32. Camille

Chapter 32

Camille

A fter Ty, Kage, and I ate our sandwiches in tense silence, Kage finally stood, brushing crumbs off his hands. “Okay, I’m off. I told my mom I’d stop by the house.”

When I stiffened, he quickly added, “I’m just seeing my mom, Rebel. I promise.”

Relief swept through me, though it was tempered with doubt. Knowing his mom, there was always a chance she’d ambush him by inviting Daniella over. “Have a good visit,” I said, keeping my tone neutral.

“I’ll see you tonight, baby.” Kage leaned down and kissed me, his lips rough and unapologetically possessive. It left me breathless, and as he sauntered out of the kitchen, I couldn’t help but wish he was coming upstairs with me instead of heading out.

“I’ll see you later,” Ty announced suddenly, breaking my momentary daze.

I turned to him, curious. “Where are you off to?”

“Class,” he replied, his voice clipped.

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re lying. You don’t have class right now.”

He cocked an eyebrow at me, his tone laced with irritation. “And why do you think that’s your business? We’re not friends, Camille. We’re barely even housemates. I don’t owe you a play-by-play.”

Classic Ty. Moody and closed-off, just like always. But I’d learned how to read him, and something about the tension in his jaw told me this wasn’t just a random trip. “Does this have something to do with your parents’ tattoos?” I asked softly.

His entire demeanor darkened, a storm cloud brewing in his eyes. “None of your fucking business.”

Which meant yes. “Tell me where you’re going,” I pressed.

“No.”

“Then I’ll follow you.”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus Christ, Camille. You’re exhausting.”

“And you’re a terrible liar,” I shot back. “Tell me where you’re going, or I’ll just tail you. It’s not like I don’t know how to find Silas’s dad’s house—it’s practically down the road from where I grew up.”

Ty’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening. “Fine,” he ground out. “I’m going to Silas’s father’s place. I need to figure out if those tattoos are connected to my parents. But don’t get any ideas. I don’t need your help.”

“Let me come with you,” I offered immediately.

“No.” His tone was sharp, but his eyes flickered with something else. Worry, maybe?

“You might need a lookout,” I argued. “I can wait in the car and text you if anyone shows up.”

“No,” he said again, more firmly this time. “It’s too dangerous.”

“If you don’t let me come, I’ll just follow you,” I countered. “You know I will.”

Ty slammed his fist against the wall, the sound reverberating through the kitchen. “God, you’re such a pain in my ass,” he growled, his voice low and heated.

“Oh, coming from you? That’s rich,” I retorted, crossing my arms.

His gaze pinned me in place, a mix of frustration and something darker. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t some fucking adventure, Camille. This could go sideways fast, and if something happens to you, Kage and Dante will string me up. So why don’t you just stay here and let me deal with my shit?”

“I’m not scared of Kage or Dante,” I shot back. “And I’m definitely not scared of you. Face it, Ty. You know it makes sense for me to come.”

For a long moment, he just stared at me, his eyes flickering with unspoken emotions. Finally, he muttered, “Fine. But if you get hurt, don’t expect me to feel bad for dragging your stubborn ass back.”

“Deal,” I said, grabbing my jacket before he could change his mind.

The drive to Silas’s father’s house was steeped in an awkward silence. Ty’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw locked as he focused on the road. I wanted to ask what was going through his mind, but I knew better than to poke the bear. Still, the tension between us was suffocating, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his bad mood than he was letting on.

When we arrived, the house loomed before us like something out of a Gothic novel. It was massive, its grandeur intimidating even with the eerie stillness surrounding it. Ty parked a block away, and we crept toward the property under the cover of the shadows.

“This is where you stay put,” Ty ordered, his voice low but firm.

“Not a chance,” I whispered back, following him to the back door.

Ty let out a frustrated sigh but didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled out a small device and began working on the alarm system. Watching him work with such precision, I couldn’t help but admire the sheer focus in his expression.

The door clicked open, and we stepped inside, the air heavy with the scent of polish and something faintly metallic. My heart raced, adrenaline pumping through my veins. We were doing this—breaking into a house that could hold clues about what Silas and Troy had been mixed up in.

We moved in silence, our steps cautious on the polished floor. I kept close to Ty, not wanting to admit I was a bit freaked out. The house felt like it was watching us, the portraits on the walls eyeing our every move.

We hadn't gotten far when Ty suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. I almost bumped into him, stopping just in time.

“Holy fucking shit,” Ty breathed softly.

“What is it?” I turned around to find Ty staring at a painting. The swirls and use of color felt familiar to me, but I couldn’t place why. “What am I looking at?”

