[Camden]“Kendall,” I call, my voice steady but with a touch of urgency. “We need to talk about this. You’ll be safer there.”“I’m safe here!” she insists, her voice defiant, with a hint of desperation. “You take care of me, Camden. You’ve been there since day one.” There’s a weight to her words, an unspoken trust that makes my chest tighten. I watch her, standing a few feet away, the morning light casting a warm glow around her damp hair, the faint scent of her shampoo mingling with the coolness in the room. “I’ll still be around, Kendall,” I say, though the lie tastes bitter. I reach for her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against my palm. “But I can do a lot more in terms of finding him if I’m not locked down here.”To be honest, I haven’t been doing much in the way of looking for Marco. It’s been a while since I called around, reaching out to the guys I used to know, the ones who still run in those circles. My fists clench. Maybe I don’t want this to end. Maybe I don’t want
[Kendall]I’m straightening up and vacuuming inside while Camden cleans out the pool, and I think to myself how domestic we are. The hum of the vacuum fills the room, but underneath, there's a comfortable stillness—a kind of warmth that echoes the quiet intimacy we share. Camden usually makes dinner because I’m simply not that good of a cook, but sometimes I bake cookies or cakes. The smell of vanilla and sugar often lingers in the kitchen, mingling with whatever dish he’s prepared. We watch reality television every week, a show that we both like, and we usually fall asleep on the couch those nights. The weight of his arm draped over me, his warmth against my back, is the last thing I feel before I drift off. If we don’t fall asleep there, we fall asleep after making love, curled into each other, his hand resting possessively on my hip.It’s been three weeks since Camden mentioned taking me to Dante’s, and about six weeks since we went on the run, and I can’t help but wonder what ha
[Kendall]“Don’t leave so soon, fatty,” he mumbles against my ear, his breath hot and sour on my neck, sending a shiver of revulsion through me. His hand moves up, rough fingers grazing my skin before his forearm presses against my throat. My vision darkens at the edges, and panic explodes inside me. He’s going to strangle me, and the realization hits like ice in my veins.I do the only thing I can think of. I bite him, sinking my teeth into his skin until I taste iron, bitter and metallic. He yelps, his grip loosening just enough for me to stumble forward, the world spinning as I barely manage to keep my balance. I feel something hot streak past my cheek, a sharp sting flaring as it slices my skin, but I don’t have time to think about it. I just need to get out of here. Now.I yank the sliding door open, heart pounding, my breath coming in panicked gasps. I hear his heavy footsteps right behind me, and just as I’m about to scream, a cold, unyielding metal presses against my cheek.I
I only let Kendall rest for a few moments after my breakdown, grabbing the two bug-out bags that I’ve stashed in the pantry in the kitchen. The sound of the zipper tearing through the silence feels deafening, my movements sharp, driven by urgency. The cool metallic pull of the bag in my hands contrasts with the warmth of the dimly lit room, which suddenly feels stifling. There’s so much we’ll have to leave behind, but I don’t care. The air tastes bitter, like regret, and I shove it aside, focusing on the task. I walk into the bedroom, my footsteps muffled by the worn carpet. Kendall has her eyes closed, her lashes casting shadows against her pale cheeks. The dark bruises beneath them look like smudged ink, sharp against her too-fair skin. “We have to go, *principessa*,” I say softly, my voice catching on the last syllable. She stirs, slowly sitting up and swinging her legs off the bed. The mattress creaks faintly, a reminder of the fragile moment we’re in. She rises cautiously, f
He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. He’s probably had many guns stuck in his face before. The tension in the room is thick, the muted sound of Kendall’s breathing the only thing breaking the silence. “This the patient?” he asks, gesturing toward Kendall. I nod, my throat tight, and Jimmy steps toward her, his leather bag creaking softly as he sets it down. His sharp eyes scan her injuries—the awkward angle of her shoulder, the stark white bandage standing out against her cheekbone like a brand. “It’s my shoulder,” she says, her voice soft but steady, though I can see the strain behind it. “And your cheek,” he comments. His voice is calm, almost clinical, as if assessing injuries is as routine as brushing his teeth. “Let’s get that shoulder stabilized, and then we’ll see if you need stitches, yeah?” Jimmy kneels beside her and takes her left hand gently, his fingers surprisingly delicate for a man who looks like he’s seen his fair share of bar fights. She winces—j
[Kendall]Camden looks at me, shocked, his face paling, and then he just stands up and walks out of the room. He doesn’t say a word to me, and I don’t follow.My head is spinning from the drugs and the trauma and the shock of Jimmy telling me that I’m pregnant.He said there was no way to tell how far along I am without ultrasound equipment, but I haven’t been with anyone else for years, and I know the baby I’m carrying is Camden's. He must know it, too, because he hasn’t questioned me.I was happy at first, almost felt giddy.Jimmy was just looking at me with intense blue eyes.“Are you okay?” he asked.“What?” I felt out of it from the drugs, like this might be a dream I was having.“Do you want to...take care of it? I have my ways,” he said mysteriously, and I shook my head, shocked.“No. No, I want...I want the baby,” I said finally.He nodded. “Then I’ll leave these prenatal vitamins. Take them every day, and do your best to keep things down. I’ll leave some nausea medication, to
