Chapter 21 Camilla’s Pov
I asked Santiago to meet me in my office soon after I had a doctor inspect her injuries. I had the whole house and perimeter checked straight after the incident along with people to clean the mess downstairs.
It's clear there's been a breach in my security.
I couldn't help but feel proud at the way she handled things despite her bruised face and scratched body.
But deep down, I'm burning with fury. Things could've ended so differently and the thought of coming back to find her in his position made my stomach churn.
This had Sergei written all over it. He's the only one who picks children to do his dirty work. He won't be standing for much longer, that's all I can say.
“What the fuck happened, Santiago? That kid shouldn't have been able to get in this house!”
Santiago's fingers grazed the stubble on his chin, frustration clearly written all over his face. “He probably squeezed into our security. No one must've noticed.”
“Fuck! She could've been the one lying in a pool of blood. That son of a bitch needs to pay!” I yelled.
“Erm.. boss?” Santiago started and I looked up at him. “I don't think he was sent to kill her.”
“Then why the fuck was he attacking her?”
“I believe he was sent to abduct her. You saw how young he was. This is one of Sergei's initiation techniques. But we're going to get him back for this shit.”
“Damn right we are. No one threatens my empire.”
“So what's the plan, boss?”
My lips curled subtly. “You'll see, hermano.”
(Brother).
The next morning, the doctor was back again to make sure Cami was okay. Downstairs in the kitchen had been cleaned and literally spotless.
To think that last night this place was covered with blood and the dead body of a teenager. Sergei is one sick motherfucker and I couldn't wait to tear him and his empire down piece by piece.
Harriet made me a cup of much needed coffee after a night of barely any sleep and I took that to my bedroom where Cami laid, curled in a ball watching some show on the big screen television. The doctor gave her the all clear.
I couldn't begrudge her a little TV, not after what she went through.
I raised my mug to my lips, staring from the doorway all the way over. As the hot liquid slipped down my throat, I carried myself towards her. When she heard my footsteps, her head whipped to the sound, her eyes were wide but when she spotted me, she relaxed a little.
That's when I noticed how bruised her face really was. One eye had turned completely purple and the other one was swollen and bloodshot. Her nose is a little red with a cut on the bridge but other than that, there wasn't any severe damage.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
Those eyes stared into mine for a moment too long. Then she glanced away and pushed herself up on the bed, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on the top of her knees. She looked so small and even more vulnerable that even my cold heart twinged at the sight.
“Will I ever get over it?”
Her voice sounded so quiet and even more broken that I could barely hear her. I tilted my head slowly.
“Get over what exactly?”
I watched her for a while as she opened her mouth, struggling to even get the words out. It was as if they were poisonous and could harm her just by repeating the words.
“Killing someone.” She finally rasps and clenches her teeth.
I walked towards the edge of the bed and sat down but she still didn't open her eyes. She's trapped in her own mind and I hated to think that I was the cause of the carnage going on in there.
Fuck!
I should've just killed her off on the first day like I would normally do. Now she's basically all I could think about.
“Maybe. I don't know.” I said in response to her question. Now, I honestly gave this reply just for her.
I've been around violence all my life and I killed my first body when I was twelve. It didn't even make me flinch. It's a part of my blood. A part of who I am. I've got zero empathy for them.
Cami sniffed, drawing my attention back to her. Her eyes are now opened and she's staring away at the wall lifelessly. “He was just a child.”
“He made his choice.”
“I don't know how you guys just…do it.”
I sighed.
Killing isn't for everyone. Sometimes, I think it shouldn't even be for anybody but this is the life I've known for as long as I can remember and I've had time to grow some thick skin and get desensitized towards murder.
I was five years old the first time I saw a dead body. My father said it would make me stronger to see a dead body. It probably would've been better if his guts weren't splattered across the floor but I had to make my dad proud so I waited until he was out of sight and earshot before I ran to the nearest restroom and threw my insides out.
“It's kill or be killed around here. You have to remember that.”
“But I don't want to know that. I just want to go home.” She started sobbing.
I made a mental image to run a background check on her. If she's from Spain, then it would be very easy to locate her family but I wouldn't be releasing her just yet. It's almost impossible to.
She knew much more than the reason I kidnapped her in the first place and even now, for whatever selfish reason of his, Sergei has made her a target.
“We need to eliminate the threat first.” I replied.
She inhaled deeply and turned her burning teary eyes towards me. “Do you remember the first person you killed?”
Her question took me off guard and I stared at her for a while before I cleared my throat. “The first person I killed was a man who thought he could throw insults at my mother just because my father was dead. He thought I was weak.” I said with a calm voice.
“How did you do it?”
My jaw clenched at the memory. It's not something I like to talk about but if Cami wanted to hear it, then I wanted to share it with her. I was confused as to why I wanted to open up to her but I couldn't physically stop myself.
“I stabbed him in the chest before I slit his throat.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her recoil slightly. “How old were you?”
“Twelve.”
“Twelve?” She said breathlessly. “You lost your father at such a young age?” I watched as her eyes glistened with tears again. “I lost my dad when I was ten to a boating accident.”
I just stared at her. I didn't know what to say or how to handle this type of situation. I've never really been in a situation where I had to comfort someone or be vulnerable with someone.
This is the first time we were both sharing something personal about us.
My eyes slowly fell on her plump lips that is particularly swollen. I quickly glanced away because I didn't trust myself not to start having flashbacks from that one particular training session.
“Were you okay after?”
I should be asking her that.
“I had to be.” I admitted. “I quickly had to take on the reins of my father.”
Her eyes closed at my words and I knew I needed to say something too to comfort her.
“It's going to feel raw now.” I said to get her attention. “But soon, you'll realize that you had to do it to survive. It would make you stronger.” As an afterthought I added. “I'm sorry about your dad.”
Where the hell did that come from? These are words I've never said since I was born. I hope she doesn't perceive me to be weak.
She nodded her head in acknowledgement and bit down on her lips. “I don't know if taking a life would make me stronger or weaker.”
I pulled myself away from the edge of the bed, walked over to the side and stood over her but she's not looking at me. Her eyes are back on the TV.
“Don't let it eat at you.” I said deeply. “Otherwise, you would be stuck in this mindset forever.”
She didn't look at me again so I took the opportunity to walk out of the room, down to the kitchen where I placed my now empty mug on the counter.