Vindicated (Camren)

Chapter 11: Confidant

• • •

Camila carefully took off her black leather jacket leaving the hidden tiny microphone piece attached to it then neatly placed the garment behind that huge flower pot at the hotel hallway. While her Polynesian partner at the other end of the line didn't seem to notice this eventual unauthorized absence, she casually marched towards the male restroom right at the corner. Just as she opened the door, this old pudgy man on his coat and tie and whose hairline was miserably depleting met her blank face with one long-lasting odd stare. Nonetheless, the brunette cleared the way for him as if there was nothing strange about a woman entering the men's room before walking in completely. The others inside turned to her questioningly, but there was something about the way she looked back at them that coerced them to get out of there immediately. As soon as the last man hurriedly closed the door behind him, Camila started slamming every cubicle door open to search for her guest of honor who wouldn't volunteer to show himself.

"Stan!"

One cubicle down. No sign of him.

"I know you're in here."

Two. Still, no sign of Stan Cabello.

"Show your fucking face to me this time!"

Three. It was another empty one. With just one more cubicle left, Camila stood impatiently at the door.

"If you're fucking brave enough to try and kill me," Camila hissed at the closed door, "you should be fucking brave enough to show me your goddamn face. I want to see how you look when you finally able to plunge a knife into my chest or shoot a bullet right into my head."

Still, Stan did not reveal himself and so the brunette let out a sigh.

"And if you did, I hope you won't regret it because apology doesn't bring back the dead, Stan. I should know... you know that."

Suddenly, as if her words were the sacred password for it, the cubicle door was slowly pulled open revealing Stan Cabello standing steadily on his feet, his right arm hanging on a sling, his cheeks bruised, and his lips broken and swelled up. Really, it was amazing how he could still look gorgeous even with that beaten up image across his face. Maybe it was the effect of the beautiful bouquet of flowers in his right hand.

"You look awful," Camila casually remarked at her brother's appearance.

Stan shook his head apologetically then walked towards the sink where he carefully set the bouquet for the meantime. He looked at his reflection on the mirror but he was only reminded about guilt so he turned away, his eyes landing on his sister's livid eyes.

"I don't have plenty of time," Camila admitted. "If you have something to tell me, just spit the shit out now."

"It was a mission. Alejandro sent me."

"Then you flunked it."

Stan turned around to finally face his sister directly. This time, there was no mask to hide his identity and no mirror to implicate an illusion of reality.

"Believe it or not, I wasn't there to kill you. You're my sister. I would never do that to you, kiddo."

"I killed our mother," Camila pointed out, sheepishly shrugging her shoulders.

And her brother could only purse his lips together in defeat. Perhaps, blood relations was never really an exemption from the code. That was always the idea anyway. So for a moment, The older Cabello lowered his gaze down on the floor then shook his head frustratingly at what his sister just spit into his face.

"That was completely different."

"No, they're exactly the same. The Secret Society gave us missions to accomplish. I did mine, you failed yours."