Henri LeVieux responds to public warrant issued against elusive son Blaise.
If you think your loved one has psychopathy, look for these four signs.
Chloe tagged along behind Noah as he frantically packed his things and headed out to his car. "I don't think you're thinking straight. I know you care about him, but the probability is that he wasn't even near the attack."
"It doesn't matter how near or far he was," Noah replied, plunging his hand into his coat pocket in search of the key fob. "If this mystery man is the person I think he is, Camille isn't safe anywhere in the vicinity. I'm scared the attack was intentional, directing attention to a different place than his primary target." Noah pushed down on the unlock button and yanked the driver's door open. "I have to make sure Camille's okay." He looked back at Chloe, who he had never seen so concerned for him. "Can you take care of everything here? I'll try to keep you updated so you don't worry, okay?"
Chloe smiled tightly. "Yeah, I got things here. Don't stress about it. Go make sure your angel boyfriend's safe." She gave a little wave as Noah shut his door and headed back into the ER.
Noah drove back to the Holt mansion as fast as he could without breaking any laws. When he pulled into the drive, everything seemed peaceful and he felt really stupid for leaving in the middle of his shift. But he had to see with his own eyes that Camille was still here and safe. Then he would go back and finish what remained of the shift. Chloe would mock him forever, but he would just feel better this way. He parked, got out, and jogged up to the front door.
A wide-eyed Sario pulled the door open and gulped visibly. "H-hey, Noah."
Noah pushed past him into the house. He had no time to deal with Darius' little brother's insecurities. "Where's Camille? I need to talk to him."
"You couldn't just text him?"
Noah blinked, surprised that Sario had actually said something intelligent for once. "Yeah, I guess I could have. But I'm here now. Can you just tell me where he is?"
Sario bit at his bottom lip, which was already abnormally red and ripped. "So…don't freak out, but we don't know."
Noah felt his heart stop and become a sharp shard of ice in his chest. "You're kidding me. You lost my boyfriend in less than six hours?"
Sario gulped again, the sound horribly loud in Noah's ears. "Rowan says that he's probably just hiding in some dark corner of the house, but there's actually not too many places to hide in here. We don't have a lot of closets or weird corners."
"So he's not in the house?" Noah's voice almost broke. "Where was the last place you saw him?"
"Living room," Sario replied, following Noah into that room.
Noah looked around, noting that Camille's phone lay abandoned on a couch cushion. Then his eyes drifted to the clear pathway from that couch out to the sliding back door. A door that he was pretty sure the Holts always kept locked. He pointed, watching Sario's eyes follow his finger and find the problem.
Sario's mouth dropped open slightly. "Oh, fuck," he whispered. He ran to the door and yanked it open, his head turning both ways before Noah shoved him aside.
Noah checked both sides of the door before stepping out. He did not want to be caught off guard, even if he was fairly certain whoever had been here was long gone by now. He walked to each corner of the fenced-in yard, finding nothing each time until he reached the final corner. There was a mess of footprints in the slightly muddy ground there. Someone had climbed the fence, jumped in, and then climbed back up, all of which was impressive if Noah was not counting the fact that the someone was likely Blaise and Blaise probably had Camille in his psychopathic clutches right now. Cursing, he kicked the bottom of the fence and clenched his fists but held back from punching the concrete wall in front of him. "I'm going to kill that motherfucker," he muttered, glaring at the dirty bootprints on the white concrete like he could incinerate Blaise that way if he tried hard enough. "I swear to God, I will." His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, expecting a check-in text from Chloe.
But it was from a number not saved in his contacts. It was a location pin, followed quickly by a text: I'll kill him if you bring anyone with you.
Noah stared at the two messages for a long minute and then swore again through clenched teeth. He stormed back inside and showed the messages to Sario. "I don't know if he's in my phone and watching to see if I text someone. You need to tell your brother that Camille's kidnapped and I'm going to this address. Do not forget the fact that this psycho needs to believe I'm there alone, no matter what. You hear me?"
