Page 161 of Dissolving Prejudice

I reached to take the gun from him when I saw his bloodied knuckles. He’d probably hurt himself while fighting all those men. My forehead creased in concern, and I coughed to clear my throat. “Are your hands okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice soft.

After I took the gun from him, I glanced up to find him looking at me, and the love in his eyes made me uncomfortable.

Why? Because I would have never risked my life for him, and yet here he was, doing that for me. However, maybe he didn’t do it for love but to make amends for his past mistakes. Either way, it didn’t matter at the moment as we were running out of time.

“We better move,” I said and was ready to go when a new man came down the stairs. Only this dude didn’t look like the others. Built like a freaking lineman, this giant of a man walked toward us, his face almost as ugly as his clothes.

“Stop, or I will shoot,” I warned with the gun raised, only the fucker didn’t listen and instead continued to walk toward us. Biting my lips, I gripped the gun, then threw it at him, only this motherfucker knew how to bend in time, and he dodged the damn gun.

“Seriously?” Jordan hissed.

“What? It worked the first time,” I nervously bit back.

I swore the ground shook with each step this giant took, and feeling sweat gathering at my lower back, I held my fist high, ready to fight, when Jordan pushed me behind him. Next thing I knew, Jordan charged at him, only it didn’t go as smoothly as it went with the others, and with every punch Jordan threw at this man, he got one back, twice as hard. But he didn’t fall, neither did he give up, and instead, he fought back. Like a lion, with blood pouring down his face and gritted teeth, Jordan held back this mountain of a man.

“Go find him!” Jordan shouted in between punches.

My stomach turned with the thought of leaving him behind, especially after he was just tossed at the wall like a piece of meat, but I swallowed back the feeling and moved my ass.

I was always an ungrateful bastard, and Jordan knew what he signed up for when he agreed to help me. So even though I didn’t want Jordan to die, I was more anxious about reaching Camilo on time, which I had a strong feeling we were running out of.

With my heart in my throat, I ran up the stairs, my pulse so high that blood pounded in my ears. The wood underneath my shoes cracked with each step until I reached a long hall. Not wasting another minute, I ran down until reaching a metal door at the end of it. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the handle and slammed the door open, ready to face whatever was lurking inside.

Shay-Lee

The first sight I saw when I opened the door was someone’s back. Not just someone but Dion. Wearing a pair of tailored pants and a tight dress shirt, for a brief second, he reminded me of my father, who always looked neat, no matter the situation. Fear clenched in my throat with the comparison, and I held still in the doorway. But once Dion turned to face me and I caught a glimpse of Camilo tied to a chair behind him, reality flew back in.

A wave of nausea swept over me, thick with horror at the sight of Camilo’s face, which was hardly recognizable. Swollen and bloodied, his handsome face was beaten and carved with a knife. Not just his face but the rest of him, too. Tied shirtless, his tortured body was covered with sweat, his skin pale, full of purple bruises and dried blood.

Excruciating pain twisted my insides as a string of tears blurred my vision. But despite the fear nipping at the back of my mind, I ignored the urge to fall apart and instead dashed toward Camilo. He was almost in my arms when Dion moved to step in the way.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He grinned, his body blocking the passage to Camilo.

“Move!” I growled, glancing behind his stupid body. “Camilo, baby, it’s me,” I shouted, desperate for him to look at me—only he didn’t. His head was flopped down, his eyes closed, and his lips parted. The horrible thought that I might have arrived too late surrounded me like a moonless night as I blinked rapidly, trying to push back the tears.

I can’t break down. Not now.

With all my power, I shoved Dion out of my way before I knelt by Camilo’s legs, my body shivering as I reached out a hand to clean his face of blood.

Horrified to find how cold his skin was at first touch, my breath shuddered.

“What have they done to you?” I cried, moving my hand along his bruised jaw. “Open your eyes, baby, please.”

Camilo’s body shifted just a bit before he leaned into my touch. I gasped with relief, holding on to this drop of light in a sea of darkness. He’s alive. He was hurt, badly, but he was alive, and that was what I’d focus on. Quickly, I got up to my feet and rounded the metal chair to untie him. But as I moved down to unfold the knots around his wrist, I noticed his left hand was clearly broken, judging by how misshapen it was. My throat dried up, and I bit down on my tongue, fighting the urge to snap before getting to my knees so I’d be able to set him free.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dion tsked.

Ignoring him, I set my full attention on the tight knot and the ropes that cut into Camilo’s skin. The thought of him being here, treated like a punching bag, churned my stomach. I wanted to get him out of those ropes fast, but the second I tried untying them, I touched his injured hand, and he screamed. He screamed so hard the grave voice scared me, and I immediately froze.

Nervous, my chest rose and fell with my heaving breaths while I tried processing what to do. Maybe if I’d cut those ropes—

“You’re wasting your time,” Dion said as I looked around the room.

“What?” I hissed back.

He smiled down at me, his eyes full of malice. “Mon péché, if you think I’ll just let you release him and get out of here, then you are as stupid as you are beautiful.”