Page 5

Camille

I am still reeling from the whole mess with that man. Who the hell does he think he is? Who is he to tell me that I am digging too deep? My brother is dead and I need to find out the cause of his death.

I sit on my bed with my brother’s notebooks out before me. The scribbles and names mean something but piecing it all together is a task that I seem to be failing at. I have tried to make sense of the words. The only conclusion that I have come up with is that my brother was in something far deeper than I realize. He was dealing with dangerous people and my guess is that he found something that he wasn’t supposed to.

I twirl the locket between my fingers and stare at my laptop screen off to the side. Montague. His face fills the screen and I stare into the reptilian eyes. The man makes my skin crawl. He is known as a petty drug dealer and has been in and out of jail for years before he "turned his life around" and opened a few clubs. One of these clubs happens to be one of the names in my brother’s notebooks.

Vortex.

I am tempted to go and visit it but the words of the man of the funeral ring in my head loudly. Who is he? Unlike the creepy Montague, I didn't see him as a threat. He intrigued me. There is something about him that pulls me in, the way a cobra hypnotizes its prey before it strikes.

Those eyes of his. They are this siren call—what the fuck am I doing? The last thing I need to be doing right now is allowing this man to infiltrate my thoughts the way he is. My focus is on my brother and getting him justice.

I scroll my laptop, trying to see if there is more on this Montague guy. He just seems like any other petty criminal. He may be within this world my brother got mixed up in but he is by no means in this game. If anything, he seems more like an outsider.

After hours of scrolling and looking for clues, I flop back onto my bed and let out a low groan. This would all go a lot faster if my brother had told me exactly what he was doing. I hate that even from the great beyond, he still babied me. I am woman enough to handle whatever he has to throw my way. I don’t care how dark it is.

I close my eyes, thinking of various scenarios of what could have possibly led my brother down this path. We had an okay life growing up. Both our parents are dead, but they gave us a good life. We were loved and we were…

I snap my eyes open, the tears already trickling from my eyes. In the last few weeks, I cried enough tears to fill the red sea. Searching for answers seems to be the only thing that keeps the sadness at bay. I have to fight everything within me not to reach for a damn drink. Everything in the world just seems grey and I don’t know how to add the color back.

“Dammit Etie.” My body is filled with despair. “Why did you have to go at this alone?”

That is the difficult thing about death. There are all these feelings that are left behind and all these things that you want to say to this person. But no matter what questions you utter, your only answer is silence. That is what I hate. The fact that I can’t get to hear why he did the things that he did.

“No, no more tears.” I sit up on the bed. I wipe away whatever remaining tears there are and steel my back. I close the notebooks and shut my laptop off.

Normally, I would have reached for my vibrator or something but this time I want to fill my mind with more. I need to completely dial out of reality.

“Trashy reality TV it is.”

I kick my legs off to the side of my bed and make my way out of my room. Everyone knows that trashy reality TV can heal even the most broken of souls. Maybe a little "90 Day Fiance" to make me feel better about my lack of love life or getting laid. Or maybe some "Survivor" to make myself feel better about access to my ramen and beans. The possibilities are endless here.

I walk out of my room and make my way to the kitchen. For tonight, I will rest my mind and sit in front of the TV and allow trashy shows to drown out the depression in my soul. That is the plan.

I turn to my fridge but then I spot a small white envelope on the floor. I walk toward it cautiously and as I draw closer, I see the messy handwriting on the front of it, and I pause.

étienne.

I rush over and hold the small thing tentatively in my grasp. I stare at the words on the front: To Cams, from Etie. My heart thunders in my chest. I feel as though I am seconds away from collapsing.

I breathe deeply, trying to calm the raging bull in my chest. And then, I breathe out and allow the strength to take the place of my lost breath.

“Okay.” I open the letter, and my eyes find the first word.

Dear Cams,

If you got this, it means that you have met Diego. He is a friend. If he gave you this, it means that you are in more danger than you realize. I know a lot of things don’t make sense right now but they will, just give it a little time. I need you to trust me.

I am on to something big, really big. It's too dangerous for me to tell you now but when this all ends, it will make sense. Just remember that I love you and I really hope you liked your birthday present.

PS. I am so sorry for being such a shitty brother. You deserved better. I was supposed to ride by your side but all I have been doing is pushing you away. Just know that I have good reasons for everything.

