Chapter Two

Camilla Hernandez clutched the shard of glass tightly in her hand, her fingers trembling. Blood trickled down her palm, staining her skin crimson, but she paid it no mind. How long had she been debating, resting the sharp edge against her skin? Hours, maybe. Time seemed to pass differently in her prison, each second stretching out to eternity.

She had long ago given up hope that her brother would send his men to bust her out of this place, hope that someone—anyone—would come to her rescue. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into a month, she had come to accept the harsh reality of her situation.

No one knew she was here. No one would care. In the grand scheme of her brother's empire, she was nothing more than a pawn, easily sacrificed for the greater good.

A shiver ran down Camilla's spine, the cold seeping into her bones as she huddled in the dimly lit cell. With a resigned sigh, she dropped her makeshift weapon to the ground, the shard of glass clattering against the cold concrete floor. For a moment, she stared at it, her mind racing with dark thoughts.

She could use it on Rigs, the man who held all the keys to this prison, the man who had sneered at her with contempt as he spoke of his MC's grand plans for her.

" You ' ll end up making us rich," Rigs had said with a chuckle. " Do you know how many buyers would pay to break Fernando Hernandez ' s little sister?"

She could take him down with her, ensure he paid for the suffering he had inflicted upon her and the other women. But even as the thought crossed her mind, Camilla hesitated. What if her plan ended up backfiring? Rigs was bigger, meaner, and could certainly overpower her in a matter of seconds. He'd just toss her makeshift weapon aside and laugh in her face.

The sound of sobbing reached her ears. Camilla's heart clenched in fear as she recognized the telltale signs. Rigs would surely pay a visit to the source of the disturbance.

If Rigs was in a foul mood, he wouldn't hesitate to silence her permanently. With a trembling hand, Camilla tried to block out the noise, to focus on anything but the impending threat.

As she strained to ignore the cries of anguish, strange new sounds began to reach her ears— the muffled thump of something heavy hitting the floor, the murmur of voices in hushed tones.

Curiosity gnawed at her, pulling her toward the cell door despite the fear that gripped her heart. Pressing her ear against the rough wood, she strained to make out the source of the commotion. She wasn't kept in the normal cells like the others, but in a special room—a fact that had always filled her with a sense of unease.

As she listened intently, her instincts screamed that something was amiss. The voices she heard didn't belong to Rigs or any of his lackeys. No, these were unfamiliar. Intruders? Enemies of the Reapers?

A surge of adrenaline coursed through Camilla's veins as she realized something had changed. If these intruders were discovered, they would surely face a fate worse than death at the hands of Rigs and his men.

And yet, a small part of her couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, these outsiders could be her salvation. If they had gotten rid of Rigs, maybe they had also taken care of the other Reapers.

Of course these men could be as bad as Rigs and his MC. The thought turned her stomach.

The jingle of keys reached Camilla's ears and her instincts kicked into overdrive, prompting her to back away from the door with a sense of primal fear.

Her heart pounded in her chest as the hinges creaked open, her dimly lit room was flooded with blinding light. She winced as a flashlight beam pierced through the darkness, casting stark shadows against the cold stone walls.

When was the last time she had seen the sun, felt its warmth on her skin?

The thought lingered in the back of her mind as she squinted against the harsh glare, her eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden brightness.

Finally, as her vision cleared, a whimper clawed its way up her throat as she caught sight of the figure standing in the doorway—a tall, muscular man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, clad in a leather jacket.

Another biker, she realized with a sinking feeling. For a moment, their eyes met, and Camilla found herself unable to tear her gaze from his. There was something about those dark-blue eyes, something that softened the hard lines of his face and made her pulse quicken with an unfamiliar sensation. Was it possible that this man, too, was a threat to her safety, or could he be something else entirely?

Seconds stretched into eternity as Camilla stood frozen, her mind racing with doubts and fears. Then, to her surprise, the biker tucked the flashlight away and extended a big, callused hand toward her.

"It's okay, you're safe now," he said.

She stared at his hand numbly, uncertainty clouding her thoughts. Was this some sort of trick, a cruel deception designed to lure her into a false sense of security? Growing up in the Hernandez family, Camilla had learned not to trust easily.

"Consider everyone enemies until they've proven themselves to be your allies," her brother often liked to say.

"No one's ever going to hurt you again," the biker insisted, his voice steady and reassuring.

Camilla couldn't bring herself to believe his words. Promises were just empty words, easily broken and forgotten. Still, something in his demeanor gave her pause. He seemed genuine, his intentions clear as he waited patiently for her response.

Slowly, hesitantly, she reached out and grasped his hand, her fingers trembling slightly with uncertainty. With a gentle tug, the biker helped her to her feet, his touch surprisingly tender.

"My friends call me Shadow. What's your name?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle.

Camilla's shoulders shook with emotion, her breath catching in her throat as she struggled to find her voice.

Shadow waited patiently, his gaze unwavering as he offered her a comforting presence amidst her turmoil.

