31. Phoenix

Chapter 31

Phoenix

HAYDEN

One Week Later

S he was supposed to be an assignment.

A mark.

A tool to use, to manipulate, to arrest. She was a criminal. She was a job.

Only a job.

Until she wasn't.

Until she became something much more lethal.

She became a human. Not a monster. Not some corrupt member of society.

But a person.

My person.

Funerals are hard.

Harder when it's your person's photo displayed above the empty casket.

"We've got eyes on The Angels," Conrad states into my earpiece. "Coming in from the east." I subtly glance toward the paved walkway, clenching my jaw as I recognize all the faces from the rap sheets. Antonio and Maria Bianco. Enzo Di Rossi. Moe Nucci. And the rest of the old dogs. I swallow as Zoella and Leo come into view. The group approaches the folding lawn chairs, Camilla's father carrying an urn in his hands. "Everyone wait for my command."

She started out as an assignment.

But grew into something I never saw coming.

"Malcolm." I look up at Fitzgerald as he slams a thick case file on my desk. "Today's your lucky day. Cowry wants to see you in his office."

"What's this?" I narrow my eyes, flipping open the document. My gaze skims pages upon pages of recon images, bank statements, and blueprints. I frown, licking my lips as I study the raven-haired woman in a street captured photo. "Who is she?"

"Your new assignment." Fitzgerald grins, nodding down the hall. “Let's walk." I grab the documents, following Fitz to Cowry’s office as he debriefs me. "Organized Crime has been building a case against Angeli Della Morte for a couple of years now. We were closing in on the fuckers but the Capo…” he leans over, pointing out an overweight old man, "White Tony decided to retire early. Intel says he caught wind that we were sniffing around, so he passed the torch to his daughter." He points to the photo of the strikingly frightening, yet somewhat mesmerizing woman. "That's Camilla Bianco. Bit of a firecracker based on what we know."

"You don't say," I hum, scanning the images of her partying at a club. I glance at Fitz as we turn the corner. "What's this got to do with me?"

"The princess here just got clipped for assault," Fitz explains. "Chick threw a lipstick or something at a woman in Nordstrom." I conceal a snort as he continues. "We called our friends down at the DOJ and we're working with them to get her sentenced to mandatory counseling or some shit." He glances at me as we stride into Cowry's office. "That's where you come in."

I quirk up a brow. "In what respect?"

Fitzgerald grins at me, nodding at the PowerPoint displayed on the monitor. "Time to play doctor, Agent Malcolm."

I blink. "You want me in the field?"

"Undercover," he says. "Get her to trust you. If we want The Angels gone, we need to find out everything we can about this girl."

"She doesn't look like the trusting kind."

I was wrong.

I shouldn't have judged a book by its cover.

At least not this book.

This book ended up being a completely different tale than I had originally thought.

Every preconceived notion, every piece of evidence, every stamped and dated document was wrong.

I swallow away a lump in my throat, looking at the blown up photo of Camilla as the priest begins to speak.

"May the Father of mercies, the God of all consolation, be with you," he states, opening the bible on the podium. "We gather here today to celebrate the life of Camilla Bianco, who has now returned to her home with Our God, The Father. Eternal rest grant unto them..."

Tuning out the priest's ramblings, I stare at the image of Camilla, unable to rip my gaze away from her charcoal eyes. They were so dark. Like two pieces of coal.

But I knew the moment I saw her that they'd turn into diamonds.

It's almost 10 a.m. She'll be here soon. I've read her file. I'm prepared. I'm always fucking prepared. Shedding my sweat-soaked gym shirt, I toss it to the corner of my new office and grab a crisp clean button-up. This isn't going to go well. I already know it. Based on the psych profile I ran, I doubt the woman will agree to therapy. She'll fight it. I know she will. That's okay. I have the upper hand. I know her type. I've studied her.

I'm prepared.

The door to my office opens quietly, but the change in the atmosphere is thunderous as if God waved his hand and there was light. I turn around, clasping together the last couple of buttons as I stare at her, and the thick, smoking aura that radiates from her body.

