4
691 Words
That landed.
⸻
Camilla turned to leave.
But she felt it.
⸻
The shift.
The line she’d just crossed.
⸻
And more than that—
She felt him still watching her.
Not like a boss.
Not like an evaluator.
⸻
Like someone who had already decided she mattered.
⸻
Her pulse picked up slightly as she reached the door.
Not fear.
Not entirely.
⸻
Something sharper.
More dangerous.
⸻
Because Hayes O’Rourke didn’t just recognize power.
⸻
He responded to it.
⸻
And Camilla had just made herself impossible to ignore.
Camilla hadn’t made it to the door.
Her hand had just brushed the handle when Liam’s voice cut across the room.
⸻
“Boss.”
⸻
She paused.
Not turning yet.
Not leaving either.
⸻
Liam O’Rourke stepped forward slightly, attention shifting from her to Hayes—but not fully dismissing her presence.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “Louisiana.”
A beat.
“Still happening?”
⸻
Behind her, she felt it.
That shift in the room.
Subtle.
But sharp.
⸻
Hayes O’Rourke didn’t answer immediately.
Which meant he was thinking.
Calculating.
Adjusting.
⸻
“Yes,” Hayes said finally.
⸻
Camilla’s fingers tightened slightly on the door handle.
Not enough to show.
Enough to feel.
⸻
Louisiana.
⸻
Liam nodded once.
Then his gaze flicked—deliberately—to her.
⸻
“And her?” he asked.
No attempt to lower his voice.
No attempt to soften it.
⸻
Camilla turned slowly then.
Not defensive.
Not reactive.
Just… present.
⸻
Liam watched her like he was measuring something that hadn’t fully settled yet.
“She’s from there,” he continued. “New Orleans.”
A pause.
“Knows the ground better than we do.”
⸻
Hayes’ gaze shifted back to Camilla.
Not casual.
Not light.
⸻
Focused.
“Is that true?” he asked.
⸻
Camilla met his eyes.
“It is.”
⸻
Silence followed.
But it wasn’t empty.
It was loaded.
⸻
Because this wasn’t about geography.
It was about history.
Connections.
Risk.
⸻
“Left a year ago,” Hayes said.
Again—not a question.
⸻
“Yes.”
⸻
“No contact maintained.”
⸻
“No.”
⸻
Liam’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“That’s convenient.”
⸻
Camilla didn’t react.
“Or intentional.”
That earned her another flicker of interest from Hayes.
⸻
“Why leave?” Liam pressed.
⸻
That question again.
⸻
Camilla held his gaze this time.
Not Hayes’.
Liam’s.
⸻
“Because staying would’ve made me predictable,” she said.
A pause.
“And predictable gets you owned.”
⸻
The room went quiet again.
⸻
Hayes watched her carefully.
Not just listening.
Reading.
⸻
“Or killed,” he added.
⸻
Camilla didn’t look away.
“Sometimes both.”
⸻
Liam let out a low breath.
“Fair enough.”
⸻
Another beat passed.
Then—
He looked back at Hayes.
⸻
“She’s either an asset,” Liam said, “or a liability.”
A pause.
“No middle ground on this one.”
Camilla didn’t interrupt.
Didn’t defend herself.
⸻
Because she already knew that.
⸻
Hayes stepped forward again.
Not as close as before.
But closer than necessary.
⸻
“Which one are you?” he asked quietly.
⸻
Camilla didn’t hesitate.
⸻
“That depends,” she said.
On anyone else, it would’ve sounded like deflection.
On her—
It sounded like precision.
⸻
“On what?” Hayes asked.
⸻
Camilla’s gaze didn’t waver.
“On whether you trust your ability to control the situation.”
⸻
That landed.
⸻
Not as a challenge.
As truth.
Liam huffed slightly under his breath.
“She’s good,” he muttered.
⸻
Hayes didn’t respond to that.
His attention stayed exactly where it had been.
⸻
On her.
⸻
“You’d go back?” he asked.
There it was.
The real question.
⸻
Not about skill.
Not about knowledge.
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About willingness.
⸻
Camilla’s chest tightened—just slightly.
Barely noticeable.
⸻
New Orleans wasn’t just a place.
It was history.
It was family.
It was everything she had deliberately walked away from.
- Writer
