The Camp (Chateau 2)

I felt nothing.

I looked down and got back to work.

I was there when the girls were dismissed.

I told the guards to carry the packaged cocaine to the storage facility so it could be put on the wagons tomorrow morning. With my clipboard in hand, I walked off, headed back to my cabin to get the information logged so Fender could access it.

“Magnus.”

I stilled at the sound of her voice. It took me a second to turn around and look at her, caught by surprise because I hadn’t expected her. Alix wouldn’t stab me in the middle of the day with everyone gathered in one place, so it was the one time I felt safe.

She was still bloody and bruised from her beating the other day, and up close, she looked even worse.

I pulled down my hood so she could see my face.

See how much I didn’t care.

She flinched at the hostile look in my gaze.

“Leave. Before I kill you—”

“I’m sorry.” Her eyes watered and quickly turned into tears.

Her guard realized she’d run off, so he marched toward her to retrieve her. She’d be punished for what she did.

But she didn’t care about the consequences. “I don’t regret what I did…but I’m sorry that I hurt you.” Tears dripped down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry—”

“I’m not going to help you.”

Her eyes tightened into confusion. “I know…I’m not asking. I just needed you to know—”

Eric grabbed her by the throat and yanked on her. “You run from me, bitch?” He pulled her away then grabbed her by the hair, dragging her across the ground until he released her. Then he kicked her. “Up. Come on.”

I stood and watched.

She pushed herself to her feet slowly.

Then he pushed her again, making her fall back down.

He did it over and over, watching her get up, move a couple feet, and then he kicked her again.

I headed back to the cabin as if nothing happened.

I left with the wagons in the morning.

I didn’t concern myself with Raven’s treatment. Whether I was there or not, her punishment would be the same. She wouldn’t be killed because Fender had decided death was too good for her.

It took us the entire day to reach the end of the road and get the product on the trucks. It all happened quickly, barely taking a few minutes, so no one would notice from the main road. The doors were shut, and then I got into the back with the rest of the guys.

My outfit was discarded, and I put on jeans and a t-shirt.

I sat on one of the pallets and leaned against the wall, drinking a bottle of water as we started our long journey to our processing facility in the middle of Paris. The outsides of the trucks were marked with a fictitious food delivery logo.

Baker’s Dozen Baguettes.

But the real world knew who we really were.

Carcass.

Gilbert answered the door and let me inside, addressing me in French. “It’s been a long time, sir. How are you?” He was the only person in this world who treated me with respect, other than the lower henchmen and Parisian distributors.

“Fine.”

Gilbert led me farther inside, in his customary black tuxedo, walking slightly ahead so he could guide me where I was allowed to wait. “His Highness will be down in a moment. Is there something I can get for you while you wait? Glass of wine?”

“Something stronger, Gilbert.”

He nodded then excused himself.

I looked out the back windows to the lush gardens, the long pathway that carried through the acres of land into the French countryside. The hydrangeas blossomed in colors of purple and blue, and pink roses were dispersed everywhere. The gardens had been maintained for hundreds of years, most of the plants receiving better care than hospital patients. This place was a legacy and had more value than a person’s life.

I stood there, remembering the last time I was in that room.

Raven was with me.

I’d stood there and asked my brother for a favor so ridiculous that I felt stupid for asking, but I did it anyway. I even took it a step further and used our shared blood to get what I wanted, when I’d never done that in our entire lives.

I regretted that…deeply.

Gilbert brought the short glass to me. “He’ll be down momentarily.” He gave a slight bow before he excused himself from the room.

I drank the whole thing in a single gulp then held the empty glass at my side.

Booze, money, women…couldn’t drown out this shame.

His footsteps sounded behind me. “You’ve nearly recouped our losses.”

I kept my gaze out the window. “The women are working longer.”

“You’ve negotiated more product?” He came to my side, looking out the window with a glass of scotch in his hand. He was shirtless and barefoot, in his sweatpants.

It was difficult to get our contacts in Colombia to deliver more cocaine because it was risky to put it on the airliner, even just an extra palette. But I convinced them to do it…after a few attempts. “Yes.”