Chapter 106
Camila POV
“Camila?”
The voice was too soft for the way it sliced through the chaos in my head. Too gentle for the blood–soaked room.
I turned sharply, breath frozen somewhere between my lungs and throat. My knees threatened to give out under me, but i didn’t move couldn’t move. The voice was familiar, but hearing it here, now, made it feel wrong. Twisted.
And then I saw him.
Ethan.
Standing a few feet away, surrounded by the carnage, like some grotesque painting come to life. Blood painted his shirt, his neck, even smeared across his cheek like war paint. His hands–God, his hands were dripping.
But what made my stomach twist wasn’t the blood. Wasn’t the violence.
It was the smile.
That damn soft, almost innocent smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth like he hadn’t just stepped out of a horror scene. Like he hadn’t just painted the living room red.
this.”
“Sorry about that,” he said, his voice barely above a murmur, calm like they were just chatting over coffee. “I really didn’t want you to see
And before I could move, before I could even think, he crouched in front of me, closing the space between us. I flinched, but my body didn’t obey fast enough. His fingers touched my face, cradling my cheeks like I was made of glass. And just like that, blood smeared across my skin, warm and sticky.
It took everything in me not to recoil.
“You can go back to sleep now,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “It’s all taken care of.”
I stared at him, eyes wide, throat dry. My heart was trying to rip itself out of my chest.
And then I let out a soft laugh.
Not a real one. Not even close. It was dry. Croaky. It crawled out of her mouth like it was trying to escape her body, not entertain it.
“What the fuck is going on?” I breathed out, my voice trembling. My hands shaking. Hell, everything was shaking. “What is this?”
Ethan tilted his head, like a curious dog trying to understand why its owner was upset. His eyes flicked to the bodies–the ones that had been people just an hour ago. Mangled limbs. Heads twisted the wrong way. Chests torn open like paper. The blood had started to congeal, thick and dark, soaking into the expensive rug.
“They’re from the agency,” he said casually, like he was talking about Girl Scouts or Jehovah’s Witnesses. “They came here to kill you.
His voice changed on the word kill. Hardened.
And then it changed again.
He turned back to me, eyes crinkling as that twisted smile returned.
Chapter 106
“So I killed them,” he beamed, like a kid proudly showing off his crayon drawing. “I did good, didn’t 17
I didn’t move.
Couldn’t.
I was stuck between wanting to bolt and the horrifying awareness that if I did, he could probably catch me in less than a breath. He was fast. Strong. Unhinged.
So instead, I swallowed the bile crawling up my throat and forced a smile. A fake one. Tight. Strained. My voice came out smaller than I intended.
“Yeah,” I nodded slowly. “I think I’m just gonna… go back to my room.”
His smile widened–like he was proud of me. He brushed a blood–soaked lock of hair behind my ear and stood.
And just like that, he walked away. Calm. Casual. Hands still dripping, like he hadn’t just turned our house into a slaughterhouse.
I didn’t move until he was gone.
And then I moved fast.
My legs nearly gave out beneath me, but I forced them to work. I stumbled upstairs like a zombie, gripping the railing so hard my fingers ached. My other hand was still sticky. Blood. I wiped it on my hoodie, gagging
Everything felt wrong. Too quiet. Too bright. The lights were still on, but they did nothing to make the room feel less horrifying.
When I finally got to my room, I shut the door and locked it.
Then I slid down against it and curled in on myself, heart pounding so hard I thought it might actually break my ribs.
He’d killed people.
Not just killed–butchered.
I pressed my palms to my face, rubbing hard like I could erase the feel of his hands on me. But I couldn’t. I could still feel the blood. Still
smell it.
I staggered to the bathroom and threw up, barely making it to the toilet in time. My whole body shook with each heave, and when I was done, I stayed there–curled on the cold tile, arms wrapped around myself like that could hold me together.
I didn’t know whether to cry or scream.
I didn’t even know what I felt. Shock? Fear? Disgust?
All of it. None of it.
It was like my brain couldn’t process what I’d just seen.
What he had done.
And the worst part?
Some sick, twisted part of me wasn’t even surprised.
I dragged myself to my bed and collapsed onto it, not even bothering to change out of the blood–mudged hoodie. My pillow smdied
Chapter 106
the expensive lavender detergent the mansion used. It should’ve been comforting.
It wasn’t.
I stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours.
I didn’t cry but just lay there, numb, every muscle in my body still wired with fear.
I should run.
But where would I even go?
And would he let me?
The worst part–the part I couldn’t admit, even to myself–was that a small voice in the back of my head whispered something else.
He did it for me.
He did it because I mattered to him.
Because I was his mate.
That voice? It was disgusting. And terrifying.
Because a part of me, a very small, very damaged part, felt something like… safety.
I shivered and pulled the blanket over my head, like I could hide from all of it.
Chapter Comments
LIKE
POST COMMENT NOW