Sario nodded quickly, his eyes fixed on the address in a surprising level of concentration. "Got it." He glanced up at Noah. "Please be safe. Darius would kill me if I let his best friend walk off to his death or something."
Noah roughly patted Sario's shoulder. "Thanks. I'll do my best, don't worry. Make sure Rowan doesn't do anything stupid, okay?"
Sario nodded again. "I got it. Go."
Noah hurried out of the Holt mansion and back out to his car, which he started and backed out of the drive before he got his seatbelt on. He buckled it as he shifted into drive and headed toward the location Blaise had sent him. He did not know for sure that it was Blaise, but he had a very strong suspicion. Who else besides Camille's psychopathic brother would do something like this?
It was a fairly short drive to the address, pretty much a straight shot from the Cruces neighborhood to an abandoned sector of the industrial district.
Noah started to regret all of his life decisions when he parked in front of a dark building that looked like it was probably pretty soundproof. He turned off the car, locked it even though he did not know if he would be coming back, and walked into the building, expecting to be jumped with every step he took. When he saw a faint light coming from a completely internal room, he carefully pushed the metal door all the way open, making sure to push it hard enough so it banged against the wall and confirmed that there was no one laying in wait behind it.
A man Noah had never seen before was sitting in a simple wooden chair in the middle of the gutted room. A black beanie and mask lay abandoned on the floor next to the chair. It did not take a genius to connect this person with the one who had attacked the police officers. He ran both hands back through his slick blond hair and smiled with a chilling precision. "Well, well, if it isn't Monsieur Callahan. Right on time."
Noah glanced around the bare room before taking a step forward. "You're Blaise, aren't you? Camille's older brother?"
With a scoff, the man shrugged and replied, "Oui – yes – of course." For some reason, he seemed angry that he had slipped in French. "Who else would I be?" He wrapped something around his right hand with his left: a chain that clinked softly as its links brushed against each other.
Noah mentally calculated the range of the chain as a weapon and stayed where he was. He was not interested in getting slapped in the face with a hunk of metal. Almost against his will, his eyes followed the chain down from Blaise's hand to where it pooled on the floor before disappearing behind the chair.
Something was sitting on the floor directly behind Blaise, hidden by his long coat.
Blaise took up the slack and kept pulling, drawing a choked sound out of whatever was hiding behind that chair. He clicked his tongue. "Come now, pet," he coaxed in a venomously sweet voice. "Don't you want to show your petit – little – boyfriend how sweet and obedient you are?"
Camille. Camille was behind that chair, quite literally chained to Blaise's will.
With another yank, Blaise pulled Camille out into Noah's sight.
It was all Noah could do not to rush forward and try to kill Blaise right then and there.
Camille was chained with a literal collar around his pale neck. His arms, stomach, and legs were bare, exposed by the cropped tanktop and very short jean shorts he was wearing. Had Blaise forced him to put that on? He whimpered faintly as his elbow struck the concrete floor, his opposite hand coming up to cradle the wound. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely there. "I'm sorry, Blaise. I didn't mean to–"
Camille's words ended abruptly as Blaise calmly shifted in the chair, the movement not designed to threaten but to insinuate a coming threat.
Camille hunkered down as close to the floor as he could possibly get, the humiliating action fanning Noah's fury. He whimpered when Blaise's foot twitched, clearly anticipating pain. "No, I'm sorry." The words were barely audible.
Noah took another step forward, now that he knew the chain was not Blaise's weapon of choice. He was furious and brokenhearted at how quickly Camille had lapsed back into his trauma-inflicted training. "Blaise, let him go."
Blaise raised a singular eyebrow. "Let him go," he repeated, speaking each word slowly like he was tasting each syllable. "Such a strange phrase, no? It'd be bad if we were on top of the building and you said that." He grinned, his teeth flashing in the dim bare bulb lighting. "Wouldn't it?"
Noah advanced further, his eyes darting between Camille and Blaise in an effort to monitor his boyfriend's condition and make sure Blaise did not make any sudden moves. "What does this do for you? Are you just obsessed with hurting Camille?"
