Chapter 111
Camila POV
After what felt like forever which, honestly, was probably just a couple of stupid, agonizing minutes–Ethan finally walked back inside. The heavy front door creaked open slowly, his footsteps soft but steady as they crossed the threshold.
And then he froze.
I mean, completely froze. Mid–step. One foot still half–raised like he wasn’t sure if it was safe to proceed.
God. What kind of face was I even making to make him look like that?
“Camila?” he said, his voice weirdly careful. Like he was afraid I might explode or something.
I crossed my arms over my chest, heat creeping up my neck even though I tried–tried so damn hard–to look neutral. Cool. Unbothered. Like
I hadn’t just been standing there behind the curtain practically vibrating with emotion like some kind of rejected rom–com character.
But the words slipped out before I could stop them. “Done flirting?”
Ethan blinked. “Flirting?”
The stupid, innocent question made me want to rip the nearest pillow apart with my teeth.
“Who was she?” I asked, because clearly I had no self–preservation left. Might as well dive in headfirst into the pit of humiliation.
He paused. Not long. Just a beat. But enough for me to notice. Then he smirked.
Smirked.
And I felt it.
That sharp sting of shame that curled low in my stomach.
“She’s someone from school,” he said casually, like that explained everything. “Came to see if I was okay since I wasn’t picking her calls. 1 haven’t been hanging out like before.”
I gave a dry laugh, even though nothing about this was remotely funny. “Well, maybe you should go hang out with her now,” I muttered, brushing past him like I didn’t give a shit.
But god, I did. I cared way more than I should.
Because here’s the thing–I wasn’t just jealous. I was annoyed. Confused. Angry. Mostly at myself, but Ethan too. He had this way of pulling me in, making me feel like I was important, like I mattered more than anything else in the world… and then reality would sucker–punch me in
the face.
Like, hello? Remember the trail of corpses? The blood–soaked smile? The possessive behavior that was so far beyond normal it might as well be orbiting another planet? Or have you forgotten about… what was his name again, Matt?!
And yet here I was–acting like he was my goddamn boyfriend.
hands were
I stormed into the kitchen, heart thumping in my ears, and yanked open the fridge just to pretend I had something to shaking slightly, which pissed me off even more. I reached for the carton of orange juice and poured myself a glass with way more force than
necessary.
Ethan lingered by the door, watching me. I didn’t even have to turn around to feel his gaze pressing into my back.
1/3
Chapter 111
Camila… he started, and I held up a hand.
“No. Don’t. Seriously, I don’t want to hear it. I spun to thee him, juice in hand like it was a weapon. “If she’s someone Imprictant to that’s fine. I don’t care.”
His brows knit together. “I didn’t say she was important-”
“Well, you didn’t say she wasn’t.
“Camila,” he said again, more firmly this time.
“Is this place even fucking safe?” I gritted out, slamming the fridge door harder than I meant to. The glass of orange juice in my hand trembled from the force–and of course, because the universe clearly hated me, it slipped right out of my hand and crashed to the tiled floor.
Juice splashed everywhere. Shards of glass skidded across the kitchen like glittering little weapons, just. Perfect.
I stared down at the mess, my chest rising and falling too fast. It felt symbolic. Like my whole life had just shattered into a million sharp pieces, and I was stuck watching the disaster unfold in real time.
“I think it’s best for us to leave this mansion,” I muttered, not fucking floor stay sticky forever. I was done.
bothering to crouch and clean it up. Let Ethan deal with it. Let the
Behind me, I heard his footsteps. Calm. Unbothered. And his voice came next–soft, smooth, irritatingly steady. “Nowhere is safe,” he said. “Doesn’t matter where we go. They could still track your scent.”
I spun to face him, eyes narrowing. “Then what exactly are we going to do?!”
He had that look again–like this was all some sort of game, and he was the only one with the rulebook. The slight curve of his lips, the amuse light in his eyes, the way he stood there with his hands tucked into his pockets like he didn’t have a single concern in the goddamn world.
“Camila,” he called out slowly, tilting his head, “are you… jealous?”
I swear my soul left my body for a moment.
“No!” I yelled, a little too loud, my voice bouncing off the kitchen walls. My ears burned. My chest was already tight, but now there was heat rising up my neck like a goddamn thermometer boiling over.
“Why would you even say that?” I snapped, but my voice had dropped lower.
Ethan took a step forward. Then another.
His hand came up slowly and cradled my cheek. Warm fingers against my flushed skin as his thumb gently brushing along my jawline. “There’s nothing for you to be worried about,” he said, voice low and comforting and completely infuriating.
“I’m not worried,” I whispered, but it sounded hollow even to
my own ears.
His other hand moved next.
I froze.
Because he took my hand–my literal hand–and brought it down, guiding it toward
Oh my god.
Oh my fucking god.
