Chapter Eleven: June

I finally came face to face with him—the man who was behind my kidnapping. Throughout the night, he’d been slipping in and out of the shadows, a ghost at the edge of my vision. But now, there he was, standing in front of me, the look of surprise obvious on his face when our gazes finally locked.

Julia had tried to play matchmaker earlier, but when she asked him to meet me, he refused. After the dance, I thought I’d lost him for good. But there he was, just when I needed him most.

His eyes widened when he saw me approaching, a mixture of shock and something darker crossing his face. "What do you want?" His voice was cold, guarded, but I could tell something inside him was rattled.

I confronted him, every word I spoke laced with the anger I had been holding in for weeks. “You were the one who’s behind my kidnapping, right? Just because you were furious when I rejected your proposal.”

Jackson didn’t respond immediately. His lips curled into a tight, controlled smile, but his eyes—they told another story. Behind the bravado, I saw the guilt, the fear. The man who once seemed so composed now seemed unsure, vulnerable even.

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” he finally muttered, avoiding my gaze. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“Do you really think I would believe you?” I hissed, stepping closer, my voice dripping with suspicion. I didn’t believe him. Not for a second. He could lie all he wanted, but the truth was written all over him. Every part of me was screaming at me to walk away from him—this man who had controlled everything, even my fear. But I was done being afraid.

I took a step closer, narrowing my eyes. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” My words were quiet, but sharp enough to cut through the tension in the room. “You hired those men. You planned the whole thing.”

Jackson flinched, his hand instinctively moving to his side. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something—panic, perhaps—before he masked it with his usual smirk.

“Why would I do that?” he asked, his voice thick with feigned innocence, but I could hear the crack in it.

I laughed bitterly. “Oh, don’t play games with me, Jackson. I know what I saw. I know what you’re capable of.”

For a moment, the balcony was silent. The only sound was the distant music from the party, but it felt miles away. My heart raced, adrenaline pumping through my veins as the weight of everything began to sink in. My hands were clenched into fists at my sides, and I had to force myself to stay calm. If I let my emotions get the best of me now, everything would fall apart.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” I continued, my voice low but steady. “I hated you. I hated you for what you did to me. But now? Now, I want to know why. Why me?”

Jackson's eyes flickered with something—a brief moment of guilt, maybe regret—but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He didn’t speak. He just stood there, watching me with an unreadable expression.

I stepped closer, narrowing the distance between us. “Say something. Admit it. At least show me some sign that you understand what you’ve done.”

Jackson seemed to be struggling with something, his jaw clenched tight. I could see the veins popping in his neck as he swallowed hard. His breathing was erratic now, and I could almost taste his fear in the air between us. He didn’t speak.

Instead, he reached for something at his side. A knife, gleaming under the dim light of the moonlight. The cold steel reflected my face as he pulled it from its sheath. My heart skipped a beat.

“Move any closer, and I’ll make sure you regret it,” Jackson hissed, holding the knife between us, the blade shaking in his hand.

I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t. My body was frozen with the realization of what he might do, but my mind—my mind was already five steps ahead

Before I could push further, the sound of the balcony door crashing open startled us both. A figure emerged from the shadows—Cam, of course. His presence was unmistakable, like a lion entering a den. His icy blue eyes locked on me for a fraction of a second before he turned his full attention to Jackson. “What are you doing?” he demanded, his voice full of authority.

"If you move, I’ll scar her face," he spat, his hand shaking slightly but still determined.

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound cold and mocking. I took a slow step forward, feeling the weight of my anger fueling me. “You think that’s going to scare him?” I taunted, glancing at Cam over my shoulder.

Cam’s eyes darkened, his steps measured but calm as he moved closer. “Alright, I won’t move. But drop the knife, or else,” he said, his tone still controlled, almost eerily calm.

I smirked, taking another step toward Jackson. “You think he’s scared of you?” I pushed, raising an eyebrow. Jackson’s fingers tightened around the knife, but his fear was beginning to show. “You really think you can get away with it?” I challenged, my voice cutting through the tense air.

“You think a knife is going to stop me?” I scoffed, my voice dripping with disdain. “You’re nothing but a coward hiding behind that knife.”

Jackson’s hand shook, but his eyes remained focused on me. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I took another step forward. Every instinct in my body told me to be cautious, to retreat, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me afraid. He wasn’t in control anymore. I was.

Jackson’s grip wavered, and his eyes flickered with doubt. “Don’t come any closer,” he stammered, his breath quickening as he backed away slightly. “I—I know what I did is illegal, but you’re still threatening me.”

I could feel my pulse racing, my adrenaline spiking as I saw his confidence crack. "You’re pathetic," I sneered, the words leaving my lips without a second thought.

Cam’s gaze turned darker, like a storm brewing. “Miss Luper, is this the man who kidnapped you?” he asked, his voice low, dangerous.

I nodded sharply, the anger swelling within me as I stepped forward, closing the distance between me and Jackson. He started to tremble, his breath shallow and panicked. I wasn’t about to let him go without feeling the weight of his actions.

