QUEEN OF ASHES

Ashes of Crown

Chapter 6

The warehouse echoed with the report of the shot. Smoke curled and tempted around the air, intertwining itself with the metallic aroma of blood and gunpowder. Camila's ears throbbed as though the world had split open. One second of silence.

Xavier stumbled back, his white shirt blossoming red across the shoulder. His men were flaring into anarchy—guns raised, eyes wild, fingers trembling on triggers. Rafael was lying on the ground, blood forming a dark pool around his head. Death's odor clung like a promise.

Camila picked up Rafael's fallen gun, her own heart pounding in her ears. Matthew sat opposite her, his gun still firm, his gaze unyielding. The three of them—Camila, Xavier, and Matthew—standing in a triangle of hate, betrayal, and shattered promises.

"You're bleeding out, Xavier," Matthew warned him icily. "Walk away before I make sure you don't leave this dock alive."

Xavier's anger curled his lips into a smile as blood trickled down his arm. "Shall one bullet reduce yours to knees, Malvado? You should know better than that. You've always had too much heart for what must be done."

The anger was bait, and Matthew did not rise. His eyes flashed once in Camila's direction, hard and unreadable. "Get in line, Camila," he snarled. "Here. Now. Him or freedom.".

Her breath caught. She kept her gun raised, trembling only slightly. She could end Xavier’s reign of terror in a single pull. End the lies. End the humiliation. But the weight of years—the kisses, the whispers, the illusions of love—pressed down like shackles. And Xavier knew it.

“Do it, querida,” Xavier taunted, his dark gaze burning into hers. “Prove to me you’ve changed. Prove you’re not still my wife.”

Wife. The word was hollow now, sullied by Rafael's tidings that her union had been no more than a sham document. A lie. A cell.

Her finger squeezed the trigger tighter—

Then chaos was let loose.

One of Xavier's men pulled first. The bullet whizzed past Camila's ear, into a steel beam. Matthew fell and fired, bullets shredding the warehouse in flashes of muzzle. Guards dissipated, some dropping, others coming forward. Camila huddled low, her heart pounding, her back against hard concrete. She edged to Rafael's fallen body, reason wrestling with instinct.

"Rafael!" she gasped bitterly, her shaking hand trailing his neck. A faint pulse. Weak but present. Elation flared like a flame through her veins. He wasn't dead. Yet.

But Xavier observed. "Leave him, Camila!" he roared, his authoritative voice cutting through the gunfire. "He's nothing! He's garbage!"

Camila didn't catch him. She dragged Rafael's body inch by slow inch into the cover. Bullets snapped above her head, Matthew's answering fire responded to the guards. Blood stained her hands. Every movement was agony, but she would not let go of him. Not again. Not another name on Xavier's ledger.

And then—abruptly—silence. Guns fell quiet as suddenly as they began. The only sounds were Xavier's wheezing breath and Rafael's choking gasps.

Xavier stood among the wreckage, his shirt splattered with blood, his pistol still level with iron determination. His men had retreated, standing at the edges, expecting him to give them the signal. His eyes, locked and unfeeling, were riveted on Camila.

"Look at you," he whispered, his tone gentle but menacing. "dragging around a traitor. Protecting him. Betraying me. Again."

Camila rose slowly, gun in hand, her body shielding Rafael's dead form. Sweat glued her hair to her face, but steel shone in her eyes. "You betrayed me first," she spat. "You made a fool of me. You tried to kill me. You manipulated me."

Xavier stepped forward, ignoring the blood seeping through his fingers. "I made you, Camila. You were nothing without me. A Torres princess hiding behind her father's name. I gave you power. I gave you a crown."

"You gave me a cage," she snarled.

Matthew had stepped up beside her now, gun still at the ready. "And she's free of it now, Xavier. It's over."

But Xavier only laughed. A dry, hollow laugh. "Over? No, Matthew. You don't understand. Camila and I—" His eyes burned hers. "We are similar. She won't abandon me. She never will.".