All my love,

Etie

I hold the letter to my chest, my throat tight. The tears come without warning, overwhelming me with their weight. I don’t know how long I stand there, crying in silence, but eventually, I pull myself together. This letter is a sign—a sign that I need to see this through.

I wipe my eyes and make a decision. I’m going to visit étienne’s grave.

I can’t stop now. I need to know the full truth, even if it’s the last thing I do.

My phone ringing breaks through the thick silence of emotion that the letter has left me with. I wipe the stray tears that have fallen from my eyes. I hesitate before just letting it ring. It’s Louise, and I don't want to deal with her concern right now.

I make my way out the door. The cold chill greets me and stays with me until I get to my destination.

The cemetery is eerily quiet as I make my way through the winding paths. The sun is setting, casting long, shadowy streaks across the gravestones. It’s the kind of quiet that settles deep in your bones, the kind of stillness that makes you feel as though the world is holding its breath.

I reach étienne’s grave, my brother’s resting place, and kneel before the headstone. His name is etched in the stone, so simple, so final. The stone feels cold beneath my fingers as I trace the letters, my mind swirling with all the questions I never got to ask him.

“I knew you didn’t kill yourself.” I choke out. The emotion that I have been pressing down now threatens to bubble over.

He was trying to protect me. I know that now. I should have listened sooner.

I don’t realize I’m being watched until I feel it—a chill running down my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I freeze, every muscle in my body tensing. My heart races as I scan the cemetery, but there’s no one in sight. Still, the feeling doesn’t fade. The presence is too strong, too palpable.

Then I see someone.

It’s him. The man from the club. I blink, trying to make sure that I am seeing right.

I stand quickly, my breath shallow. There, on the far side of the graveyard, standing half-hidden behind a mausoleum, I spot him. His silhouette is unmistakable, tall and commanding, like a shadow waiting for something. His eyes are fixed on me, unblinking, even from a distance. I can feel the weight of his glare and it sends a jolt of unease through me.

“You’re following me,” I call out to him and he remains still as stone, my words not breaking his resolve. “It’s kind of creepy if you ask me.”

I wait for a moment. Neither one of us is moving. There is something about this man that calls to me. As strange as it sounds, I feel like we are connected in a way.

Wow, I must be losing my mind for sure. Of all the things that I could possibly think, I choose that?

“This would be a whole lot easier if you just told me what you know.” I take a step forward, but then I hear the sound of a twig breaking and my neck snaps to my left. My eyes move over the cemetery. Gravestones don’t move, so someone is here with us.

I move my eyes back to the man, but he no longer stands there. I hear the crunch of the autumn leaves this time, and when I look around, I catch two large men walking directly toward me. They're dressed in all black with black gloves on their hands.

Their eyes narrow as they see me, and their faces twist into something hard. I recognize them from somewhere. Maybe they were among the people étienne had mentioned. Maybe they were his enemies.

I try to back away from them. My steps are slow like I am dealing with wild animals.

“Miss Dupont,” one of them says, his voice low and menacing. “I think it’s best that you come with us. We only want to talk with you.”

“Nah, I'm good.”

I take off sprinting like my ass is on fire. But I don't get that far because within seconds my body is pulled back and my hands are placed behind my back.

“Let me go!” I scream so loud that my voice carries through the whole cemetery. The man who is holding my arms back tries to place something into my mouth to keep me from making noise, but I keep thrashing.

My heart races in my chest, the panic and dread seeping deep into my skin. I am going to die…I am going to die…

That is the only thing that swirls in my head.

“Let her go.”

I freeze, the world going still as I turn toward the sound.

“Diego,” the name leaves my lips.

This has to be the man that my brother was talking about. It’s been him lurking in the shadows, watching over me. It all makes sense now. The funeral, the club and now here.

“It’s you.”

He steps forward from the shadows, his posture commanding, his eyes cold and unrelenting. There’s no hesitation in him as he strides toward us, his gun drawn. I stand there, stunned, as Diego approaches me, his face unreadable, but his eyes—those eyes—are full of something deeper. Something I can’t quite place.

“You have two seconds to let her go before I put a bullet in both of your heads.” He stares at the two men with a venom so bitter I can taste it. “And do make the right decision. Blood is so hard to get out of my clothes these days.”