In a swift, fluid motion, I pushed the knife aside with one hand while twisting his wrist, forcing him into a turn. Using my body weight, I shoved him to the ground, pinning him down Before Jackson could regain his composure, The shock on his face was almost comical, but there was no time for that now.

I kicked him, once—twice—each strike harder than the last. I was done with him. Done with his lies.

Jackson’s cries filled the space, weak and desperate. He curled into a ball, clutching his abdomen, his face contorted in pain. The power I felt in that moment was intoxicating.

Cam rushed forward, his hand grabbing me by the arm, pulling me away from Jackson with surprising gentleness. His voice was soft, though there was an edge to it. “Are you okay?” he asked, concern etched deeply into his face.

I smirked, a bit of adrenaline still buzzing in my veins. “You always surprise me,” he teased, but my words were lost in the rush of what had just happened.

Cam’s eyes flickered to Jackson, now groaning on the floor. He stepped forward and grabbed Jackson with one swift motion, hauling him up to his feet. “First of all,” Cam’s voice was low and dangerous, “how dare you touch what’s mine?”

He took a step back, his arm snaking around my waist as he pulled me close. “Look, she’s mine,” he said, his voice steady, “and you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

My body tensed. I wasn’t used to being so close to him, not in this way. I wanted to pull away, to break free, but the way he held me—it was like he wouldn’t let go, not until he knew I was safe. “Let go of me,” I whispered, my voice barely audible as I tried to wriggle free.

But Cam didn’t release me. Instead, his grip tightened, as if shielding me from the world. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “Not yet.”

Cam scooped me up in a bridal carry, his arms strong and steady despite the chaos around us. His voice was low, laced with concern as he whispered in my ear, "What if he uses it against you?"

I forced a laugh, though it felt hollow. "He doesn’t have the guts to do that," I said, trying to sound confident. But even as the words left my mouth, I knew it wasn’t true. The sharp glint of the knife in Jackson’s hand sent a shiver down my spine.

And then, just as I feared, I saw Jackson’s figure moving again. The moment Cam turned slightly to adjust his grip, Jackson lunged, raising the knife in his hand, his face twisted in rage. My heart raced.

"Mr. Watson, can you turn around for a minute, really quick?" I called out, trying to buy us a second. Cam shot me a questioning glance, but with a slight nod, he did as I asked. The next thing I knew, the sharp pain sliced through my thigh.

I gasped, the air rushing from my lungs as my fingers instinctively grabbed onto Cam's blazer, clutching it tightly. My body tensed, but my mind was still racing, trying to process the sudden onslaught of pain.

Cam didn’t hesitate. In a flash, he kicked Jackson hard enough to send him sprawling across the floor, the knife clattering from his hand.

"Think just because you're pretty you can get away with anything?" Jackson coughed, still on the floor, his face contorted in disbelief.

I couldn’t help but smirk, despite the pain. "You should’ve thought about that before trying to stab me," I shot back, my voice laced with venom.

Before Jackson could gather himself, the door open again, and the police burst into the balcony, grabbing Jackson before he had a chance to move again. They quickly slapped the handcuffs on him, and he was dragged away, his protests falling on deaf ears.

Cam, on the other hand, was focused entirely on me. His eyes were a mix of fear, anger, and concern—emotions clashing within him as he checked my injury. I saw the panic in his gaze. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice rough.

I gave him a small, teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood despite the searing pain in my leg. "Oh, come on, it’s nothing compared to you being gentle all night."

He pulled me into a tight hug, and I hissed slightly at the pressure on my injured thigh. "What if it leaves a scar?" he murmured into my hair, his voice gentle but strained.

I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it was hard with the pain and blood seeping through my clothes. Cam didn't wait another moment; he ran out of the room, carrying me in his arms like I weighed nothing. The blood left a dark trail behind us, marking our path through the hall.

As we moved toward the exit, I scanned the room, looking for Harper. She had been there one minute and then gone the next. “Hey, Mr. Watson," I said, my voice weak. "Can you look for Harper? I think she’s hiding because your brother bullied her.”

Cam looked down at me, his voice sharp with frustration. "Is this a joke to you? You're bleeding. You’re hurt." His eyes softened just a little, the concern creeping back into his features as we made our way outside. "We need to get you to a doctor." His grip tightened around me, and I could feel the tremor in his hands.

I tried to stay awake, the weight of the moment threatening to drag me under. "Why is this door so far?" I whispered, the exhaustion from everything hitting me all at once. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe the pain, or maybe the adrenaline was finally wearing off, but I felt like I was slipping.

I rested my head on Cam's chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat a calming rhythm against the chaos. I could feel his muscles tense beneath my touch as he moved quickly, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.

"Mr. Watson," I murmured weakly, though my voice felt like it belonged to someone else. “I’m… I’m so tired.” My words trailed off, my eyelids heavy, my body sinking into the warmth of his embrace.

With each step he took, my world grew blurrier, the pain in my leg becoming a distant throb. “Hold on, June,” Cam whispered, but his voice seemed distant. My last thought before everything faded was how, even in this moment of chaos, being in his arms made me feel safe—something I hadn’t realized I’d needed until now.

The darkness took me over, and with a soft exhale, I drifted into unconsciousness, wrapped in the comfort of Cam’s steady presence.