His Camelia [Completed]

Chapter 15- Her Knight

"Put the gun down and your hands where I can see them!" Kent calls out.

Camelia stiffened, hearing his commanding voice. Five minutes passed since they last spoke when Kent last instructed her to say hidden until he called the secret word.

She hears scuffling and heavy breathing. A gun shot fires in the distance. Camelia felt her heart stop as she stared at the phone screen in horror. The urge to run out of her hiding place and see what was going on was overwhelming.

She almost moved, but stopped, holding her breath, a lump lodging in her throat. It was worse to know what was happening and not able to see the outcome. It was pure and utter torture. Much like being handcuffed at the wrists and ankles, unable to move. 

Silently suffering in her own misery. 

Stuck. Trapped. Confined.

Another shot fires.

Kent.

The blood in her veins turned to ice. She was left paralyzed as the worst scenarios kept replaying in her mind. "Kent?" Calling out his name in a small child-like voice, afraid she'd never hear his voice again.

All movement seized. She couldn't hear anything but a deadly echoing silence.

"Kent!" She screams not holding back. Camelia pushes the clothing out of her way and crawled out of hiding.

"Stay where you are." Kent replies to her breathlessly. "I'm fine. The bastard got away." He says in disgust. "Son of a bitch!" He roars hearing him banging on what sounded like metal.

Camelia nearly choked at hearing his voice. Thank god. She rocks back and forth like a mentally unstable person, tears of joy streaming down her face. After this ordeal she would need therapy for sure. She was beyond traumatized. It was the scariest time in her life.

Forever changing.

Forever damaging.

*****
Stefan continued to sputter curses, cranking his neck left then right. He flexed his arm and hooked his gun back in its holster after running after the culprit. He shot the bastard in the shoulder but he still got away.

It was a man, dressed entirely in black with a matching black mask covering his entire face except for the cut out holes for the eyes and mouth. Their brief scuttle left his rib cage throbbing, holding his side. Whoever it was punched him very hard.

But Stefan gave as good as he got.

Power was humming through his veins thanks to his heart pumping adrenalin vigorously in his body and his rage and fury was almost blinding when he swung at him with all the strength he could muster. With one punch to the face, he left the man with a broken jaw, likely shattering his teeth in the process. 

Stefan flexed his palm, pain radiating from his knuckles. He checks his fingers, feeling for any broken bones and not finding but his knuckles smeared with blood from his own broken skin.

Afterwards Stefan and the intruder pulled out their guns at the same time. He warned him to put his gun down but the bastard refused not speaking at all. The only communication he received from the masked figure was a slow shake of his head, No.