Chapter 26

Caleb Doyle wasn't prepared for her immediate agreement.

Camille Hartwell extended her hand. "Thank you for everything these past years."

Still stunned, Caleb shook it reflexively. "It was nothing."

Then, without hesitation, Camille gathered her belongings and walked out.

He stared after her, unable to process what had just happened.

Colin Keaton nudged him. "Earth to Ben?"

"Camille just resigned."

Colin blinked. "Seriously?"

He scoffed. "She'll be back. Probably running to Mrs. Harrington for help within the week."

Caleb stayed silent. But something about Camille's demeanor lately made him think otherwise.

Camille went straight home. No calls came from Chloe Harrington—no doubt preoccupied with Selene Lancaster.

Late that night, Elise Ellis spiked a fever.

Camille snapped her book shut, grabbed her keys, and rushed out.

Rain poured relentlessly, the streets nearly empty in the old district.

She stopped at a pharmacy near Elise's place. As she got back into her car, the passenger door swung open.

A masked figure slid inside, pressing a gun to her ribs.

"Don't move."

His voice was ice. The hat shadowed his face, but his gaze cut like a blade.

Camille lifted her hands slightly.

He took her purse and phone. "Drive me where I need to go, and you walk away unharmed."

Before she could respond, he snapped, "Now."

The deserted street offered no help. The metallic tang of blood hit her—strong, fresh.

She started the engine. "Where?"

"Cedarpoint Docks. I'll direct you."

"No need. I know it."

The drive passed in tense silence, his gun never wavering.

Thirty minutes later, she pulled under a tree as instructed.

He exited swiftly but hesitated when she spoke.

"I have medical supplies."

The blood scent had worsened during the drive.

Ignoring her, he vanished into the night.

Camille didn't press it. She turned the car around and left.

Minutes later, Tristan Rutherford boarded a waiting boat.

He removed his mask as his phone rang. While someone tended his wound, he answered.

Arlo Calloway's frantic voice crackled through. "Tristan! My men lost you—where the hell are you?"

"Cedarbrook. Minor detour."

"Christ, you scared me half to death!"

After a clipped exchange, Tristan hung up, staring at the distant tree with an unreadable expression.

Camille returned to Elise's apartment.

Medicated and fed, Elise frowned. "Why do I smell blood?"

"Not mine."

The stranger's blood had smeared her belongings. She'd cleaned it—mostly.