Camden
I dream of Kendall. I dream of her with her eyes puffy from sleep, with her nightie bunched up, how she writhes beneath me. I dream of her in that little bikini she wore at the safe house, looking up at me with wide brown eyes.
I remember hitting Marco, beating him so thoroughly that his face was unrecognizable. I remember Angelo’s pale, drawn face as I looked up at him. I don’t remember being hurt. I don’t know where I am when I open my eyes, looking up at the ceiling.
“Camden?”
someone says, some sweet voice that I know deep in my heart, and I look over to see Kendall staring at me with wide brown eyes.
“Oh my god, he’s waking up,” she chokes, and I reach out for her and there’s a stab of pain in my chest that makes my breath hitch in my throat.
“Principessa,” I choke out,
