Page 108 of Bloodlust

"Luck doesn't exist, remember?" I suck in a deepbreath, the tight vest constricting airflow. "There's only destiny."

"I'll be listening," Hayden says. "Go."

"Relax, Cami," Zoey says, smiling at me. "We got this." She looks at her tense brother. "We got you."

"Do you have the—" Zoey nods before I can even ask. She's prepared. We're all prepared. "Okay, let's go."

With Zoey on my left and Leo on my right, we walk toward the loading bay to meet Frankie and his foot soldiers.

"Act natural," Leo whispers as we approach the four blacked out SUVs.

"Me?" I hiss back. "You're the one who looks like they're about to cry."

"Guys," Zoey says through gritted teeth as Frankie comes into view. "Not now."

"Strange spot you picked here," Frankie notes, eyebrow raised as he scans the deserted loading dock. "Why didn't we meet at the club?"

My gaze hardens. "Because those guys—" I point to the eight men armed with pistols, "—might draw some unwanted attention." I motion around the lot. "This place is closed for renos, courtesy of the director."

"Right," Frankie hums nonchalantly as he opens the trunk of the SUV, various revolvers and guns spread on the velvet fabric. I glance at the four duffle bags stuffed in the right corner. They better frisk us. I'm counting on it. "What will it be, Cami?"

"Let's play a little homage tonight," I say, picking up the Beretta and cocking the pistol before stuffing it into my pants. "My grandfather's favorite according to Dad."

"Good choice.” Frankie smiles as Leo and Zoey select their weapons. Frankie opens the passenger door for me as Leo and Zoe hop in the back. Once inside, Frankie starts the car, reaching for the walkie-talkie. "Take different streets. We don't need a show getting there."

"And drive the fucking speed limit," I add, picking up the receiver. "If you get clipped, you're out." I release the hold button, glancing at Frankie as he begins to drive to the port. "As we discussed, only Leo and Zoey will come with me inside. You and your men will stand guard with the cars running, got it?"

"You should take a couple more, princess," Frankie notes, tapping the steering wheel. "Just in case."

"It is imperative that you go alone, Camilla," Hayden's voice fills my ears. "Otherwise, it'll be a bloodbath. Alone, understand? Alone."

"If I bring an army, it'll look bad," I say as I recline into the seat. "Just be ready, Frankie. That's your only job."

"Whatever you say," Frankie states, turning on a side street. "You're the boss."

"They trust you," Hayden notes in a low tone. "Everything will be fine, Camilla." He pauses. "You can unclench your fist."

I roll my eyes as I relax my muscles.

Asshole.

We drive in silence for several minutes before the four SUVs convoy into one, each car slowly trailing the other as the gates to the port creep open and we drive through. A man dressed in camouflage flags down Frankie, directing him toward the far end of the docks.

Frankie narrows his eyes, scanning the dark surroundings. "How many men does Alba have with him?"

"Enough," I state, breath quickening as we pull up near a shipping container, dozens of armed men stationed around the entrance. I spot Wei Zhao and Hazel hopping out of his Hummer. "Dragons are here." I watch as Zhao and Hazel are frisked, a couple of guns confiscated from their person’s. Zhao tries to argue but gives up quickly. Game face. "Shit. They're going to pat us."

"Alba's probably worried you'll shoot another one of his men," Leo teases, attempting to lighten the energy in the SUV. Frankie clicks his tongue. "What? I thought that was funny."

"Get out," Frankie grunts, and we all exit the vehicle. He rounds the car, popping open the truck before returning with the duffle bags. He hands them to Leo, glaring at him. "They're heavy."

"It's fifteen million dollars, Franks," Leo grins, playing his part. "Shouldn't be light."

"Let's go," I state, keeping my head up high as I march toward the large shipping containers, stopping in front of Alba's goons. "Evening."

"Arms up," the soldier at the door demands, expression flat. "No guns inside."

"Why?" I ask, cocking my head. "Your boss worried I'll shoot his tiny little dick off?"