Unable to hold back any longer, Camilla felt the walls she had built around her heart begin to crumble. With a choked sob, she allowed herself to break apart, her tears flowing freely as she buried her face in the chest of this stranger.

It felt surreal, this moment of vulnerability shared with someone she barely knew. Was this a dream, a figment of her imagination born from the depths of her despair?

Or perhaps she had died in her cell, and this was the afterlife she had always feared. Shadow reached out to stroke her hair with gentle reassurance, and she knew with certainty this was indeed reality. In that moment, she found solace in the simple act of human kindness.

After awhile, Camilla silently berated herself for falling apart, forcing herself to take deep breaths to regain control of her emotions. She couldn't afford to break down now, not when there was still so much at stake. Shadow didn't know who she was yet and that was a blessing in disguise.

Summoning every ounce of strength she possessed, she finally found her voice.

"My name is Camilla," she said, hating the slight tremble in her voce.

"Camilla, okay. It's nice to meet you," Shadow replied. "Now let's get you and the other women out of this hellhole."

****

Shadow and Camilla were the last to emerge from the prison. Camilla insisted she could walk on her own, but as they began to climb the stairs, her steps grew unsteady, wavering with each upward movement.

Shadow could see the disbelief in her eyes, lingering traces of fear and uncertainty. He couldn't even begin to imagine being in her shoes, trapped in the darkness with no hope of escape. Wordlessly, he offered her his arm, and after a few moments of hesitation, she accepted, her grip firm yet fragile against his own.

There was something about this woman, something different from the others Rooster and he had rescued. She carried herself with a quiet strength, a resilience that belied the horrors she had endured.

Judging by the the state of her clothes and body, she had been here awhile but somehow, Camilla had maintained her dignity and pride.

As they emerged into the light, Shadow watched as Camilla blinked several times, her eyes adjusting to the bright building lights.

Rooster stood nearby, flanked by the five other women they had freed, who huddled together in a corner, their faces etched with a mixture of relief and disbelief.

Shadow's mind wandered back to the moment he had found Camilla, isolated from the others, kept apart as if she were a special prisoner.

The thought made his blood boil with anger. Why had she been singled out? What made her different from the rest? The questions swirled in his mind, unanswered and unsettling.

"What's this commotion I heard?" came Priest's voice, breaking through the silence.

Shadow turned to see Priest and three other MC brothers standing before them, their expressions a mixture of concern and curiosity.

Camilla tensed beside him, her grip tightening on his arm, and he felt a strange surge of protectiveness wash over him.

Shadow just met Camilla today, and yet in that moment, he made a decision. Whatever secrets she held, whatever darkness lurked in her past, he vowed to stand by her side and protect her from harm. She may have been a stranger, but in that moment, she felt like so much more.

"This is an unexpected complication," Priest remarked, his brow furrowed in consternation as he rubbed his forehead as if nursing a headache.

"We can't leave them here, Priest. The Reapers would just put them back in their cells," Shadow argued.

"I agree with Shadow," Rooster interjected. "I know we're on a time limit, but—"

"We are," Priest cut Rooster off abruptly, his tone firm and commanding. "Butcher just made contact. The Reapers' reinforcements are on their way."

He remembered Butcher as the one assigned to watch the road leading to the compound.

"Besides, we don't have transport for these women," Priest continued, his gaze sweeping over the group of freed captives.

"We can use the Reapers' vehicles. I spotted two trucks outside the building," Shadow suggested, his mind already racing with plans to ensure their escape.

The Reapers likely used them for transport, and now they could serve a different purpose—a means to freedom for those who had suffered at their hands.

Camilla clung to him tightly, fear palpable in her trembling body. Shadow felt the urge to pull her close, to offer her some semblance of comfort in the chaos, but he resisted. It wouldn't be appropriate, not with Priest watching their every move with a keen eye.

"Fine, we don't have much time. Let's do this quickly," Priest said, much to Shadow ' s relief.

With a sense of urgency, they sprang into action, knowing their window of opportunity was rapidly closing. They had to move fast if they were to escape the Reapers and bring these women to safety.

As they sorted out the logistics of who would ride in which vehicle, Camilla reached for Shadow's hand, her grip firm.

"I'm going with you," she said.

Shadow nodded in silent agreement, feeling a sense of responsibility settling over him.

Minutes later, Rooster pulled up with their truck, now laden with crates of stolen goods.

Observing Camilla's shiver as they waited, Shadow couldn't help but feel another surge of concern toward her.

Initially contemplating riding up front with Rooster, Shadow reconsidered, opting instead to join Camilla in the back. He held the back door open for her, allowing her to slide into the seat before him. There was a trust between them, a silent understanding he couldn't quite explain. Plus, he harbored a curiosity about why the Reapers had singled her out from the others, a question he hoped to find answers to during the journey.

As they began the ride back to Hanging Grove, Camilla leaned into him, her head finding its place on his shoulder.

Shadow couldn't deny the warmth that blossomed in him at her proximity. He wrapped an arm around her, providing what comfort he could during the ride.

Her story could wait. For now, all that mattered was ensuring her safety and well-being.