Blaise cocked his head and dropped his gaze to Camille, who was curled on the dirty floor. He leaned down and lifted Camille's chin, revealing a tear-streaked face. "Oh, mon petit sucre, are you really so scared?" he asked mockingly. "Your adorable boyfriend is here for you, which is more than I expected from him. You should be happy that you have a chance of leaving."
Camille raised a hand, but not to threaten Blaise or smack him away. He dried the tears off his face with silent precision. "I am happy." The words sounded like they came out of a robot's mouth. No emotion or inflection. Camille had probably learned that those things were dangerous around a manipulative bastard like Blaise.
"Camille," Noah pleaded, "you don't have to lie. I know you're scared right now, but I promise that I won't let him hurt you anymore."
Blaise threw his head back and laughed. "And how will you do that, Monsieur Chivalrous?" He twirled the loose end of the chain he held. "Are you saying that you'll come over here and take him from me?" With no warning, he dropped the chain, launched out of the chair, and came at Noah faster than Noah could counter.
Noah found himself pinned against one of the metal support beams with Blaise right in his face, and he began to understand some of Camille's fear.
Blaise yanked Noah's hands behind the pole and secured them there with what felt like zip ties. "Don't worry. I'll give him back to you. But only when he remembers the place he ought to have stayed in." He patted Noah's cheek with the back of his gloved hand. "I'm doing you a favor. You'll thank me afterward." Returning to the chair, he picked up the chain again and sat back down.
Camille had not moved an inch despite Blaise letting go of the chain for a minute. He was a statue of submission and humiliation, kneeling there on the floor in the scraps of clothing revealing all the scars from previous tortures. When Blaise grabbed the chain off the floor, Camille shifted just enough so his legs were tucked under him and his hands rested on his knees.
Blaise casually kicked Camille directly in the stomach, smiling when Camille barely flinched. He reached out and pet Camille's curls. "That's it, mon petit sucre. You do remember the rules."
Noah jerked against the plastic biting into his wrists. "Stop it, you sadistic bastard!"
Blaise ignored him. "How about something a little more familiar?" He stuck his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a thin, wicked-looking knife.
Camille flinched just at the sight of it, which told Noah that Blaise had likely used that exact blade before.
"Mm-mm." Blaise flicked the knife out across Camille's bare left arm. "No reaction without pain. You know that." He made the same cut on Camille's other arm. Did the psycho have an obsession with symmetry or something?
"I hope you know you're going to die painfully," Noah ground out.
Blaise's eyes flicked up to him, narrow and rather snakelike. "I accepted that fact as soon as I was old enough to fully understand the ideas of pain and death." It was said in a dead serious voice, the personable mask stripped away. This blood-chilling man who had anticipated a horrible death since his childhood was the truest version of Blaise LeVieux.
It gave Noah pause, since he had never heard of anyone responding to a death threat in that way before.
Blaise calmly returned his attention to Camille. "Come sit."
Camille stood up and then hesitated, giving Noah time to see the little pieces of rock stuck in the skin of his knees. When Blaise gave an impatient jerk on the chain, Camille immediately obeyed, going to sit on Blaise's lap like they were a couple instead of brothers.
Baise looked quite pleased as he rested his hands on Camille's exposed waist. "Come on, mon petit sucre. You know better than to just sit there. We need to remind your boyfriend that he picked a whore out of the gutter to play dress up as a princess."
Noah yanked against his plastic restraints, tears burning his eyes when Camille's hands moved as if by programming to slide up Blaise's chest and rest his wrists on Blaise's shoulders. "Camille, you don't have to do that!"
Camille shuddered at Noah's voice. He glanced over his shoulder, and Noah saw the horrible pain in those gray eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and it was the Camille Noah had gotten to know over the past months speaking those words. Not the Camille brought out by trauma. It was Noah's boyfriend, the gentle angel who loved babies and cuddles. The person being murdered from the inside out right in front of Noah's eyes.
