8. Ty

Chapter 8

Ty

T he evening air knifed through my lungs, sharp and unforgiving, as I pushed myself harder, pounding down the pavement like I was trying to outrun my own goddamn thoughts. The trees blurred past, their leaves rustling like ghosts whispering secrets I didn’t want to hear.

Two years. That’s how long it’d been since my family was slaughtered. Two years since I’d cut Camille out of life. Two years since people first began whispering behind my back, accusing me of being the one who killed my family, claiming I was fleeing from the scene drunk when I killed an innocent person.

They’d had it partly right. Distraught by my family’s murder, I had killed an innocent person that night. I could still remember the flash of the car's lights bearing down on me before I’d passed out. I hadn’t seen the wreckage in person, only in photos after I came to in the hospital fighting for life, my face and body riddled with scars. I still felt the gut-wrenching guilt that had consumed me as I sat in prison for eighteen months. Guilt over the person I'd killed. Guilt that I was helpless to find my family's killer.

Guilt that I’d hurt Camille even though doing so had felt like I was cutting off all my limbs at the time.

When I got out of prison on a technicality, I’d vowed to find my family’s murderer. My search had come up empty until a clue had led me to Crimsonvale University, the same school that Camille now attended. My goal had been clear—find the killer and make them pay while keeping my distance from Camille, only her finding Ava’s body in the river and the subsequent events that followed had made that impossible. Despite me being mostly dead inside, Camille had found a way to worm herself back into my thoughts and confirm that while it might be shriveled and black, I still had a beating heart.

Camille.

I hated that her name always came up when I thought about the past, like some permanent scar I couldn’t stop tracing. I’d told myself cutting her off was the right move, that I was protecting her from the shitstorm my life had become. But now? Seeing her again, watching her with Kage and Dante, knowing I couldn’t have her? It was enough to make me want to punch through brick.

I pushed myself to run harder. My body was screaming for me to stop, but my mind was relentless. I ran until my muscles burned, and until the cold air felt like fire in my lungs. Finally, I stopped, doubled over, hands on my knees, gasping for breath. I looked up and realized my mind had subconsciously taken me close to the hospital where Kage was. Where Camille probably was.

My jaw tightened. Dante’s texts had been a sick kind of torture. First, he’d saved Camille and Kage from going over a cliff. Then he’d told me about Camille finding out Kage was engaged to someone else. She’d broken down, and Dante had been the one to pick up the pieces.

That should’ve been me, but I’d never get that honor again.

The need to confront Kage surged through me in a wave of raw, unfiltered emotion. I knew it was hypocritical. I had hurt Camille first, pushed her away to protect her, but that didn’t seem to matter. My heart was pumping, adrenaline spiking, and I needed to get this energy out. Running until I almost dropped hadn't done it, and I hadn’t taken drugs since the night Camille had found me on the floor, passed out from an overdose. I also hadn't cut myself since Dante caught me doing it in the backyard of the chateau. Without those vices, I’d been barely hanging on and something had to give. If I couldn’t see Camille for myself, and if I wasn’t going to fuck myself up, I could at least spew out my anger at Kage.

I straightened up, wiping the sweat from my brow, and headed towards the hospital. The automatic doors slid open with a sterile whoosh, and I strode inside, not bothering to ask for Kage’s room number. I knew he’d be in the ICU, so I headed straight there, my steps echoing in the quiet halls.

The ICU was a maze of rooms, each one holding its own set of tragedies. I moved from room to room, my eyes scanning each bed, each face, until I found the right one. The door was open, and I could see Kage lying in bed looking pale and frail against the stark white sheets, a contrast to the strong, unyielding image he usually presented.

Instead of barging in—there really wasn’t any point given Kage wasn’t conscious—I stood in the hall, my fists clenching at my sides. There were several people in the room with him. An older woman and Kage’s brother Callum.

There was also a girl I suspected was Kage’s fiancée.

I hated the bitch on sight.

My hatred changed course, however, when I focused on Kage again. I hated him for hurting Camille. But mostly I hated him because he’d been her first. She’d fucked fucked him and she loved him.

Her virginity and her love were supposed to be mine but I’d thrown them away, not because I didn’t want her more than anything else in the world, but because I’d been dead inside. I hadn’t wanted to blacken her.

Which was ironic because even though she’d watched Kage ruthlessly slit the throat of the guy who’d killed Ava, she’d chosen him. Afterward, she’d wrapped him in her arms, and for a moment, I’d almost collapsed at the knowledge that Kage had irrevocably taken my place in Camille’s heart.

I was about to walk away when Kage’s eyes flickered and his head shifted.

He was coming to.

Kage

Waking up felt like being dragged through broken glass. My chest was on fire, every breath a jagged stab, but none of that mattered.

“Camille.”

The word scraped out of my throat, barely more than a whisper. My heart jackhammered as panic clawed at me. Where was she? The last thing I remembered was the Bugatti hanging over the cliff, Camille refusing to leave me.

A soft touch on my hand pulled me out of my spiraling fear. The hand was warm and soft, fingers curling gently around mine. Camille. Thank God. I struggled to open my eyes and finally succeeded. I could make out shapes and colors around me. Hospital monitors beeped steadily, their rhythmic sounds blending into the background noise of distant voices and footsteps.

“Kage.” I instantly recognized my mother’s voice.

Shit, was Seamus here, too? I wrapped my fingers tighter around Camille’s, trying to give her comfort. Even after Silas’s confession, even after I’d slit his throat, my mother and stepfather still believed Camille was somehow responsible for Ava’s murder. Even as I appreciated how fucking worried my mother must be about me, I didn’t want them anywhere near Camille. What had they said to her when I’d been out of it? Had they hurt her?

The thought jolted me, pushing me further into consciousness. If they had given her a moment’s pain or worry, there would be hell to pay.

I blinked hard and sure enough, my mother’s face came into view, her expression a mix of relief and worry.

“Where’s Camille?”

“Kage, calm down.”

“Where. Is. Camille?”

“I don’t know. But Daniella’s here for you. Your fiancée is here for you.”

The word hit me like a slap. Fiancée?

Before I could say anything, another female voice spoke from beside me. “Yes, I’m here, Kage. I won’t leave you.”

Daniella’s voice was calm and sweet, but it immediately sent a jarring wave of confusion and worry through me. The worry turned into panic when I realized it was Daniella who was holding my hand. I ripped my hand away and struggled to sit up despite the searing pain in my chest.

It didn’t make sense. Camille would never abandon me. She loved me. I clung to that thought, staring hard at my mother.

“What did you do?”