”

Her desperation cuts through me, sharp and raw. She’s teetering on the edge, but Montague won’t take pity on her. Men like him don’t show mercy.

Montague’s chair scrapes back, the sound harsh against the floor. His footsteps advance, slow and deliberate. “You’re starting to sound like a crazy woman,” he says, his voice laced with contempt. “Waving your brother’s ghost around like it’ll mean something to me. Maybe you should leave before you embarrass yourself further.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me the truth!” Camille’s voice rises, defiance barely masking the cracks in her resolve.

I push the door open, stepping inside before things can spiral further. Montague is too close, his bulk towering over her as she backs against the table. Her eyes dart toward me, widening in shock.

“You,” she breathes, her voice barely audible. Recognition flashes across her face, her mouth opening slightly as though she can’t believe what she’s seeing. “I know you. You were at my brother’s funeral.”

My chest tightens at her words, but I keep my expression cold. “We don’t have time for introductions,” I say, brushing past her toward Montague. “Step back.”

Montague smirks, his stare shifting between me and Camille. “What’s this?” he asks mockingly. “The knight in shining armor? Didn’t peg you for the type, Navarro.”

I ignore him, keeping my voice steady and low. “This isn’t her world. Let her go.”

Montague’s smirk fades, replaced by something harder. He steps closer, his eyes narrowing. “She came to me, making demands, throwing around names she doesn’t understand. You know how it works—actions have consequences.”

“Not tonight,” I say, my voice sharper now. “Let her leave, and this stays clean.”

For a long moment, Montague stares at me, tension crackling in the air between us. Finally, he steps back, his lips curling into a sneer. “Fine. Take her. But don’t expect me to be so generous next time.”

He walks past me, brushing my shoulder hard enough to make his point. The door slams shut behind him, leaving Camille and me alone in the suffocating silence.

She exhales sharply, her hands gripping the edge of the table as she steadies herself. Then her head snaps toward me, her expression a mix of anger and confusion.

“You were at my brother’s funeral.”

I remain stoically still. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But that is all besides the point. You need to leave, now.”

I reach for her arm but she pulls back. I reach for her again and she steps back. I give her my best glare and she matches my heat. For weeks, I have observed her from a distance and now, I'm finally seeing her up close. I cannot help but to admire her eyes. They are the deepest shade of blue. But this close, I can tell that they're not only blue but they have little bits of silver and gold mixed in. They are the most uniquely colored eyes I have ever seen in my life.

“How did you know my brother?”

“I didn’t.” The lies just keep piling up.

“No, I know exactly who you are. I remember you. You stood in the back just watching and leering. Why are you here? How did you know my brother? And don't say you didn’t, you attended his funeral.”

“Look, yes, I knew your brother, which is why I am telling you to get out of this place. This is no place for someone like you.”

Her brows furrow into a thin line, “What do you mean, someone like me?”

Good. Pure. Filled with light. She is all the things that this world loves to consume and I will be damned if I let this world swallow her whole.

“This is not a world you belong in, Camille. Leave now while you still have your soul intact.” I give her a hard stare, my voice laced with ice and cement. “Do yourself a favor and drop whatever self-righteous trip you are on right now.” I study her for a moment, my chest tightening at the fire in her eyes. She’s stubborn, reckless, and entirely too brave for her own good.

She glares at me, unyielding. “I don’t care if this world swallows me whole. Someone killed my brother and I am going to find out who did it. And if you aren’t going to help me, then just stay out of my way.”

I step closer, lowering my voice. “Whether you want it or not, I’m not letting you walk into another situation like this.”

Her eyes lock with mine, and for a second, the tension between us feels electric. Then she turns away, grabbing her bag from the table.

“Stay out of my way,” she mutters, brushing past me as she heads for the door.

I watch her go, my jaw tightening. She might think she can handle this, but I know the kind of people she’s dealing with. She’s in over her head, and whether she likes it or not, I’m going to make sure she survives this.

The music swells as the door to the main floor swings open, swallowing Camille as she disappears into the chaos of the club. I let out a slow breath, forcing myself to stay rooted. My first instinct is to follow her, to make sure she gets out safely, but the sound of a voice behind me stops me cold.

“She’s trouble, you know.”

I turn slowly, my hand instinctively brushing the grip of my gun. Montague leans against the doorway, his smirk replaced by a calculating stare. His posture is casual, but his eyes gleam with something sharper, more dangerous.

“Back off,” I warn, my voice low and firm.

Montague chuckles, a sound that sets my teeth on edge. “Relax, Navarro. I’m not here to fight. Just offering some friendly advice.” He steps closer, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud. “You’ve got that look in your eye—like you think she’s worth the trouble. Let me save you the heartbreak. She’s not.”

“She’s none of your concern,” I snap, my fists clenching at my sides.

“Oh, but I think she is. She is Dupont's sister, no? The same Dupont that you put a bullet in and the same one that has your bosses running around like headless chickens. The streets talk, Navarro.”

I don’t respond. My lack of answer only seems to amuse him.

“She doesn’t belong here,” he continues, his voice dropping. “She’s too soft, too naive. She’s not built for this world, Navarro. And if you get too close, she’s going to drag you down with her.”

I take a step forward, closing the distance between us. “Stay away from her.”

Montague’s grin widens, but his eyes remain cold. “Oh, I’m not the one you need to worry about. Dupont was on a suicide mission. It’s one of the reasons you had to put him down, after all. If she is sniffing around in our world, then you already have a problem. If you want her safe, you need to keep that little chihuahua from yapping.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. My jaw tightens, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, I step back, my eyes narrowing. “Like I said, she is none of your concern.”

He laughs again, shaking his head. “You’ve got it bad, Navarro. Good luck with that. But remember—if she gets in too deep, it won’t just be her blood on your hands.”

With that, he turns and walks away. I stay frozen for a moment, his words replaying in my head, each one heavier than the last.

By the time I make it back to the main floor, Camille is gone. My eyes sweep the room, searching for any sign of her, but the crowd has swallowed her whole. My chest tightens with frustration, the need to go after her warring with the warning still ringing in my ears.

I push through the exit, the cold night air hitting me like a slap. The streets are quieter now, the neon glow of the club casting distorted reflections on the wet pavement. My instincts scream at me to find her, but Montague’s words won’t leave me alone.

I'm not the only one watching her.

I light a cigarette, the sharp burn of smoke doing little to calm my nerves. Camille thinks she can handle this and that she can find answers without getting herself killed. But she doesn’t see the wolves circling her, waiting for the right moment to strike. And now Montague knows I care.

That makes her more vulnerable than ever.

I flick the cigarette to the ground, crushing it under my boot. Hardness coils in my chest, tighter with every passing second. I’ve made my choice—whatever it takes, I’m not letting anyone get to her.

But the truth is sinking in, cold and undeniable.

If I don’t tread carefully, I’ll be the one who gets her killed.