The Man he is

Camila's POV

The sun has not yet filtered through my blinds, but I was already awake, staring at the ceiling and was short of words

My body still reminiscing of his touch and kiss.

I sat up slowly, The ache in my heart was more than a physical pain. No calls. No texts. Just... emptiness. Like I was a moment he already forgot.

I got dressed for work in a swift mode, putting on a black flair skirt and pants host , and a minimal make up, my movement was stiff, sluggish and soulless Even Ariana's voice note was left unopened.

I needed to move.

I needed to breathe.

So I stepped outside and decided not to take the shorter route,I passed by a pastry shop where the scent of the doughs comforted my soul. not today, I didn't want to take a bus I wanted to walk with my AirPod on feeling the breeze on my skin.

As I turned the corner, I nearly jumped back.

A girl—barefoot, her clothes ripped at the shoulder—stumbled toward me. Her eyes wide, body trembling like a leaf in the wind. She looked around frantically, then locked onto me like I was her last chance.

"Please," she cried out, voice cracked, "please don't let them take me back. They—they're going to sell us—"

I froze, instinct kicking in.

I reached for my phone, hand trembling, opening the dial pad. "I'm calling the police, don't worry, just stay here—"

But I never got to press the call.

A hand gripped my waist so tightly it knocked the air from my lungs. Another clamped over my mouth, and I was yanked backward into the shadows.

My phone hit the ground.

I screamed—but it was muffled.

The man behind me was strong, his breath smelled of tobacco and violence. I kicked, scratched, begged through my eyes—but then something sharp pressed against my neck, and a cloth covered my mouth.

Sweet.

Sickly.

Drugs.

The world blurred. My vision dimmed. My heartbeat slowed.

And then—darkness.

Jayden's POV

I stood by the black van as the last of the girls was shoved inside—14 in total. Bound, blindfolded, and silent.

Except the new one.

The blonde one.

She was different.

Too pretty. Too wild.

Too dangerous.

I took out my phone and called the boss.

"Alessandro. They're ready."

"How many?"

"Fourteen," I said, checking the list. "Enough to select from. Most of 'em young. Quiet. One… might be a problem."

"You know I'm picky," he said, voice sharp as ever. "I expected more."

"She's different, boss. I think you'll want to see her first."

There was a pause.

"Cover their faces. Tie them tighter. I'm on my way."

"Yes, sir."

I stared at the last girl again—unconscious, but still radiating fire.

I didn't know her name.

But something told me Alessandro would.

And that this time… we might've crossed a line we couldn't come back from.

Camila's POV

The world returned slowly.

A pulsing ache throbbed behind my eyes, and my limbs felt heavy—like I'd been asleep for a year. I tried to lift my head, but it rolled uselessly to the side, hitting something cold.

Metal.

The floor.

My wrists were bound. My mouth—taped. My ankles, sore and swollen.

I was trapped.

My heartbeat surged to my ears, panic clawing through my chest like fire. It was dark—too dark—but not silent. Muffled whimpers, crying, chains clinking. And breathing. Heavy, broken breathing.

I wasn't alone.

I blinked rapidly, adjusting to the dim light pouring in from a small barred window. That's when I saw them.

Girls. Dozens. Tied, gagged, slumped in corners or curled on the dirty floor. Most too weak to move. A few were awake—terrified.

And then it hit me.

This was real.

I screamed into the tape, thrashing wildly, heart racing. I kicked, I rolled, I fought against the restraints until the skin on my wrists burned raw.

Someone came close.

A guard. His boots heavy, steps cruel.

"You're awake," he muttered. "Thought you'd be out longer, pretty girl."

He crouched in front of me, smirking.

"Behave," he whispered, "or I'll make sure you're the first one they pick."

I stared him down with fury blazing in my veins. I might've been tied. I might've been drugged. But I wasn't broken.

He reached for me—and I bit down hard on his hand through the gag.

He cursed and slapped me, hard enough to blur my vision again. But I didn't care. I wasn't giving in without a fight.

They could tie me.

They could gag me.

But they wouldn't kill the fire in me.

Alessandro's POV

The warehouse smelled like sweat, fear, and rotting iron.

Jayden walked beside me, clipboard in hand. "They're all in. Quiet, like you asked. Some are still sedated. Room two's got the fresh catch."

I didn't respond.

I was already halfway to the door.

It opened with a loud metallic clank, and I stepped inside—expression blank, heart steady. This was business. Cold. Clean. Ruthless.

