“It’s him,” she says, looking up at me. “It’s my father.”
“I know. Get dressed.”
When I threatened Camilo outside, I knew it wouldn’t be the end of it. He told me as much. But until Amara’s father and I have settled things, we’ll never be able to move on with our lives. This has to happen. As painful as it might be, we have to face each other.
Dressing in my jeans and shirt from last night, I hear his voice. It’s deep, rumbling, confident, and there’s a slight accent to it like a remnant from another life.
“Come out, both of you. This ends tonight.”
He’s right about that. But if he thinks he’s going to scare me into leaving Amara, he’s wrong. I lean down and kiss the top of her head, seeing the fear in her eyes, but I stroke her cheek as I speak: “Don’t worry. We’re just going to talk.”
“You don’t know what he’s—”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes, but—”
“Do you trust me?” I repeat and she nods, taking a deep breath.
“I trust you.”
“Then just get dressed. Pack a few things. Tonight we’re going back to my place, and tomorrow we can come back here for the rest of your stuff. Don’t worry. Nobody is going to hurt anyone tonight, there’s been enough bloodshed already.”
She nods, and I see the fear in her eyes. But there’s love, too, and faith. And that’s all I need.
As I head for the door, I push my feet into my shoes, then steel myself for what I have to do. He won’t be happy, but I have to believe that somebody smart enough to run the city without anyone knowing about it is smart enough to read the writing on the wall.
“That’s him,” says a voice as I step outside, and I glance across to Camilo, who grins and waves his hand. “Told you it wasn’t over.”
I nod, then turn to the man in front of him. He’s dressed in a long black coat and a suit that probably cost a year’s salary for someone like me. But it’s not all for show. The fact he’s here with no backup except one lieutenant tells me he’s confident, that nothing phases him, and that he’s known struggle. His slight paunch might look different on another man, but he carries it with an air of authority. He’s the king of his own little world, and I’m just a pawn to be brushed aside.
Well, by the time this is done, he’ll know one thing: Amara is my queen, and I’ll be the knight between them to the end.
“I want you to know, son, this is nothing personal. From what Camilo says, you’ve got skills. We could have used you. It’s a shame my daughter had to bring you into her defiance, but that’s the way it is. I can’t have someone like you defiling her and let it go. She’s promised elsewhere.”
“Nice speech,” I tell him. “But Amara isn’t your property. You don’t get to say who she can and can’t fall in love with.”
He laughs. “Love? Let me tell you a little something about love. It doesn’t exist. It’s all just hormones and lust. Her mother was a looker, I can tell you, but we were never in love.”
I shrug. “Then I feel sorry for you. But what we have together is different.”
His face darkens as he rolls his eyes, then I hear the soft click of the door behind me and turn to find Amara stepping out, a dress hugging her ample curves. I think in that moment I fall in love all over again, and I know that what I’m doing is the right thing.
“Amara,” her father says. “You do know you’re going to get him killed? Why couldn’t you have just come home and spared all this unpleasantness?”
“Father, I love you. But I’m not going anywhere with you. Saint and I are in love. Constantine will just have to find someone else—”
He laughs. “You think Constantine will want you now? I know what the two of you have been doing, I can read it on your faces. Constantine wanted you pure, I doubt very much he’ll be interested in cast offs.”
With a growl, I step forward. Nobody speaks to Amara like that, not while I’m around. I feel her hand on my shoulder, trying to stop me, but her father needs to learn his lesson.
As I reach the bottom of her steps, her father grins, pulling out a pistol. “Sorry, son, I really didn’t want to do this.”
And the chuckle begins in my throat.
I fold my arms across my chest as I saunter to a halt just a few yards from him. Game over.
“I don’t see that this is much of a laughing matter, Saint,” Camilo says, and I shoot him a look, making him fall silent.