"Apologies," I say, keeping my breath even despite the fact I've never seen anyone quite as exquisite in my whole damn fucking life. "I didn't hear anyone come in."

"I didn't knock," she whispers, lifting her head away from my chest, her lecherous eyes causing my cock to twitch. "Sorry," she smirks. "Well—" she licks her plump red lips, "—not that sorry."

At that moment, I knew I'd be the one that would be sorry. I would be the one begging for forgiveness. And I never beg. I never plead. I never let someone control me.

But those lips. That quick tongue. And those deep, brown eyes that reflect the pain of my own. It was only a matter of time before she had me on my knees .

Begging her for mercy.

I was going to fail.

I couldn't let that happen.

"You're going to have to find another way to get to Bianco," I tell Fitzgerald as I storm into his office. "She's not biting. Maybe we can ? —"

"Make it happen, Malcolm," Fitz states. "Any means necessary." He reaches into his desk, handing me a ticket. "She'll be attending this event on Friday. Be there. Talk to her. Make her see that she needs your help. She's a woman playing a man's game, Malcolm. Use that. Reel her in."

It's not easy to catch a shark.

But she was never a shark.

Sharks don't cry.

Sharks don't feel emotions.

She was human. Always a human.

"Christ sake!" I rush toward Camilla as her doorman hovers behind me. "Go find a first aid kit." My frantic gaze flits across the gashes on her knuckles, the blood streaming from her skin. I look up at her fluttering lids. Fuck! "Camilla?" I loop my arms around her waist as I lift her onto the bed. "Shit." I glance at the bottle on the floor, shaking my head. What a horrible solution. Disgusting. Just like my father. "Stupid girl," I mutter, anger stewing in my veins. I cup her cheek. "Can you hear me?"

"I don't...wa...is."

"Words, Camilla."

"Why…? Why me?"

I narrow my eyes. "If you don't form a coherent sentence, I am taking you to the hospital. Speak. Now."

"I'm fine," she whispers, sniffling. "Go away."

"Here." Norman comes into her room, handing me a first aid kit. "There's some gauze in there that oughta help." Norman looks down at Camilla "Should we call an ambulance?"

"No, no ambulance," she slurs, eyes flickering. "I'm fine...fine."

"Stay still," I command, taking her hand as I disinfect her wounds. “Stay still!"

Camilla winces, whining as her eyes close. "Fuck’s sake."

"We should get her to the hospital," Norman says.

"No," I swallow, perching down on the edge of her bed as I wrap her knuckle in gauze. "I'm a doctor. I'll stay with her." I glance over my shoulder at Norman. "You can leave. Thank you for letting me in."

"This ain't the first time I had to come in," Norman admits awkwardly. "She gets like this...ever since…" he swallows. "Ever since that boyfriend of hers died."

"Boyfriend?" I ask, glancing down at Camilla as her chest rises and falls. "He died?"

"Five years ago," Norman says. "It's when it started."

"Oh," I hum, my stomach churning with something foreign. "I see."

"Take care of her, Doc," Norman says before he leaves.

"I will," I mutter, the weight of the bug growing heavy in my pocket.

As she lays on the bed, eyes closed and innocent, it physically pains me when I attach the bug to the inside of her lamp.

Unable to leave her, unable to even look away from her, I stay until dawn, until I see her stir, until I know she'll be okay.

And then I leave her.

But a part of me stays .

"Camilla was the best daughter a father could ask for," Tony says, addressing the funeral party as he holds her ashes in his hand, his tone shaky, almost trembling. My trigger finger twitches but I take a breath. Fucker . "She lived and died by duty, by loyalty. My daughter always put this family first, she always did what she had to do to ensure that we, La Familia, were number one, on top!" His voice grows louder. "My child, my own flesh and blood, died so that we could live! Camilla was stronger than we all gave her credit for! She was a true queen! A true force to be reckoned with! She was? —"

Just a girl.

She was just a sad, lonely girl with a heart so broken she didn't think it even existed. But I saw her heart.

