21. Villain

Chapter 21

Villain

A person needs to have a heart in order for it to break. I don't have one. Or at least... I didn't think I did. And yet I can hear it breaking. I can feel it shattering.

Right down the fucking middle.

"Cami, he's a f?—"

"No!" I slap my hand over Zoey's mouth.

If she doesn't say it, then it can't be true. It can't. If he's a fed, if he's truly FBI then...

My heart rate spikes, dread infiltrating my senses as I frantically look around my bedroom. He was here. He's been here so many times. He knew where I was... always . He knew. He knew because...

I lower my voice as I let Zoey out of my tight grip, my hands shaking with fear. "Don't say another word."

Zoey scrunches up her forehead, staying silently confused as I rummage through one of my dressers and pull out a bug detector .

"Oh," she hums, eyes widening as I turn on the device. "You think..."

"Shh," I hush, slowly waving the detector around every corner of my apartment as Zoey trails behind me, holding her breath.

Bedroom. Clear.

Bathrooms. Clear.

Kitchen. Clear.

As I scan the couches in the living room, a red light begins to flicker when I hover the detector over a lamp.

Bugged.

God, this can't be happening. How could I be so blind? So stupid? He popped out of thin air. He came to me when I was at my most vulnerable. When I was weak. He weaseled himself into my life. Into my apartment. I place a sweaty palm over my rising chest. Still breaking. Into my fucking heart.

My stupid fucking heart.

I trusted him. I... I let him in. I let him see the mess inside my mind. My fucking soul . I gave him access to my most inner thoughts. And he... He pretended to care. He acted like he gave a shit. Like he... It was all fake. All of it. All the concern. All the advice. Every touch. Every word. A lie. He lied. He lulled me into a false sense of security. Of safety. He... He tricked me.

He... He fucking used me.

Like a goddamn pawn.

My eyes glaze over as pure fucking fury blurs my vision, a tsunami of rage quickly melding back together the pieces of my silly little heart. Shard by fucking shard. Rage stews inside me as I replay each and every shady encounter.

I fell for it. I fell for his ruse. His charade. His game.

I fell for...

No.

Fuck no.

Queen's don't fall.

No.

We fucking ascend.

"Get the car and bring it around the front," I instruct Zoey as I grab a pistol from a hidden compartment in my armchair. "You're driving."

"What?" Zoey blinks at me as I spin on a silencer. She looks around the living room, clearing her throat. "What are you doing, Cami?"

"I'm going to dinner, Zoe." I give her a small smile. Trepidation spreads across Zoey's face as I add, "I always keep plans."

Hayden Malcolm.

May the angels protect you.

"Wait for me in the alley," I state, checking my reflection in the sun visor as I reapply a darling shade of ‘Don't You Ever Fuck With Me’ red lipstick. Red is fitting. It's the last thing the doctor will see. "Keep the engine running."

"Cami..." Zoey glances at me, her hands gripping the steering wheel. "What are you going to do?"

"Don't worry about it," I say, slipping the gun into the pocket of my black trench coat. "Focus on your task at hand."

"Don't do this," she pleads. "Don't go in there, Cami." She looks briefly at the outline of the pistol. " Please . Let's tell The Council. Let's tell my dad. He'll know what to do... He'll?—"

"They don't know?" I ask, narrowing my eyes. She shakes her head. "Good. Keep it that way, understand? Tell no one."

"But—"

"Five minutes," I say, ignoring her whimpering as I hop out of the SUV.

Inhaling a sharp breath of cold New York air, I head into Blue Lagoon. Hayden might be trained in the art of deception. But me? I was born with it. It's in my blood. It runs through my veins. Conceal. Hide. Pretend. A mantra for the Biancos. I've done it my whole life. Put on a show.

Time for a performance of a lifetime.

"This way." The ma?tre d’ guides me through the sparsely spread tables toward the back.

Convenient. Near the back exit. Excellent. I'm ready for this.

I'm—

A twinge in my chest sends a shock down my spine when I catch his green eyes. For a fraction of a second, I can hear the pieces of my heart rattle, on the precipice of breaking again. No. Stop. No. I force a smile as I scan his face, unable to look away from those eyes. They were clean before. Almost pure. But now...now they're tainted. Soaked in the idiocy of my naivety.

I'm ready .

