Camilla looked behind her for the third ti. She wasn’t stupid—she knew she was being followed. She didn’t know who it was, but it all started the day after she’d been captured by Kieran Blackwood.
Just thinking about him made her grit her teeth.
And before you ask—no, she hadn’t reported it. She was a reporter herself, but no one would believe her. Not about him. Kieran Blackwood, CEO of Blackwood Enterprise. The most charming man in the country. Carefree. Handso. The kind of guy people thought wouldn’t hurt a fly.
But she knew better.
She used to believe it, too. Until she saw sothing darker under the surface. Most n could be possessive, sure. But Kieran? He was sothing else entirely. Obsessive. Controlling. And she had the gut feeling that whatever he’d done to her wasn’t the first ti.
He wasn’t what he seed. Not even close.
Camilla had planned to dig deeper—but life got in the way. Ever since the trial of Zay Blaze, the chart-topping rapper turned controversial entrepreneur, kicked off in federal court, her schedule had been a ss. And since federal courts didn’t allow caras, she had to physically be there every single day to get the details firsthand.
She was running herself ragged—scribbling notes in court, rushing out to record summary videos for her channel, filming TikToks in the back of Ubers, breaking down testimony and the latest bombshells. The public was hooked on the trial, and she’d beco their favorite guide through the chaos.
And that was just half of it. She still had her regular TV segnts to prepare—on-cara reporting for her station, where she’d been specifically assigned to cover the trial. One of the few reporters allowed into the courtroom because of her experience—and her knack for keeping viewers glued to the screen.
So between court, editing, going live, answering producers’ calls, and keeping her online followers updated, she barely had ti to sleep.
Let alone deal with the nightmare that was Kieran Blackwood.
But that didn’t an she’d forgotten.
A chill swept over her, snapping her out of her thoughts. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
She glanced behind her again. Nothing.
Still, the unease didn’t fade.
And then—she saw him.
A man, standing just a few feet away. Silent. Still.
Wearing a creepy clown mask.
Her eyes widened.
You’d think she’d scream. Or run. But she didn’t. Camilla stood frozen, feet glued to the sidewalk.
If there was one thing in the world that terrified her most—it was clowns.
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Her breath caught in her throat as he stepped closer.
He was holding a knife.
And just as the masked man raised his arm—
Crack!
A blur of motion shot past her.
The sound of a punch echoed down the street as the man in the clown mask staggered backward. Camilla blinked, heart pounding, as the figure slamd into a parked car.
She hadn’t even seen who hit him.
But whoever it was, they didn’t stop.
The stranger lunged forward, drove a knee into the clown’s gut, then grabbed him by the collar and slamd him to the pavent with bone-jarring force.
Punch after punch landed—fast, brutal, and controlled. The knife slipped from the clown’s hand and skittered across the sidewalk.
The man tried to crawl away, groaning.
The stranger kicked him hard in the side, pinning him down.
One more hit. Then another.
The mask cracked. Blood splattered.
Camilla’s heart thudded against her ribs as her limbs slowly thawed. She stumbled back a step, eyes locked on her savior.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Hoodie pulled low over his face.
He turned slightly, just enough for the streetlight to catch his jawline.
Her stomach dropped.
That gangster.
The clown tried to use the mont to escape. He staggered to his feet and took off down the street.
Leo turned to chase after him, rage burning in his eyes.
He hadn’t planned to let the guy live.
But Camilla lurched forward. "Stop!" she cried, grabbing the hem of his hoodie.
He turned sharply, surprised.
They stared at each other, breathing hard.
Camilla’s chest heaved with shallow breaths, her fingers still clutching his hoodie.
Leo’s eyes swept her face. Then, without warning, he reached out, grabbed her jaw, and tilted her face up.
And in the next second, she slumped forward.
He caught her before she hit the ground.
"Shit," he muttered, cursing under his breath.
Later...
Camilla opened her eyes, only to squint shut again as a beam of bright light hit her face.
Where was she?
She slowly blinked again, head pounding. She didn’t rember getting ho.
She sat up too fast, heart thudding—until she heard rustling nearby.
She looked around.
And then she realized...
She was ho.
But then—a sound ca from the kitchen. And she lived alone.
She looked around, heart racing, and grabbed the closest thing to her—which, for so reason, was a baseball bat. Gripping it tightly, she crept toward the kitchen.
She pushed the door open slowly... and froze.
A tall figure stood in front of the gas cooker.
She didn’t wait to see who it was. Instinct kicked in. She rushed forward and swung the bat straight at his head—
But he turned just in ti and caught it mid-air.
She gasped.
It was him.
That gangster.
He yanked the bat from her grip, and she stumbled back in shock.
"What are you doing here?" she snapped. "Are you stalking ?"
Sniper stared down at her, his gaze unreadable.
Then she answered herself in a dry, deadpan voice. "Yes."
Reviews
All reviews (0)