Chapter 124
Chapter 124:
He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Camille: Need to talk. Soon. Something’s happening with Victoria.
Then he followed Victoria from the office, wondering if they were all being maneuvered into exactly the positions Herod Preston wanted them in. Like pieces on a chessboard, thinking they were making their own moves while actually following the pattern a master player had designed for them. And if they were, Alexander wasn’t sure any of them would recognize the trap until it was too late.
Water closed over Camille’s head. Cold, so cold it burned her skin. She kicked toward the surface, arms flailing, lungs screaming for air. But something held her down, hands gripping her ankles, dragging her deeper into the darkness. She looked down. Rose stared back at her, grinning, her hair floating around her face like seaweed. Beside her, Herod Preston, his eyes flat and shark-like. They pulled harder. The pressure in Camille’s chest grew unbearable.
She opened her mouth to scream, but only bubbles escaped as water rushed in.
Camille jolted upright in bed, gasping. Her nightgown stuck to her skin, soaked with sweat. For a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was. Then the familiar outlines of her bedroom at the Kane mansion took shape in the darkness.
Just a dream. The same dream that had haunted her for months after Rose’s betrayal. The one Victoria’s training had eventually banished.
Until now.
Camille switched on the bedside lamp, chasing away the shadows. The digital clock read 3:17 AM. She pushed back the tangled sheets and moved to the window, pressing her forehead against the cool glass. Below, the estate’s gardens stretched out, security lights casting strange patterns across the manicured lawns. Beyond the gates, Manhattan glittered in the distance. This was the third night in a row the nightmare had returned. Each time more vivid. Each time harder to shake off.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Alexander’s text:
Your new favorite stories are at gαℓησν𝒆𝓁s․com
How did he always know?
Camille typed back: Bad dream again.
Three dots appeared immediately. Coming over. Kitchen. Hot chocolate.
A small smile touched her lips despite the lingering dread from the nightmare. Alexander had developed an almost supernatural sense for when she couldn’t sleep. Since their visit to his childhood home, since that first real kiss, their connection had deepened into something that sometimes frightened her with its intensity.
Camille pulled on a silk robe and padded barefoot down the mansion’s grand staircase. The house was silent except for the occasional creak of settling wood and the soft footsteps of security guards patrolling outside.
In the kitchen, she switched on a single light and filled the kettle. Alexander would arrive in exactly twelve minutes. He always did, no matter what time she texted. One of the many mysteries about him she hadn’t solved yet.
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