Chapter 6 - The Shattered Mask“Camila, get back!” Aiden yelled, his eyes darting wildly between her and Lorenzo, his grip on the gun shaking uncontrollably. “Get behind me! He’s a monster! He uses people! He’s going to kill you!”
“Aiden, stop!” Camila cried out, stopping halfway between them, the cold rain soaking through her white blouse instantly. She stared at the man she had shared coffee breaks with, the man who had smiled so warmly at her every morning. “The gun... Aiden, where did you get that gun? What are you talking about? Who are you?”
Aiden’s expression flickered for a fraction of a second—a pathetic, desperate flash of vulnerability before his mask slammed back down.
“I’m the guy who’s going to get us out of here, Cami,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “Just walk toward me. Trust me. We can leave Chicago tonight. I have money. We can start over—”
“She isn't going anywhere with a dead man,” Lorenzo said softly.
Before Aiden could process the words, Lorenzo moved with blinding, unnatural speed.
It wasn't a clumsy rush. It was the calculated strike of a apex predator. In less than a second, Lorenzo closed the remaining ten feet between them. As Aiden’s finger jerked on the trigger, Lorenzo violently slapped the barrel of the gun upward.
Bang!
The gunshot echoed deafeningly off the stone walls of the estate, shattering one of the upper-floor stained-glass windows into a cascade of colorful fragments.
Before Aiden could recover, Lorenzo slammed his heavy fist directly into Aiden’s jaw. The sickening crunch of bone echoed over the sound of the rain. Aiden dropped the revolver, his knees buckling instantly, and he collapsed onto the wet marble floor of the portico, unconscious.
Vince and the other guards moved in immediately, swiftly cuffing Aiden’s hands behind his back and dragging him away toward the lower security wing.
Silence descended upon the courtyard, broken only by the steady hiss of the rain and Camila’s ragged, terrified breathing.
Lorenzo stood motionless over the fallen man for a moment, wiping a stray drop of rain from his cheek. Then, slowly, he turned his dark eyes toward Camila.
She stood frozen, shivering violently, her clothes drenched, her mind reeling from the revelation. The man she thought she knew was an operative. The man she thought was a monster had just saved her life—again.
“You knew,” Camila whispered, her voice trembling as tears mixed with the rain on her cheeks. “From the very beginning. At the hotel. You knew he was watching me.”
Lorenzo walked slowly toward her, his heavy black overcoat soaked, his hair plastered to his forehead. He stopped inches away, reaching out with hands that had just delivered brutal violence, and very gently cupped her cold face.
“I knew someone was leaking information from Sterling & Co.,” Lorenzo said, his voice unusually soft, carrying a depth of raw emotion she had never heard before. “I didn't know it was him until he looked at you with hunger, not love. A man like that doesn't deserve to say your name.”
“I’m just a pastry chef, Lorenzo,” she sobbed softly, the weight of the last twenty-four hours finally breaking her defenses. “I bake cakes. I make people smile with sugar and butter. I don't belong in this war.”
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Lorenzo’s dark eyes softened completely, a rare, breathtaking warmth breaking through his hard exterior. He pulled her flush against his chest, shielding her from the rain with his broad body.
“You were never just a pastry chef, Camila,” he murmured against her wet hair. “You were the only real thing in a world full of ghosts. And now that I’ve found you, I am never letting you go.”