Blaise gripped Camille's chin and forced his gaze away from Noah. "Non – no – he doesn't get your attention right now. You focus on me. I'm the one who decides whether or not you leave. Not him. Me."
Noah shifted slowly to get the taut plastic of the zip ties against the corner of the brace. "Do you need a power trip to survive or something?"
Blaise scowled ever so slightly, the expression of annoyance softening as Camille's hands cupped his neck and then his face. "What do you think?" he replied bluntly. "You're there and your precious little whore boyfriend is here in my lap. If that doesn't give you the answer, I don't know what to tell you."
Noah made small movements as he started slowly sawing through the plastic around his wrists with a jagged edge his fingers had found. "Do not call him that," he snarled.
"It's what he is," Blaise said in a tone that was better matched to examining fingernails for dirt rather than torturing two people. "He's been a whore ever since we found out he was a mistake. An omega," he spat, like the word itself was poison. He grabbed a handful of Camille's curls out of nowhere and yanked hard enough that Noah could see the tears that sprang into Camille's terrified eyes. "He deserves everything that's happened to him and more. Not you, of course. He doesn't deserve you, not in a million years." He clicked his tongue at Camille. "Who told you to stop, whore?" He accented that last horrible word on purpose, his eyes gleaming at Noah.
Camille was trembling like he was about to break down in tears but did as he was commanded, continuing to run his hands over Blaise's upper body and face. Every inch of him was screaming for help, for some kind of rescue, even if that rescue was death.
Then the door slammed open, along with the other door on the far side of the room. Police officers filled the room faster than Noah could count, and they had thrown Blaise to the floor before the psychopath could react to their presence.
With a blur of red hair, Darius was by Noah's side, whipping out his pocket knife and sawing away at Noah's bonds. "You crazy son of a bitch," Darius snapped, his tone loving but exasperated. "You could have gotten yourself killed."
Noah was not focused on Darius or his words. His attention was on Camille, who an officer was starting to put handcuffs on. "Don't touch him!" he yelled. "The one with the blond curls! Don't touch him!"
Surprised, the officer stopped, glancing at Noah with a puzzled look on his face. He pointed to Camille in astonishment. "You're telling me not to arrest the prostitute for extremely indecent behavior?"
With a snap, the zip ties gave, and Noah shot over to Camille's side. "He's not a prostitute! That man on the floor over there is his brother, who's a fucking sadistic psychopath!"
The officer glanced between Camille and Blaise a couple times before turning red and muttering an apology.
Noah yanked off his own jacket and guided Camille's limp arms into it to cover him from the wandering eyes of the officers not currently employed in subduing Blaise. He even zipped the jacket up for good measure. Then he braced Camille's face in between his hands. "Hey," he said softly. "Can you look at me, please, angel?"
Camille's gray eyes lifted from wherever they had been staring in dissociation and met Noah's gaze.
Noah unbuckled the collar from around Camille's neck and threw it aside. He traced the red skin with a gentle thumb. "Are you hurt, ma moitié ?"
Camille smiled, and it was genuine instead of robotic and forced. "Your French is horrible," he murmured, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Noah's shoulder. "Hm," he said quietly, "you're warm." He was shivering, probably from a combination of the skimpy clothes and shock.
Noah wrapped his arms around Camille. "I've got a blanket in my car."
Camille squeezed Noah so tightly he was scared his ribs might break. "Don't leave me. Please."
Noah hugged him back tightly. "Don't worry. I'm not going to leave you. I was suggesting I wrap you in that blanket before we go home."
Camille buried his face deeper into Noah's shoulder. "As long as you don't make me walk. I don't think my legs are working yet."
Noah smiled and picked Camille up easily. "Like I need an excuse to carry you, my princess."
Camille went stiff, and Noah realized exactly what was going through his head.
Noah kissed his cheek softly. "You are a princess. You're my princess. You know I don't hold anything in your past against you, right?"
After a moment, Camille nodded and relaxed again.
Noah was sure tomorrow would be a whole different kind of hell as he helped Camille sort through everything the PTSD was certain to bring to mind. But for now he just took his angel home.