Chapter 9 Camilla’s Pov
I flinched when I heard the soft creak of the door opening. My eyes snapped towards the direction in fear and panic.
Then I saw him. Even with the slight darkness in the room, it was easy to point him out. He walked with the deliberate calm of a man who never rushed for anything. It was almost like power came so naturally to him that he didn't even have to try.
My heart slammed against my chest.
What now?!
“You've caused quite a mess, chica.” He said smoothly, still walking towards me.
“Please, just let me go.” I scooted far down the tiny bed to put as much distance between us, my voice came out as a rasp as I decided to discard the last shred of dignity I had and beg. Again.
He didn't even blink. “Let you go?” He chuckled. “You're a witness to not one but three murders, Cami.”
I flinched when he said my name. It almost sounded strange coming from him because he had never called me that since I told him about my ‘half-name’. I was still pretending to be American and I guess I was doing a good job since he hadn't yet found out about it.
I trusted Santiago not to tell on me. I don't know why but I feel like he's my only friend here even though he's just as big of an asshole as the rest of them.
“I didn't mean to.” I said quickly. “I won't utter a word of this to anyone, I promise. I didn't even know who you were back at the club.”
“And yet you ran.”
Who the fuck wouldn't?!
The memory of that moment rushed back. The cold in my chest when our eyes met. The sounds of boots behind me as I tore barefoot down that alley. The sheer terror of knowing that I was prey.
I tried again. “I won't say anything, I swear. I don't want anything to do with any of this. My friends would be really worried now.”
I wanted to say anything. Anything just to get him to have mercy on me.
He crouched down in front of me, his dark eyes level with mine.
“It's not about what you want anymore, chica. You've seen too much. That makes you a part of this, whether you like it or not.”
I stared back at him, my anger and defiance slowly creeping in.
He brushed a strand of hair from my cheek and I jerked back instinctively.
“There's a fire in you.” He whispered, almost like he was talking to himself.
Another chance…
“I'm not a threat.” I whispered back. “Just let me go.”
He was instantly on his feet, almost like my words brought him back to reality.
“There are rules in my world and one of them is this: anyone who sees what they're not supposed to either gets killed or becomes a part of the game. So here's what's going to happen.”
He turned away and walked farther down the room. “You're going to stay here until I decide what to do with you.”
I wanted to sound confident but my voice betrayed me by cracking. “You can't just keep me here like some prisoner.”
He turned his head, smiling faintly over his shoulder. “I can. And I am.”
My rage overshadowed the fear I was feeling. “This is insane! You don't even know me from anywhere and I haven't done anything to you!”
“You saw. That's enough.”
“You're a psychopath!”
He smiled again. “You might be right.”
Then he came closer again, this time, not kneeling, just towering over me.
“But remember this, Cami. The only reason you're still breathing is because you fascinate me. That could change. Very quickly. They're a lot of men out there already furious with you because you're the reason they just lost two of their compadres. Never ever try to pull the stunt you just did today because like I told you before, you're in a world of devils who are not afraid to strike.”
And with that, he stormed out of the room.
I sat there in silence, heart thudding, skin slick with sweat.
He didn't want to kill me. Not yet.
He wanted to own me.
And somehow, I had to survive it.
Àlvaro's Pov.
The girl was quiet.
Too quiet.
It's been two days since she tried to escape again but since then, she has not caused even a tiny bit of trouble.
Not that I wanted her to but that was unlike her.
At first I thought it was fear, that paralyzing, suffocating fear but I'd seen that look before. That look when you know someone has surrendered to terror and as much as I hate to say it, she hadn't.
Her defiance turns me the fuck on and it felt uneasy.
I couldn't get the thought of her out of my head and I wanted more than just my fingers to be buried in her thighs.
I was in my office with a heavy file opened in front of me, evidence of more cleanup from the mess that had gotten her entangled in my world in the first place when the urge to know what she's up to swiftly took over.
I made my way to the south wing where she is and frowned because there was no guard stationed at her door. I was about to open the door when I stopped dead in my tracks at the words that spewed from her mouth.
“.....¡Ese maldito demonio! ¿Por qué no sipplemente me mata?” (That fucking devil! Why doesn't he just kill me?)
I didn't wait for her to say more as I swung the door open.
“¿Hablas español?” I asked in a calm and calculating voice. (You speak Spanish?)
She jolted, shaking her head aggressively, pretending like she didn't understand what I was saying.
“I'm sorry. I don't understand what you're saying.”
The corner of my mouth twitched. “No mientas.” (Don't lie.)
She shook her head again. “I–uh…I really don't understand.”
“Chica.” I took a few steps towards her. “I don't like it when I'm being lied to.”
“I'm not lying.” She said, her chin lifting slightly.
“You've understood everything we've said from the beginning haven't you?”
Her silence confirmed it.
“What's your name? Your real name.”
“Camilla. Camilla Torres.”
I nodded.
I crouched in front of her like I did the other day.
“You're clever, I'll give you that.” I said. “But clever girls in this world, they don't last long.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Then why keep me here? If I'm such a problem, why not just get rid of me?”
I studied her. “Because I don't want to kill you, yet.”
Yet.
“Why not?” She asked, her voice raising slightly. “You've killed for less.”
She's not wrong.
“I've also spared people for less.” I said coolly. “But now, you've made things much more complicated for yourself because you've heard and understood things I didn't want you to understand. You can't be trusted.”
She looked down and my hand gripped her chin, forcing her to look back up.
“Who else knows?” My cold eyes stared into hers.
She shook her head in my arms as her eyes widened in terror. I had that sinking feeling that it wasn't fear for herself.
“So you're from Spain?” I asked as I stood up from my crouched position.
She nodded her head. “I moved here two years ago.”
“¿Por qué?” (Why?)
She seemed lost in thought and looked like she was about to start crying any minute now before she blurted out, “For school.”
There was this renewed urge in me to know every personal thing about her. She intrigued me like no one else has and I intended to satisfy my curiosity about her.
It was obvious she didn't want to talk about her past so I decided to let it go. For now.
Her gaze met mine and I saw it in her eyes. I saw the defiance there. I saw something that wouldn't bow.
And damn it! I admired her for it.
I leaned in slightly, watching her flinch.
“No more pretending, chica. You speak Spanish? Good. Then you'll understand every word when I say this, Si vuelves mentirme, aunque sea una vez más….no habrá segunda oportunidad.” (If you lie to me again, even once more, there'll be no second chance.)
She said nothing.
But I saw the shift in her posture.
Fear.
And I couldn't help the small wicked grin that crept across my face.
She wanted to be clever? I'd show her just how dangerous that could be.