[Camden]I wake up with a vicious hangover, the sunlight streaming through the blinds feeling like spears in my eyeballs. My stomach rolls with the whiskey I ingested the night before, and I reach out for Kendall, groaning.She’s not in bed, and I sit up quickly, more pain spearing through my head.“Kendall?”She pops her head into the door. “I’m making pancakes,” she chirps, and I blink, feeling like my eyelids are sticking together.“You are? With one arm?” I ask incredulously.“It is kind of hard,” she admits, laughing a little, and I can’t believe she’s in such good spirits after everything that happened.She’s pregnant. The thought slams into me like a train, and I feel sick all over again, bolting out of bed and barely making it to the bathroom before throwing up in the toilet. I groan and brush my teeth and wash my face before coming out of the bathroom.I head into the kitchen to see Kendall standing there at the sink, washing up the dishes.“I’ll do that,” I mumble. “You shou
KendallA week later, I’m tired of the damn sling I’m wearing and I’m tired of Camden not touching me. I feel a lot better since the doctor gave me the nausea pills, and I stopped taking the other drugs the second day. I’m taking my prenatal vitamins every day, and I’m feeling a hundred times better.I keep telling Camden that, but since Jimmy can’t come out and see me until next week, he won’t give in. It’s driving me crazy, sleeping next to him every night and not being able to be with him. I look at his bare broad back and shoulders, stare at him every night, but there’s nothing I can do about it.I decide to ramp things up a little since Jimmy’s tied up with other emergent situations, and so at dusk, I go skinny dipping in the pool out back.It’s a fancy saltwater one, and it feels good on my injured shoulder, anyway. Camden's out on the terrace, fake-smoking as I call it, and the pool is right nearby, so I know he can see me as I shuck off my dress, throwing it on to the lawn cha
[Kendall]After we’re home, our baby finds his voice and screams the night away, but just when I think I’m getting to my breaking point, Camden's there.“I’ll take him for a while,” he says, pulling our son out of my arms.I run a hand through my mussed hair, exhausted. “He was crying all night,” I say.“Why didn’t you wake me?” he asks, frowning.“You looked so peaceful,” I tell him. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”Camden snorts. “Disturb me next time, principessa. I’m his father. I can do a lot of the work.”I look at him, disbelieving. I can’t believe he’s so involved when at first, I didn’t even know if he’d stick around even if he said he would.“I’m exhausted,” I admit. “And there’s baby vomit in my hair and I’m pretty sure his diaper is full of the most heinous thing you’ve ever smelled.”Camden barks out a surprised laugh. “I’m interested in where this is going.”“But I’m so happy, Camden,” I said, tears running down my face. “I’ve never been so happy in all my life. I didn’t
KendallThe day of the wedding and everything goes wrong.It’s raining and Elora is late and I don’t know if I can go through with this.She finally shows up and her hair looks mussed and I groan.“I know you’ve got a man, you should just tell me,” I say, and she laughs.“Absolutely not. I just overslept. I’ve been single and with me, myself, and I,” she insists. “I’m so sorry, Kendall.”I haven’t seen Camden in three days and I miss him so much. We’ve been living together but I’ve been staying with my father for the last two days according to tradition.“I feel like I’m too pregnant for this dress,” I say.“You look beautiful. Camden is going to lose it the second he sees you,” she insists.°•°•°•°•°•°•°True to her words, when I walk down the aisle with Papa, Camden has a tear running down his cheek.“This dress is perfect, you are perfect,” he murmurs to me, and it reminds me of that first night, the first night he really noticed me in that dress, and I can’t help but smile, happ
Camden“If you really want to get married…” I start, but Kendall cuts me off.“I don’t care about that,” she says. “I just need to know that this isn’t drugs, so tell me all of this again when you’re off them,” she says.I sigh shallowly so that I don’t hurt myself. “It’ll be a while before I’m off all of them.”“I can wait,” she says stubbornly.So, we wait. We wait until I’m out of the hospital and then she goes to her first ultrasound and tears well in my eyes when I see pictures of the little peanut.Kendall moves in with the help of Dante and Elora and sets up my bed in the living room so that I don’t have to go upstairs. We’re sitting in the doctor’s office at her five month appointment. She’s been living with me and taking care of me all this time, even though I’m getting better now.“Can I tell you now that I love you?” I ask her, and she shakes her head.“You’re still taking pills,” she argues.I groan. “Kendall, this is getting ridiculous. You live here. You take care of m
