Weird happenings.

CAMILA

_^_

I stood frozen in my room, my bare feet were rooted to the hardwood, my breath was hitching as Katherine’s laugh faded into the fog outside.

King’s voice—low, lethal, *“Get behind me”*—was still ringing in my ears, but I couldn’t move, my silver bracelet was clinking faintly as my hands trembled. Someone had been here. In my space. And that laugh—high, wild, hers—had turned my blood to ice.

“Camila,” King snapped, his hand was grabbing my wrist, pulling me back from the window. His hazel eyes were blazing, his jaw was clenched tight beneath the stubble, and his heat was seeping into me, grounding me even as my mind spun. “I said get behind me.”

I yanked free, my voice was shaking but sharp. “Don’t touch me! What the hell’s going on, King? That was Katherine and someone was in my room. You’re not telling me anything, and I’m done with it!”

He stepped closer, his boots were crunching over the glass, his broad shoulders were blocking the window’s light. “I don’t know yet,” he had said, his tone was rough, clipped. “But I’ll handle it. Stay here.”

“Stay here?” I laughed, a bitter sound was spilling out as I threw my hands up. “Someone broke in, laughed like a damn lunatic, and you want me to just sit pretty? No way. I’m not your doll, King—I’m not waiting around to get grabbed.”

His eyes had narrowed, a flicker of something—anger, maybe frustration—was crossing his face before he masked it. “You’re not a doll,” he had said, his voice dropping low, almost soft. “You’re… necessary. I told you that. But you need to trust me on this.”

“Trust you?” I stepped back, my sneakers were brushing the edge of the bed, my chest was tightening. “I don’t even know you! You’ve got ‘men who handle things,’ secrets you won’t spill, and now this? I signed up to be painted, not hunted!”

He didn’t answer right away, just watched me, his gaze was piercing through the dimness. The silence was heavy, broken only by the faint creak of the house and the rustle of the curtains.

Then he sighed, a rough sound was scraping out of him, and ran a hand through his black hair, messing it more. “I’m not letting anything happen to you, Camila. That’s a promise.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but footsteps were pounding up the stairs, cutting me off.

Leonard burst in, his brown hair was wild, his suit was still rumpled, and his smirk was gone, replaced by a tight-lipped frown. “Heard a scream,” he had said, his eyes were flicking between us, lingering on the glass. “What’s this mess?”

“Someone was here,” I said, my voice steadying as I pointed at the window. “Broke in, left my shoe like a calling card. And Katherine’s out there laughing about it.”

Leonard’s brow had arched, his gaze was darting to King. “Katherine? Little purple-haired menace causing trouble again? Thought you had her on a leash, boss.”

King’s jaw was ticking, his hands were flexing at his sides. “She’s not on anyone’s leash,” he had growled. “And if she’s behind this, I’ll deal with her. You see anything out there?”

Leonard shrugged, his casual air was grating on me. “Just fog and shadows. Could’ve been her, could’ve been some punk. You sure it’s not one of your… associates, King? Stirring the pot?”

“Watch it,” King had warned, his voice was low, dangerous. “Get downstairs. Check the perimeter with the others.”

Leonard nodded, his smirk was creeping back as he glanced at me. “Stay safe, Kate. Wouldn’t want you caught in the crossfire.” He sauntered out, his footsteps were fading, leaving me with King and the wreckage of my room.

I turned on him, my frustration was boiling over. “Associates? What’s he talking about? And don’t give me that ‘men who handle things’ line again—I want the truth, King. Who are you really?”

He stepped closer, his heat was overwhelming, and I hated how it steadied me even as I wanted to shove him away. “I’m someone who keeps his promises,” he had said, his voice was rough but firm. “That’s all you need right now. Let me fix this.”

I stared up at him, my heart was thudding, torn between the pull I felt and the fear clawing at me. Before I could push harder, a soft sob had echoed from the hall—Claire, her small frame was trembling as she peeked in, her apron was twisted in her hands.

“Master King,” she had whimpered, her eyes were wide with terror. “There’s… there’s blood. On the stairs. I didn’t see it before.”

My stomach dropped, my silver eyes were snapping to King. His face had hardened, his body was tensing like a predator on alert. “Show me,” he had ordered, brushing past me, his shoulder was grazing mine, sending a jolt through me I couldn’t shake.

I followed, my sneakers were silent on the hardwood, Claire’s sniffles were guiding us down. On the stairs, a smear of red was glistening—fresh, wet, streaking the polished wood like a warning. My throat had tightened, my mind was racing. Blood? From who? Katherine? The intruder?

King knelt, his fingers were hovering over the stain, his voice was a growl. “This wasn’t here ten minutes ago.” He stood, his eyes were scanning the foyer below, dark and empty. “Someone’s still in the house.”

My heart twisted, my hand was gripping the banister as a creak sounded from the shadows downstairs, soft like a footstep testing the floor.