It was enormous.

So large that when it broke, it shifted the earth beneath her feet.

"I don't have friends, Doc," Camilla says, bending down to grab the stick. She pets Pinto's head before tossing it into the air. "Friends are liabilities."

"Liabilities?" I ask. "Friends are essential, Camilla. It's imperative to have people in your life who love you. It's what makes life worth living."

"No." Her jaw clenches as she glances over at Pinto. "It's what makes life unbearable to live." I swallow, staring off into the distance in silence. "You want to know the real danger?" she asks and I nod tentatively, frowning. "It's love, Doc. It's the most dangerous type of evil."

I've never put much stock in love. I've never seen its healing properties. I've never believed that love was a remedy for pain. It wasn't for me. But as my gaze flicks across her hooded, defeated eyes, all I want to do is touch her. I want to melt away the ice in which she's encapsulated. I want my arms to break the ties, the shackles, the cage in which she's trapped inside.

"Has love betrayed you before, Camilla?" I ask in a low hum, unable to stop the question from pouring from my lips.

"No," she whispers. "Love didn't betray me... I betrayed love."

I want to set her free.

She deserves to fly.

"Maybe it's time to forgive yourself," I say, lifting my hand up and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. I don't want to stop touching her. I don't want to sever the connection. She gasps, closing her eyes as I trail my fingers along her cheek. But I need to stop. "We are only human."

"Sometimes I don't feel human," she breathes. "I feel like a ghost."

I swallow, taking a step back. "I don't think you're a ghost, Miss Bianco."

"What am I then?" she asks. "Tell me."

"I need to get home," I state, pulse quickening.

She's not a ghost.

I can see her.

Every piece of her.

"Camilla was like a sister to me," Zoey whispers, swallowing as she takes the podium. She fidgets, clearing her throat. "She was always, umm... She was always there for me. She always took care of me. She, uh… She loved me with all her heart." Zoey bites her lip. "Despite what people said, Cami… Cami was a really good pe rson." She glances at the priest, nodding as she steps away.

"Alpha Team on standby," Conrad radios into my ear. "T-minus two minutes."

"Ready on your count," Fitzgerald replies through the intercom. "Malcolm?"

"Ready," I state, taking one more look at the photo of Camilla.

She was a good person.

She just needed a chance to show it.

"Come on, Fitz," I beg, chasing him down the hallway. "I can do it. I can turn her. Just give me a few days. Look." I shove stacks of bank statements in his hand, tone laced with urgency. "I traced the wire payments from five years ago. The hit on her boyfriend came from the inside. Just look at it, goddamn it."

Fitzgerald clicks his tongue, handing me his coffee as he flips through the pages. "Hmm..."

"If we can get her to turn state witness," I say in a hopeful tone. "This case will be unbeatable. You'll get your win, Fitz. That's what you want, right?"

We'll get a win.

And she'll get her freedom.

Her life.

"Today, we lay our beautiful daughter to rest," Tony says, Maria joining his side in front of the casket. She holds the urn as he removes the top, grabbing a handful of ashes. "From ashes to ashes, from dust to dust. You'll rise again, in this I'll trust. You're in our hearts, 'til the end. We will meet again, depart..."

It's hard to see someone you love die .

But sometimes...death is necessary.

The Camilla Bianco they're talking about is dead.

"Ten seconds," Conrad mumbles, and I snap my gaze toward the crowded trees, a silhouette wrapped in white chiffon floating toward us in the distance. "Wait for the call."

She needed to die.

My chest rises with longing, with desire, with pride that I get to bear witness to her resurrection, rebirth, revival.

The woman they all knew has died.

And from her own ashes, a new kind of angel has risen.

Like a phoenix.

As she stops a few yards away from the priest, she shines her parents a glorious smile.

A smile that could blind the world.

The sun has risen.

"Hello, Daddy," Camilla says, tilting her head. "Thanks for coming to my funeral." She glances at the floral arrangements. "I would've gone with lilies."

And then there was light.