As Mickey stood up to take it, he glanced at Rowena’s back and found himself staring.
Cold had just happened to brush her hair out the way, and Mickey saw a zig-zagging pattern of thick scars peeking out from the top of her little pajama top.
Christ.
Cold caught Mickey’s eye. “You and Roger may sleep in here tonight if you wish. She’s staying with me.”
“Thanks, Boss.” Mickey stood up a little straighter. “For everything.”
“Good night.” Cold headed down the hallway.
“I’m s-sorry, Roddy,” Rowena whimpered. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shhh, it’s okay,” Cold promised. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here…” His voice trailed off as he vanished into the master bedroom and shut the door.
Roger was hovering outside the guest room door, and he asked, “Uh, everything okay?”
“Sort of?” Mickey held up the knife. He honestly didn’t know what to do with it and handed it to Roger.
“Cute.” Roger turned to pass it over to Crybaby. “Need a knife?”
“Uh, sure?” Crybaby snorted. “I’ll use it to cut all these damn tubes I’m hooked up to and escape.”
“The fuck you will.”
Mickey was still thinking about the scars he’d seen on Rowena’s back. He’d heard Cold’s father was a real bastard, but to abuse a child? Fuck, and people thought Mickey was a monster.
“No, you’re not.” Roger leaned in to give Crybaby a hug. “No escaping for you. Now I hate to tear myself away and all, but I did just hear that me and Mickey got a bed. And I’m, mmm,yawn, so very tired now.”
Rolling her eyes, Crybaby gave Roger a playful smack. “Go on. Get some ‘rest’ or whatever it is you’re going to do. Tomorrow is gonna be a wreck.”
“Oh?” Mickey frowned at her.
“You guys murdered how many fuckin’ people?” She scoffed. “Someone is gonna be looking for a way to make this all go away. Whether it’s the damn cops or some of Rufus’ fancy ol’ political friends, there’s gotta be a way out. A light at the end of the tunnel. For all of us. That’s how Cold is gonna win. He’s gonna give them a way to end this.”
Mickey nodded.
It was honestly hard to imagine victory. He’d been working for it for so long, he was a little unsure as to how he would feel if they actually got it.
No, not if;when.
He selfishly hoped it wasn’t like killing Salvatore. Revenge hadn’t done much for him, but maybe winning this war would.
He let Roger drag him into Rowena’s room, and he saw nothing had changed since the last time he’d been in here for tea. Everything was pink, fluffy, and soft, and there were a lot of unicorns. Between plushies, figurines, and the rest of the decor, there were probably fifty of them all staring at Mickey with their big, dopey eyes.
The bed was small but comfortable, and Mickey sank down into the poofy blankets with a groan after he’d stripped down to his underwear. He was exhausted, and his body was crashing from too many surges of adrenaline. He could clearly picture Salvatore’s dead face, and it made him smile.
That one’s for you, Pops.
Roger got naked, of course, slinking into bed next to him and cuddling up close. “I’ve been worried about you. Did, uh, everything go okay with Cold? Did you guys talk while you were down there?”
“He made it very clear that he will not tolerate my disobedience again.” Mickey sighed. “It’s fine. He’s right to be angry with me. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Yeah, you were thinking about how good it was gonna feel to blow that asshole away.”
“Except…” Mickey hesitated to describe his feelings. He wasn’t very good at it, and he didn’t know if it was going to make any sense. “It didn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