Until I saw her.

A blur of golden hair in the far corner.

Bound.

Gagged.

Bleeding.

Thrashing like a caged animal.

Something inside me twisted.

No.

No, it can't be—

I stepped closer, ignoring Jayden's voice behind me.

She looked up.

Blue eyes. Wild. Dazed.

Familiar.

Camila.

My breath caught in my throat.

She saw me.

Her panic stilled—for half a second—then exploded again. Her body fought harder, a scream muffled behind the tape. Tears welled up as she struggled to reach me. Or maybe get away from me.

She thought I brought her here.

I couldn't move.

Couldn't speak.

All I could see was her face—her—in this hell I helped create.

And I realized, too late, that I had just broken the only thing that ever felt real.

My fists clenched the moment I saw the red print on her cheek.

Who the fuck touched her?

Camila's wrists were torn, skin raw from the ropes. Her blouse was ripped at the hem, and her knees were scraped. And still—still—she looked at me like I was the monster.

Maybe I was.

"Take off the gag," I barked.

Jayden hesitated, caught off guard by my voice—hard, sharper than he'd ever heard.

"I said, take it off!"

Jayden moved quickly, yanking the tape from her mouth. Camila gasped, coughing as the air hit her lungs. Her lips were cracked. Her eyes bloodshot. But her fire hadn't died.

"Don't touch me!" she spat, chest heaving. "Don't you dare touch me!"

"I didn't know—" I started, but my words felt hollow.

"You brought me here," she hissed. "You. You did this."

She turned her head sharply, as if looking at me hurt more than the bruises.

That's when I saw the guard from earlier—the smug one, standing off to the side, watching like he wasn't about to die.

"Was it you?" I growled, walking toward him.

He didn't answer.

But Camila did.

"He slapped me when I bit him," she said, voice shaky.

That was all I needed.

I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the metal wall so hard the sound echoed across the warehouse. He gasped, stunned, before I landed a fist into his jaw—then another. And another.

"You hit her?" I seethed, my knuckles bleeding now. "You think I'd let that slide?"

Blood ran down the guard's nose as he slumped to the ground, moaning.

"Get him out of here," I growled at one of the others. "Before I kill him."

Jayden watched in stunned silence, frozen.

"You knew she was taken?" I turned to him, voice low and cold.

Jayden blinked, confused. "Boss, I didn't—I swear I didn't know it was her. She was just part of the street pick-up. You said fourteen—"

"I said girls, Jayden. Not Camila."

He stepped back. "I'm sorry. I didn't know she meant something to you."

"She doesn't," I snapped instinctively, but the words didn't even sound real.

Jayden's brows raised. "Then why the hell are you acting like this?"

Because she's not like the others. Because she feels like the only real thing I've touched in years. Because the thought of her rotting in this place under my name makes me want to burn the whole operation to the ground.

"Get her out of here. Now," I said, my voice hoarse. "Put her in my car. No one lays a fucking finger on her."

Jayden nodded slowly, eyes narrowing with suspicion. "You gonna tell her what you are?"

I glanced back at her—Camila curled into herself now, but still watching me. Her chest rising and falling too fast. Her eyes glassy but sharp.

She didn't need me to say it.

She already knew.

The warehouse was thick with silence, the kind that comes after blood is spilled and truths start to rot.

Jayden stood stiff beside me, still stunned by my reaction to Camila. He should be. I'd never let my emotions interfere. Not once.

Until now.

I scanned the terrified girls lined up like broken dolls—some awake, some half-conscious. None of them should've ended up here. Not this way.

But this was the world I built.

And I had no intention of tearing it down.

"Pick five," I said coldly, voice devoid of warmth. "Young, clean. The ones that won't scream too much."

Jayden swallowed hard. "For the Colombian?"

I nodded. "Tell him his food is ready."

"Yes, boss."

I turned my back before I could catch the look in any of their eyes. Compassion would only ruin me more.

I headed out—rage pumping through my veins—straight to the car where she waited.

Camila.

Wounded. Betrayed. And probably planning to run.

And I was right.

She was already halfway out the car, her hand on the door handle, her legs shaky, ready to bolt despite the pain.

I reached her in two long strides and grabbed her arm harshly, dragging her back into the seat like a wild thing that belonged to me.

She screamed, shoved at my chest, her fists weak but desperate.

"Let me go!" she cried, voice cracking. "You're a monster!"