"You look…" Hayden stands up, giving me a slow once over. His gaze softens into something docile, something weak, something I didn't expect. "You look beautiful." He takes a step toward me, attempting to pull me into an embrace but I place a hand on his chest and give him a smirk. He raises a playful brow. "What? No touching?"

"Patience, Doctor," I coo, pulling out my chair as I sit opposite him. My hand slips into my pocket, and I gently pull out the pistol, placing it on my lap as I lean forward. "This place is nice. You did well. I was half expecting a dive bar again."

"You think so little of me, Camilla." Hayden expels a soft laugh, his lying eyes glimmering with amusement. My name never felt so dirty. "I wanted to do this properly. Somewhere you'd feel..." He nods at the server who pours us each a glass of red wine. Turning back to face me, he continues, "Somewhere you'd feel comfortable."

"Do what?" With my left hand, I bring the glass of wine to my lips and take a slow sip, maintaining direct eye contact with the doc. Placing the glass back down, I lick my lips. He watches. He always watches. He's paid to be observant. It's his job. "Hmm?"

"I—" He clears his throat, casting me a darkened look before staying quiet in pensive thought. I tilt my head, impatiently waiting for more lies to spill out his pretty little mouth. "I wanted to talk to you about something. I wanted to tell you that I?—"

"What is it, Doctor Malcolm?" I whisper, my expression hardening as I coil my fingers around the gun, my thumb hovering over the hammer. Hayden casts me a puzzled look as he feels my demeanor morph into something dark, something no longer flirtatious. "Or should I say..." The ambient melody playing from the recessed speakers of Blue Lagoon doesn't cover up the sound of the pistol cocking. His eyes widen as I spit out, " Agent Malcolm." He opens his mouth. I shush him. No more lies. "Listen to me carefully, Agent. I have a .22 pointed directly at your dick right now. If I were you, I'd keep that mouth shut, understand?"

Hayden's jaw locks, features muddled with conflict, and perhaps even a smidgen of fear. I've never seen fear look so small before. No matter. He should be scared. His last breath is imminent.

"Are you wearing a wire?" I ask in a whisper. He shakes his head slightly. I manage a smile. "Really? A shame, huh? Didn't think I'd catch on?"

"Camilla, I?—"

"I said no talking," I grunt, my fingers tingling as I force myself to not be affected by the sound of his hoarse voice. "This is what's going to happen." I nod at the back exit. "You're going to stand up, nice and slow, and head toward those doors. I'm going to follow you. If you try to run, I will shoot you without a second thought. Is that clear?" Hayden swallows, looking around the restaurant. I let out an airy snort as I make eyes with the maitre d’ who turns around immediately. "They're on my payroll, Agent. You should've known that when you picked this place." I stand up, hiding the gun with my purse. "Shall we?"

"Where are you taking me?" Hayden asks, standing up as he walks toward the exit .

"What part of no talking don't you understand?" I ask, following behind him. Hayden swings open the back door, a draft blowing through our hair. I notice the SUV parked a few yards to the right. I nod in the direction. "To the car."

Hayden spins around, the dim flickering alley lights illuminating his face as he finds my pained eyes. "I can tell that this is hurting you," he whispers. "I can?—"

"Walk," I demand, gritting my teeth as I extend my arm, threatening him with death. "Now." Hayden sighs, shoulders slumped in...defeat? Wounded pride, more likely. I ignore the gnawing feeling in my stomach as we reach the car, pushing away the budding hurt he so easily identified. "Get in."

Silently, Hayden slides into the vehicle, frowning at Zoella, who's white as a ghost.

"Where are we going?" she asks timidly, starting the car as I slam my door shut. She flashes Hayden an almost apologetic glance, the emotion vanishing as she meets my cold stare. "Well?"

"The marina," I state, shifting my weight so that I'm facing Hayden. He cocks his head as I add, "Too bad there aren't any sharks in the Hudson River. Would've been a rather poetic way to die, wouldn't it, Doc?"

"Is that your plan, Camilla?" Hayden asks as Zoey pulls out onto the main road. He scratches his dark stubble. "You're going to kill me?"

"What choice do I have?" I ask with a flippant shrug. "You've become a mess. It's my responsibility to clean you up."

"Killing me won't stop the investigation," Hayden notes. My heart clenches. He is a fed. It's all been a lie. "If anything, it'll expedite the entire thing."

"You have nothing on us," I state. "If you did, I'd already be in handcuffs."

"If we have nothing, then why kill me, Camilla?" Hayden asks, raising a subtle brow. "What purpose does that serve?" He licks his lips. "Perhaps...perhaps it's about pride? About..."

