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I shrug. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
He growls and lunges for me, but I’m ready for him and duck out of his way before he can reach me. Kaos and I trained to fight together, but that doesn’t mean our styles are similar, because they’re not even close. He’s methodical but scrappy, a mix of me and Bishop in how he grapples, whereas I’ll always go straight for the kill. I don’t give a fuck who I’m fighting, I just want to see them bleed.
He advances on me again, and when I move to step out of his path, he anticipates the move and takes me to the mat. Initially, we only had this matting in the grappling area but had to have it installed throughout the entire gym after the second time I cracked my head on the concrete while training with Kaos. Rogers pretty much demanded it and said if one of us came in needing stitches again that he wouldn’t treat us. Asshole.
I make quick work of rolling us and give myself the advantage. He may be bigger than me, but I’ve spent a lot more time in this gym than he has, and my sheer strength is evidence of that.
“Is this making you feel better?” I goad, never allowing the sinister smile to drop from my lips.
He growls and catches me off guard with a left hook to the cheek. Pain vibrates through my entire face, but I crave it. I need more. The punch has me distracted enough that he throws me off him, and a moment later he’s got me pinned to the mat. “You think you’re so fucking smart.” Punch. “But you’re a fucking idiot. You’re going to get us all killed with your stupidity. What the hell do you think is going to happen when Davenport finds out we’ve had her this whole time? Do you think he and the other families are going to let us get away with that?”
I lift my legs and manage to buck him off, putting some distance between us so I can wipe the blood from my lip. The taste of copper moves across my taste buds, and I almost groan with relief. The things I crave would have a therapist in need of therapy. Blood being one of the many things that any normal person would screw their nose up at and get as far away from my psycho ass as possible.
“Well?” Kaos demands.
“Did you hear a word Crew said?” I challenge. “The second De Marco took his dying breath, that contract was void. Camilla was free in the eyes of the law we follow.”
“Davenport won’t see it like that, and you know it. And when they find out we’re grooming an inside leader?” he scoffs. “Hell, they’ll probably take her out, and I won’t ever have to see her or deal with you lovesick puppies again.”
Something about the idea of them hurting Camilla makes me pause. The only person who can hurt my little lamb is me.
CHAPTER THIRTY
CAMILLA
My first taste of freedom is a walk up and down a hallway and around a living area. And what’s sad? I’m excited about it.
My eyes dart around every room we pass, taking in every detail I can think to catalog, but I’m overwhelmed. After being locked in the same room for a week, everything feels so much bigger.
Bishop stands at my side, pretending he’s not watching every step I take to make sure I’m not going to fall. I don’t know how to tell him that if I was going to fall, I would have done it already. The first few steps were shaky, but now that we have a bit of a rhythm going, my body is feeling better than it has in days.
The bruises are finally fading, but that doesn’t mean I don’t spend every morning before my shower staring at the mess those assholes made of my body. My ribs are still black and blue, and each day I have to wear this stupid cast, the more annoyed I get. If I have to watch Bishop wrap a garbage bag around my arm one more time so I can shower, I’m probably going to lose it.
“You doing okay, love?” Bishop’s voice filters through my own thoughts, and I glance up to meet his intense gaze. “We can go back to your room if you’d like?”
I shake my head and keep walking. This is our third lap, and I am beginning to get tired. Breathing hurts when you have a bunch of broken ribs, and while I don’t want to admit it, I probably will need to take a break soon. I’m just not sure how long it will be before they let me out of my glorified prison cell.
“Cami, don’t push yourself if you’re not ready.” He reaches out and takes my elbow in a gentle grasp to stop me in my tracks.
I stare down at his hand on my skin, the warmth flowing over me at our closeness. As a rule, Bishop doesn’t touch me. Kovu, absolutely. He uses just about any excuse to have his hands on me, and I’m not ready to consider what that means. But Bishop will only touch me if necessary, and no matter which way you look at it, this isn’t.
“I’m fine,” I tell him as I try to pull out of his grasp, only to find myself pulled back against his body. Well, that didn’t go as planned.
His hard body is stifling as he holds me close, and I’m too dumbstruck to pull away. I have next to no experience with members of the opposite sex. I never had the time to date between school and learning the business, and all the boys my age weren’t enticing. Their immaturity always ground on my nerves, even when all my friends were falling head over heels for whatever dumb jock was most popular that week.
But this isn’t a teenage boy. No, that’s definitely not the word I would use to describe Bishop or any of the members of the Legion. Each one of them is more devastatingly handsome than the last, and every single one of them should scare the shit out of me. But they don’t. Even Kaos and his gruff demeanor doesn’t worry me. If anything, I get a bit of a kick out of riling him up.
Perhaps my boredom is warping my sense of self preservation.
“You don’t need to lie to me, love. If you’re tired, we can go back and sit for a while and then come out for another walk.” he offers. “Rogers mentioned you should be going for at least three of these walks per day.”
I worry my lip between my teeth, trying to decide what to do. I don’t think I can go back into that bedroom just yet. I’m not ready to be stuck in those same four walls again. It’s making me stir crazy, but the pain is beginning to get the best of me.
Bishop’s gaze is locked on my lips, his pupils dilating as he watches me nibble at my bottom lip, and my breath stutters in my lungs.
Like I said, no experience with men.
“Could we maybe sit in the living room?” I ask quietly. “I mean, if you need to go and do some work, I understand?—”
