Victor was determined to get the truth out of Camilla. His patience had run dry, and the games she played were wearing thin. His voice cut through the tense air like a blade.
"Stop!" he barked, his sharp tone making even his own men stiffen. He stepped closer, his piercing gaze locking onto Camilla, who, despite her situation, still carried that infuriating smirk.
Victor clenched his fists, the weight of betrayal pressing against his chest. "Catch her and shut her down," he ordered his subordinates. "No food, no water—nothing. Keep her locked up until she's ready to talk."
Camilla's expression flickered for a brief second, but she quickly masked it with feigned amusement. "You really think starving me will get you the truth?" she mocked, tilting her head.
Victor wasn't in the mood for her antics. "No, but hunger has a way of breaking even the most stubborn," he said coldly.
As his men dragged Camilla away, her laughter echoed through the dimly lit warehouse. "You're wasting your time, Victor!" she called out. "You'll never find what you're looking for!"
Victor exhaled sharply, watching as she disappeared behind the heavy steel doors. He had no intention of giving up—Camilla would break, one way or another.
Victor Holloway stood in silence for a moment, his mind racing. He had spent years climbing to the top, and now, just when he thought he had everything under control, betrayal was creeping in from the shadows.
His subordinate, a tall man with a scar running down his left cheek, stepped forward. "What's the next move, boss?"
Victor exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. "We watch. We wait. Camilla's not working alone—someone fed her confidence, made her believe she could pull this off." He turned to the scar-faced man. "I want surveillance on anyone she's been in contact with. No one makes a move without me knowing."
The man nodded, disappearing into the night. Victor walked over to the window, staring out at the dimly lit streets. Camilla was a snake, but even snakes had masters.
The question was—who was holding her leash? And how deep did this betrayal go?
Camilla Robbinson sat in the cold, dimly lit room, her back pressed against the steel wall. The only source of light came from the small barred window near the ceiling, casting eerie shadows across the concrete floor. The air smelled of damp metal and dust, a stark contrast to the luxury she had once surrounded herself with.
Her stomach growled, a painful reminder that she hadn't eaten since Victor had given the order to starve her into submission. Her lips were dry, and her throat ached from thirst. But she refused to break.
She paced the small room, counting her steps, forcing herself to focus. Victor wanted her to talk, to confess, to tell him who was behind her supposed betrayal. But what if there was no one? What if she was being played just as much as he was?
She sat back down, her mind racing. If she didn't find a way out soon, this steel prison would become her grave.
As the hours dragged on, Camilla's resolve wavered. The hunger clawed at her stomach, and the thirst made her lips crack, but she refused to give in. She had survived worse. She wouldn't let Victor Holloway win.
The steel door suddenly groaned open, and a blinding light flooded the room. She squinted, raising a shaky hand to shield her eyes. Victor's silhouette stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Behind him, two of his men flanked the entrance, their gazes cold and watchful.
"Have you thought about my question?" Victor's voice was calm, but the danger beneath it was unmistakable.
Camilla swallowed, forcing herself to sit up straighter. "I told you," she rasped, "I'm not betraying you. Someone is setting me up."
Victor stepped closer, his boots echoing against the floor. He crouched in front of her, his dark eyes boring into hers. "Then tell me—who? Who has the power to make me doubt you?"
Camilla's mind raced. She had suspicions, but no proof. If she named the wrong person, she'd only dig herself deeper into this mess. But if she stayed silent, Victor might decide she was no longer worth keeping alive.
She licked her dry lips and met his gaze head-on. "Let me out, and I'll find out for you."
Victor chuckled, shaking his head. "Nice try." He stood and turned toward the door. "No food. No water. We'll see how talkative you are tomorrow."
The door slammed shut, and Camilla was left alone in the darkness once more.
Victor Holloway wasn't a patient man, and Camilla Robbinson's silence only fueled his frustration. He stood outside the dimly lit room, arms crossed, eyes cold. Another day had passed, and she still hadn't uttered a single word. She was stubborn, but he was relentless.
He wondered what to do to make Camilla Robbinson talk.
Victor Holloway stood outside the steel doors, watching through the small barred window as Camilla Robbinson sat on the cold floor, her once-pristine dress now wrinkled and stained with sweat. She was strong-willed, he'd give her that, but he knew everyone had a breaking point.
With a slow exhale, he turned to his right-hand man. "She won't talk easily," Victor muttered. "But everyone has a weakness. If she won't break for herself, she'll break for someone else."
His subordinate gave a knowing nod. "We've been looking into her past. There's someone she's always kept hidden—her younger brother, Jonathan. He's been living under a different name in a quiet town outside the countryside."
Victor smirked. "Bring him in."
As the order was given, Victor stepped back into the room, crouching in front of Camilla. "You think you can outlast me?" His voice was calm but laced with danger. "By tomorrow, you might not care about what happens to you. But what about your brother?"
Camilla's body stiffened, but she quickly masked it with a cold stare. "You're bluffing."
Victor chuckled. "We'll see."
Now, it was only a matter of time.