"No more talking," I spit, glancing at Zoey. "Drive faster."

Zoella speeds up, and the murky, congested air in the car thickens as we approach the marina.

How much does he know? How much did I really tell him? Nothing concrete, right? Nothing of real value. I spilled no secrets. The Angels should be safe. Well, as far as I'm concerned. But if The Council ever found out that I've been infiltrated, that I let in a fucking pig, they'd vote me out. That is definite grounds for an ousting.

"Get out slowly," I instruct Hayden as we pull up to the marina. "Go."

"Camilla."

"I said go," I state, nudging him with the gun as I follow him out of the car. I look at a frightened Zoella. "Circle the block and wait for me, understand?"

"But—"

I slam the car door before she has time to talk me out of doing something my brain and heart are battling against.

"I understand that you're angry, Camilla," Hayden begins as we walk down the swaying dock, his back turned to me. "This is not how I wanted this evening to go."

"What? Didn't have death on the menu, Doc?" I ask, the scent of fish and sea life filling my lungs. "Turn right." Hayden turns down the boardwalk. "Keep walking."

"Your organization doesn't have much time left, Camilla," he says. "Maybe a month or two before dozens of agents begin seizing everything you own."

"I don't believe you," I say as we reach the end of the dock and stop in front of a black speedboat. Hayden turns around, studying the gun in my hand. I grip it tighter, my chest rising as I add, "You're a liar. It's all lies."

"It's the truth, Camilla," he whispers, a saddened gaze flitting across my face. "I'm telling the truth. You killing me... It won't do anything. It won't help you or The Angels." He takes a hesitant step forward. "Put down the gun—" he looks into my fucking soul as he adds, "—this isn't you."

"You would know, wouldn't you, Doc?" I say in a trembling whisper as I take a step forward, the tip of the gun nearly pressed against his chest. "Are you even a doctor? Or was that also a lie?"

"I am a psychologist," he says, swallowing. "At the Bureau." He takes a small breath, his green eyes brimming with regret. "But you?" He pauses. "You were not at all what I thought you'd be."

"Really," I hum, fighting back tears. "And what am I, Hayden? You said I'm not a shark before.” I fix my grip on the gun. "It would seem as though you were wrong. "

"You're on the wrong side of this, Camilla," he says, unfazed by the loaded pistol in my hand. "You know you are." He shakes his head. "You can't fight your morals forever. In your heart...you know you don't belong in this world." He swallows again. " I know you don't belong in this world." He extends his hand, reaching out to me and begging me to lean in. "Join us, Camilla. Do the right thing."

"You don't know me at all," I whisper, keeping my tone level. His words mirror Daniel's, and it damn near kills me. "Whatever pretty picture you have painted of me in your head, that isn't me. I'm not a saint, I'm not a traitor, and I sure as hell am not going to help you destroy my fucking family and everything we've built!"

"Your family?"

"Listen." I grit my teeth, anger spiking and choking down the pain. "In this story, Hayden, I'm the fucking villain. I know that. I know who I am. At least I'm honest." I inhale a sharp breath. "You? You pretend to be the hero. The good guy. But you're not! You're just a fucking liar masquerading behind the guise of law enforcement."

"I may have lied to you about who I am," he whispers in a low, weak voice. "But nothing else was a lie. It was all?—"

"You bugged my fucking house!" I cry out. "You used me! You pretended to care! You?—"

"That was before I knew…" He swallows. "That was before I knew you ."

"And what a mistake that was, huh?" I muse, eyes glossing over. "Getting to know me." I extend my arm, taking a step back as I point the gun at Hayden's chest. "Get in the boat."

Hayden's jaw locks. "Is this really the life you want, Camilla? I don't think it is. I think you want something with light and freedom and love?—"

"Love?" I let out a maniacal laugh, shaking my head. "Didn't you hear me, Doc? I'm a villain." A tear rolls down my face. "Villains don't get to fall in love."

"Neither do heroes," he whispers. He sucks in a labored breath as he takes a step away from the boat. "I didn't want to do this. I thought you'd make up your own mind but...but you've left me no choice."

I glower at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Your family," he begins in a gentle tone. "The ones you are so desperately trying to protect... They're the real villains here."

My pulse races. "What are you talking about?"

"It wasn't El Castro that murdered Daniel, Camilla," Hayden says. "It was your father."