Camila's hand shook. The weight of his words, the venom, tried to penetrate her marrow. And then she remembered the marble floor, her own body broken and in pieces while he took off toward Valentina. She remembered Nina's push, Riley's plotting, the forged marriage certificate. She remembered Rafael's gentle truth: You were never Mrs. De Luca.

Something inside of her shattered.

No, Xavier," she told him, her voice icy. "I'm not yours. And I never was."

Her finger on the trigger.

The gunshot rang out through the air. Xavier stumbled back, the bullet skimming across his ribs. His men charged in anger, but he held up a hand to stop them, his face contorted in rage and something else. Darker. Obsession.

“You’ll regret this,” he hissed, clutching his side. “You’ll beg to come back before the end.” His gaze flicked once to Rafael’s bleeding body, then back to her. A silent promise of retribution. Then, with a sharp gesture, he signaled his men. They withdrew into the shadows, disappearing as quickly as they had come.

The warehouse was silent once more. Only the echo of Xavier’s threat remained.

Camila's rifle slipped from her fingers. Her chest heaved, her nerves shrieking. Matthew caught her when she swayed, holding her close against him in a hard hold. "He's gone," he breathed. "For now."

Her eyes flicked to Rafael, who was still breathing, still clinging to life. "We have to get him out of here," she breathed. "Now.".

They hauled Rafael up together, his heft heavy between them. Each step was agony, but they got him out of the warehouse, into salt-scented, greasy night air. Mara's car skidded to a stop outside, headlights shining into the darkness. She leapt out, face contorted in horror. "What happened?!"

"No time," Camila snarled. "Get him to the safehouse. Now."

Mara did not argue. She pushed open the door, and they both forced Rafael in. His blood covered the seats, his breathing strained. Camila climbed in behind him, pressing down on the wound. Her hands shook but did not leave his face.

As the car sped away, Matthew said nothing across from her, his eyes hard and calculating. Finally, he spoke. "You had your chance to kill him tonight. Why didn't you?"

Camila did not look up. Her voice was soft, slow, and full of flame. "Because Xavier Torres does not deserve to die clean. He deserves to be broken. As he tried to break me."

Matthew studied her for a long moment, then gave a faint, approving nod. “Good. Because that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

The city lights blurred past the windows. Camila leaned back, exhaustion pressing heavy on her bones, but her mind was sharper than ever. Xavier was still alive. But so was she. And for the first time, she wasn’t afraid.

She was ready for war.

---

Hours later, Camila stood alone on the balcony of the safehouse. The evening was heavy with silence, the city lying below her like a thousand glistening falsehoods. Her hands ached still with Rafael's blood, her lungs still heaved with the aftereffects of battle. She closed her eyes, letting the wind whip her hair against her skin.

Behind her, the door slid open. Matthew stepped out, his presence quiet but unignorable. “Rafael will live,” he said. “For now. The doctor’s patching him up. But Xavier won’t stay quiet. He’ll strike back soon.”

Camila’s grip tightened on the railing. “Let him. I’ll be ready.”

Matthew studied her in the dim light. “You’ve changed, Camila. The girl who once loved Xavier is gone.”

She whirled, eyes burning. "No. She's not dead. She's ashes. And out of ashes, queens are forged."

Matthew was still trying to say something when Mara burst into the room, out of breath, holding a shaking phone in her hand. "Camila—" she gasped. "Your father. He's gone missing."

The room reeled. Her lungs ceased functioning. "What?

Mara's eyes were pale, her voice breaking. "The Torres estate was attacked. Your father's men are dead. And he's missing."

There was no strength left in Camila's legs, and she clung to the railing with both hands, her knuckles whitening. Fury, grief, and terror swept over her in a tidal wave. Every time, it was always him. Xavier.

Her voice, when she spoke, was hard as a knife and firm. "Then this is no longer war." She looked up to the city below, to the blood-and-betrayal empire that had risen upon its ashes. "This is destruction."

And in this moment, Camila Torres ceased being a victim. She was something else entirely.

Something Xavier had never dreamed.

The Queen of Ashes.