SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

CAMILLE'S POINT OF VIEW

The parking garage of the hotel where i lodged was too quiet. My heels echoed against concrete, each click bouncing off empty cars and shadowed pillars. It was late, past midnight, but something felt wrong. Off.

My confrontation with Rose and my family had left me drained, empty except for the cold satisfaction of finally seeing behind her mask. I fumbled with my key fob, wanting nothing more than to get to my hotel room and plan my next move.

A car door slammed somewhere in the darkness.

I stopped, listening. Nothing but the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of traffic.

My phone buzzed in my purse. Rose's number. I declined it, but not before noticing my signal had dropped to one bar.

Perfect.

Footsteps behind me. Multiple sets.

I walked faster, cursing my choice of heels. The hotel's elevator was just around

the corner, past a row of concrete pillars. If I could just...

"Going somewhere, Mrs. Rodriguez?"

A man stepped out from behind a pillar. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in black. Professional. Two more appeared behind me, cutting off my retreat.

Not a random attack, then.

racing heart. "And I

nice smile. "I'm afraid

pepper spray I'd started carrying after signing the divorce papers. "Did my sister send you? Or was it

remain anonymous." He stepped closer.

let him finish. The pepper spray caught him directly in

off my heels as I sprinted for the elevator. The other two men shouted, their footsteps thundering behind

there. Just

in my scalp as someone grabbed my hair, yanking me

first man's voice was rough with pain and rage.

I fought, kicking,

The first man wiped

shot, making sure I understood just how powerless

I spat, "at least have the guts

reminder of what happens to people who don't know when to let

stomach, driving the air from my lungs. I

role in life." Another blow, this one to my ribs. "Some people

blood. My vision blurred, pain shooting through my body. But I wouldn't cry. Wouldn't give Rose the

"That's enough."

voice cut through the garage like a whip

figures emerging from the shadows. Men in suits, moving with military precision.

woman. Tall, elegant, probably in her fifties but with an ageless

wore a black designer suit that probably cost more than my car, her silver hair swept into

her eyes that caught me.

my attackers started, "our

a very bad day." The

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