The Camp (Chateau 2)

Alix’s eyes immediately shifted to me, the cards held in his hands. “Look, one-nut chuck.”

The guards snickered at his joke.

I ignored him and entered the weapons room to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be. They’d put a bolt on Raven’s door so she wouldn’t be able to lock-pick her way out of there again. I accounted for everything and walked back out again.

Alix spoke to me again on my way out. “You think that cunt would still suck your dick with half a sac?”

In another scenario, I would just shank him for speaking to me that way, especially in front of the others. But I was the one who’d fucked up. I was the one who’d cost us everything. If I fought him, it would only make the others hate me more.

I took the steps to the ground and headed back to my cabin.

“Hey, asshole.” Alix’s voice erupted behind me.

I stopped but didn’t turn around. The lights from buildings cast limited illumination in the darkness, but I could picture him clearly in my mind far better than I could ever see him anyway.

“I asked you a question.”

I slowly turned around and stared him down.

Alix came down the stairs, in dark jeans and a t-shirt, grinning once he had my attention.

The rest of the guys moved to the porch—to witness whatever was about to happen.

Alix slowly came toward me, his boots kicking up little clouds of dry earth in his path. There were patches of grass, and soon the place would be covered in vegetation as the final bits of springtime cold faded.

His taunts enraged me, but again, I couldn’t be that angry.

I was the one who had betrayed them for a woman who had so easily betrayed me.

He came closer and closer, stopping just feet in front of me. “Does it feel different? When you fuck a woman?” Alix already despised me for all the times I’d helped Raven in the past. But now, his hatred was beyond the stratosphere. He would never stop this shit.

I could fight him, but even if I won, I still lost. I turned around and continued to walk.

“Do you come less?”

The guys on the porch snickered loudly.

I kept going.

His footsteps sounded behind me. “I’m talking to you, asshole.”

I walked at a normal pace because I wasn’t running from my enemy. I was simply indifferent.

Then his footsteps became quicker, telling me he was right behind me.

I quickly pivoted and steadied his arm, which held a blade that had been pointed at my back just seconds ago. I twisted it away, kneed him in the balls, and then slugged him in the stomach.

It happened too quickly for him to respond.

I twisted his elbow then pulled the knife out of his hand before I kicked him in the chest, and he fell back—landing on his ass.

He groaned when he landed, the dirt flying up into the air.

I approached him, holding the knife in my hand.

He looked up at me—furious that I’d humiliated him in front of everyone.

I threw the knife down, making the blade slice into the soil next to him, the hilt up so he could grab it. Then I extended my hand to him.

He stared at me, nostrils flared.

I handed his ass to him to remind him who he was dealing with. Then I asked for a silent truce, wanting this problem to go away, for the camp to return to its normal operations. I’d kill him if I had to, but if I did, the other guards would hate me more. Earning respect and giving mercy was the only way out of this predicament.

He looked at my hand then spat on it.

I dropped my hand, disappointed but unsurprised.

He got to his feet and grabbed the knife at the same time. After a final hostile stare, he returned the way he came.

I walked to my cabin—as if nothing had happened.

Five

The Note

I was the most hated man in the camp.

I took it in stride, didn’t complain to Fender, and brushed it off.

My door was always locked and bolted shut, and I always looked over my shoulder because there was always a target on my back. When I went to the clearing during the day to do paperwork, I felt her look at me again.

There was no chance of us speaking because she was never near me. I was never tempted to enter her cabin for a late-night conversation. If I came anywhere close, I might kill her.

I wasn’t sure how I didn’t choke her to death.

But I lifted my chin and looked at her anyway.

Her face was black and blue.

One eye was swollen shut because a fist had beaten her so badly. Her cheek was cracked with a scar that would be there forever. Her neck was even bruised, like she’d been choked then punched, and then choked again. Dried blood was in both corners of her mouth because she had no mirror to know what she looked like. She almost looked unrecognizable.