Blood and Roses

chapter 7

Camille

I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched, but this time, it wasn't just a fleeting sense of unease-it was real, constant, and suffocating. For days, maybe even weeks, I had grown used to the subtle presence of bodyguards lingering in the background, part of the scenery I could almost ignore. They were always discreet, keeping their distance, and for a while, it had been reassuring. I told myself it was just precaution, Rafael's way of ensuring my safety in his world. But lately, it was becoming unbearable. The black car parked a little too close, the same faces following my every move. The unspoken watchfulness had turned from protection to intrusion, a shadow I couldn't escape.

It wasn't just about safety anymore-it felt personal, invasive. Thoughtful gifts would appear on my doorstep, small tokens that spoke of an intimate knowledge of my life. A favorite book, a specific brand of tea I only drank after long shifts. They weren't things anyone could easily guess, and the realization that someone had been paying such close attention sent a chill down my spine. At first, I convinced myself I was overreacting, that it was some kind of overzealous security. But deep down, I knew better. It all traced back to him. Rafael.

I'd caught glimpses of him-always at a distance, always watching. His presence was like a magnet, pulling me in even when I didn't want it to. I couldn't deny the attraction that simmered beneath my frustration, but the constant surveillance made my life feel smaller, like I was caged in a way I hadn't signed up for. I had no idea what game he was playing, or why he hovered so close yet kept so much hidden. But I was done letting him pull the strings without confronting the truth.

That evening, after a long, grueling shift at the hospital, I found him waiting. Leaning against his car with that same unreadable expression, his eyes tracking my every move as I walked down the street. The usual calm I had tried to maintain was gone. My patience had worn thin, replaced by an uneasy mix of exhaustion and anger. I was tired of being watched, tired of being left in the dark.

"Rafael," I called out as I approached, the words escaping me sharper than I intended. "We need to talk."

He straightened, turning to face me fully, his gaze piercing through the fading daylight. His silence was maddening, the way he held everything so close, never giving me more than fragments. But tonight, I wasn't going to let him slip away with half-truths.

For a moment, he didn't move, just studied me with that dark, consuming look that always set my heart racing for reasons I couldn't-or wouldn't-acknowledge. I expected the usual evasive response, something cryptic and frustrating. But instead, he gave a slight nod, his jaw tightening.

"Get in," he said quietly, gesturing toward the car.

I hesitated. Everything in me screamed to walk away, to put distance between us and the secrets that threatened to engulf me. But I couldn't. I needed answers. With a deep breath, I opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, my pulse hammering in my ears. Rafael followed, settling into the driver's seat beside me, the air between us thick with unspoken tension.

He didn't drive far. Just a few blocks away, Rafael pulled into a secluded lot, the kind of place tucked away from the noise of the city. The dim lighting cast long shadows across the dashboard, and for a moment, the isolation made my skin prickle with unease. But I forced myself to stay calm, focusing on the fact that I was here for answers. The quiet between us grew heavier, like a storm gathering, waiting to break.

I turned to face him, my voice low but firm. "Why have you been following me? Why are you always there, watching but never saying anything? I deserve to know what's really going on, Rafael."

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly for a moment before he released a slow breath. He looked at me then, his eyes darker than I'd ever seen them, filled with something heavy, like regret or maybe fear. "It's not what you think, Camille," he finally said, his voice rough around the edges.