“An original Van Gogh,” Ty murmured, awe in his expression.

“Original?” My eyes widened. “An original would be worth?—”

“A fuck ton of money,” Ty finished, shaking his head in amazement.

“How do you know it’s not just a really good knock-off?” I asked.

“Take a look around you. Does this seem like a place where someone would have anything other than an original hanging on their wall?” Ty said. “That, and you can tell by the finish on the painting that it’s real. See here?” He pointed to an area on the painting that looked like little waves. “There’s nobody in the world who could recreate this piece with so much precision. She’s stunning, isn’t she?”

“Amazing,” I agreed.

But I wasn’t looking at the painting anymore. My attention was on Ty, watching the way his face lit up as he studied the piece. All his walls were down, and the Ty I knew, the one I’d fallen in love with, was shining through. I felt like I was gazing deep into his soul, capturing a side of him that I might never see again.

“You really are in heaven right now, aren’t you?” I teased.

He smiled—he actually smiled. “What can I say? Art brings out a side of me that not even you can dampen.”

I let his dig slide, determined to keep this side of Ty with me for as long as possible.

“Now I know what to tell Kage to get you if you ever deserve some serious gratitude again—art, art, art.”

Ty laughed. My god, who was this guy?

Whoever he was, my heart yearned for more of him.

“Humor me,” I began. “What’s your ultimate bucket list when it comes to art? The one thing you’d want above everything else?”

“You mean aside from an original Van Gogh?” He thought about it for a moment. “Do you remember that gallery I took you to in Italy, the painting of the couple staring up at the starry sky?”

How could I forget? It was the night of our first kiss. We’d gone to dinner at a cute little restaurant. Ty had ordered for me because the menu had been in Italian. Afterward, we’d taken a walk by the river and passed a small gallery. Ty had taken my hand and insisted we go inside.

“I remember,” I said, a lump forming in my throat.

“That is at the top of my bucket list.”

Thinking about how much fun we’d had back then made me sad. It was the happiest I’d ever been. There was a time I was sure I’d spend the rest of my life with this man; then he ripped that life away from me. Even now, with everything that had changed, even with Kage and Dante in my life, there was a small part of me that wondered if I would ever be that happy again.

“We had some good times together,” I whispered, as much to myself as to Ty.

He was silent for a moment, then he nodded. “Yeah, we did.”

We both stood there for a moment, lost in the memory. Then the moment was gone. Ty turned to me, his expression blank once again, his eyes clear of emotion.

“He could be home any minute. We shouldn’t have wasted so much time talking about shit that doesn’t matter anymore.”

Hearing him say that hurt, but I was quicker to recover this time.

“We need to split up,” he muttered.

I nodded. Whatever got us out of here faster.

I split off from Ty, heading towards the west wing of the massive house while he veered east. The plan was simple: search every nook and cranny for anything that might give us a clue as to what Silas and his brother had been up to and whether their dad was involved as well. My heart pounded against my ribs, adrenaline fueling my steps as I moved from room to room, my eyes scanning for anything out of place.

The opulence of the house was staggering, each room more lavishly decorated than the last. I rummaged through drawers, peeked behind paintings, and even lifted rugs, searching for safes or hidden compartments. Nothing.

As I entered what looked like an office, I glanced out the window and froze as a car turned into the driveway.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath, watching as Silas’s dad pulled up. I whipped out my phone and shot a quick text to Ty: He’s here. Hide.

Without waiting for a response, I darted into the closest hiding spot—a spacious walk-in closet filled with suits and leather shoes that smelled of money and secrets. I barely caught my breath when I noticed it: a faint outline in the wall that seemed out of place. Curiosity getting the better of me, I pressed against it, feeling it give way slightly. A secret door.

Heart hammering, I slipped through, finding myself in a tiny, windowless room. The air was stale, the space littered with filing cabinets, boxes, and a desk. My gaze landed on the cloth banner hanging along the back wall. It was adorned with symbols, each one meticulously detailed. It included symbols for different trees. I hurried up to it, recognizing an oak tree, a yew, redwood needles...

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks— this was the link between Silas, Ava, and Ty's family. But there were more symbols, too. I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps just beyond the closet door. Panic set in, and I quickly shut the secret door, plunging myself into darkness. I pressed my ear against it. My breath hitched, and I willed myself to be as silent as possible. The closet door opened, and I heard someone moving around, the sound of hangers scraping against the metal bar. I was trapped, with nowhere to run if he decided to check here next. The tension in the air was thick, my every breath loud in my ears.

Then the door to my hiding spot began to open.