KendallElora and I both are ordered to go home and we sleep in the same bed in my guest room, cuddled up together. We’ve been through a lot and we need that best friend comfort.When I wake, I immediately sit straight up in bed, thinking about Camden.“I have to get back to the hospital,” I mumble, and Elora yawns, grabbing my shoulder so I can’t get up.“Not yet,” she says. “You need to eat something. Have to feed that nephew of mine.”I chuckle in spite of everything. “You think it’s a boy?”“Just a hunch,” she says.“I guess we’ll see,” I say, rubbing a hand over my belly. “But shouldn’t we check on Camden?”“Mama’s up there with him now,” she says. “You don’t have to worry, she’ll call me if he sneezes.”I laugh a little. “All right. I guess I’ll eat.”My stomach feels like there’s a void in it, so I guess it’s a good idea.We walk downstairs and Marisa has made a spread that’s unbelievable.Mia is shoveling food in her face and she looks up at us and smiles.“Please sit. Maris
CamdenThe doctor comes in and I’m irritated, moving around.“Mr. Andretti, you have to stay still,” the doctor pleads. “You have tubes in your chest and they can’t be moved.”“He’s in pain,” Kendall says, seeing something on my face.“No,” I say. “I don’t want any drugs.”Kendall’s face is pleading with me. “Please, Camden. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”I sigh heavily and then groan because it hurts in my chest so much.“All right,” I croak, and the nurse puts a button in my hand.“Press this button,” she says, and when I do, something warm and relieving washes through me and my whole body relaxes. I feel myself drifting away.“Kendall,” I say, my words slurred. “Tell me that you know I love you.”“Sure,” she says, but I know that she doesn’t believe me.I struggle to say more but I can’t, I’m fading.“Camden,” she says quietly. “I—”But then I’m gone.°•°•°•°•°•°•°When I wake, Kendall isn’t in the room with me but I can still hear someone sobbing. When I turn my face, it’s El
CamdenI dream of Kendall. I dream of her with her eyes puffy from sleep, with her nightie bunched up, how she writhes beneath me. I dream of her in that little bikini she wore at the safe house, looking up at me with wide brown eyes.I remember hitting Marco, beating him so thoroughly that his face was unrecognizable. I remember Angelo’s pale, drawn face as I looked up at him. I don’t remember being hurt. I don’t know where I am when I open my eyes, looking up at the ceiling.“Camden?” someone says, some sweet voice that I know deep in my heart, and I look over to see Kendall staring at me with wide brown eyes. “Oh my god, he’s waking up,” she chokes, and I reach out for her and there’s a stab of pain in my chest that makes my breath hitch in my throat.“Principessa,” I choke out, but my mouth is so dry that I can’t make more words. I clear my throat, and as if reading my mind, Kendall brings me a glass of water with a straw.I sip it gratefully. “What happened?” I croak.“You were
Kendall I come to with Mia holding these awful smelling salts beneath my nose.“Camden,” I gasp, sitting up, and Mia struggles to her feet. She’s too pregnant to move quickly, but she does the best she can helping me up.“Go slow,” she warns, but her face is pale and I know something is wrong. I’m trying to remember what it is but passing out has made me so dizzy and fuzzy...Camden.I rush into the living room and Camden's on the couch, absolutely covered in blood. Dante and Angelo both have their hands on his back, holding pressure, and Jimmy Sawbones, the doctor to all the famiglia in the area, has just come in the door, rushing to the living room.I just stare at him, knowing that I’ll get in the way if I go over there.“Did you see the wound?” I ask Mia, and she slowly nods.“It’s bad, isn’t it?” I whisper.“It’s bad,” she agrees, and I feel faint again but I manage to keep consciousness, tears streaming down my face.“I can’t fix this,” Jimmy says almost immediately. “We have t
KendallAs soon as Camden leaves, I run upstairs to Elora’s room, banging wildly on the door.She comes to the door with her hair mussed and her eyes squinted since she hasn’t put in her contacts yet, glaring at me.“It’s seven in the goddamn morning, Kendall,” she complains, but then she sees the look on my face and stills. “What happened?”“Camden just left,” I babble. “He went after Marco.”Her green eyes widen. “Oh no, he fucking didn’t,” she curses, walking past me and running almost right into Dante. “How could you let him leave?”Dante shrugs. “I’m not his keeper.”“Don’t give me that,” she hisses. “You know going after Marco right now is suicide—”“Don’t claim to tell me what I know, Elora Andretti,” Dante says in a low voice, channeling his capo attitude, and I swallow hard.I don’t want Elora to get into trouble.“We’re just worried,” I explain, and Dante’s face softens.“I know, but you both know that Camden does what he wants. I couldn’t have stopped him if I wanted to.”
CamdenI swing by and pick up Angelo and he whistles when I open the duffel bag and show him the contents.“I’m keeping that automatic,” he says, and I snort out a laugh.“I figured.”“You don’t even have to pay me for this,” Angelo continues, hopping in the car as I shut the trunk. “I’ve been wanting to get rid of Marco Barone ever since he hit on my girlfriend.”I raise an eyebrow as I get in the car. “You don’t have a girlfriend.”“Not anymore,” he says mysteriously, and I don’t ask questions because Angelo wouldn’t tell me anyway. He keeps his personal life to himself, and I don’t blame him. In this lifestyle, it’s better to keep your mouth shut.We travel to the worst parts of the city, checking out the closest warehouse first. I’m pretty sure it’s not the one because it seems like a ghost town, and sure enough, there’s nothing but rats and mold in there.“How many of these are there?” Angelo complains.“Just three,” I answer.“Three?” he whines, always impatient, and I chuckle.