So, for the time being, I told myself I’d shelve the thought. I don’t push, only promise to give her what she needs. But I do make clear, “We will do that.”Someday. “One day, we will go anywhereyouwant us to, but we’re going to kill these fuckers first, Bun. I’m going to fucking murder them for me, and I’m going to murder them for you.”
Cade
“Idon’t think these fit me,” I announce in a sharp whisper, feeling the fabric that tightly hugs my frame. The slacks are a bit too short, and the expensive button-down shirt stretches dangerously across my back. One wrong move and I may come busting out of this.
“Will you stop?” Bunny chuckles, fixing the wrinkles created by my fidgeting. “They look fine.”
They do not. The only thing that looks good is this watch—a pink-gold Audemars Piguet chronograph from the late 1930s—“I’ve always wanted one.” Broken or not, it’s just like my grandfather’s.
I’m studying the cracked face when I feel eyes burning into my side. I don’t need to look to know it’s Bunny studying me, as she has been since we changed into this ridiculous attire. Well, mine is laughable. Hers is—God, I stare at her now, taking her in once again. Where I look ready for a long day at the office, she seems prepared to ruin my life. Long legs, perky tits, curves that are the gentlest slopes, but God, I don’t think there’s anything that can quite compare to her face.
“What?” Bunny asks, cheeks turning red.
Continuing to study her, I remark, “You were going to be a model.”
It’s a statement, not a question, to which she responds with a moody, solemn glance at the leaf-covered ground. “Yeah. I wanted to be.”
“In another life, Bunny,” I whisper, taking her left hand, kissing each knuckle one by one, “you would have been the greatest thing the world’s ever seen.”
People are generally easy to read. But then some looks in life are completely indecipherable. The look Bunny gives me now is one of those. Her eyes give absolutely nothing away—no thoughts, no story. Nothing. I’m left staring, wondering if I crossed a line. I’m about to apologize when she blinks, every feeling emerging in the form of a single falling tear.
“Thank you, Cade.” It’s barely a murmur, but I hear her loud as day. All the sorrow and regret festering in her gut comes out in a quiet, strangled gasp.
Whataloss, I think, that the world will never know this beautiful, broken girl. What a shame that only the sickest have had the opportunity to experience someone so wonderful. It’s a waste to hide her, but selfishly, I hope, even after we do what she’s planned, Bunny chooses to stay mine—mine and mine alone.
But what a loss.
No, the world doesn’t deserve her.
Kissing her on the crown of her head, we peer through the trees, glaring at the two adults fucking on a bed.
“That's their kid?” I ask, staring through another window at a little girl watching something on the TV, alone.
Bunny watches her for a moment, anger trapped between clenched lips. “I don’t know. Probably. Yeah… she must be.” After everything Bunny shared with me, everything this sickbastard has done to her, it turns my stomach thinking of this fucker with kids—a little girl, no less.
“Motherfucker,” I curse, spitting his name into the dirt. Hours tick by with us just fucking watching, but the more I think, the higher my rage builds.
“Not yet,” Bunny hisses periodically, keeping me locked in place with a secure lock on my wrist. It isn’t until the cabin goes dark, still for a handful of moments, that Bunny releases me. I waste no time stalking ahead, her hand clasped in mine. We’re weightless; our steps noiseless over fallen foliage. The only sound to be heard is the swoosh of the blade flying through the air before I cut a slit in the screen door.
Lock flipped, I slowly pull the door open, allowing Bun to slide through before I follow in carefully. This is her mission, her revenge to exact, so I step after her, dutifully following. She led us into the bedroom of the little girl, who was asleep peacefully, before she sensed our presence. Now, fully awake, the little girl stares at us, frozen in fear. I could say the same for us, statuesque in terror.
I motion to the little girl to be silent, but Bunny springs into action, raising her hands in peace. “We’re not going to hurt you,” she tells the girl. “I promise.” But the little girl isn’t convinced, a horrified glare shifting between the two of us.
I’m afraid that at any moment, she’s going to start screaming and crying, causing a scene that may force me to act in a way I never wished to. But I’d put my hands on this little girl, ensuring her silence, before I allowed Bunny to be hurt again. Thankfully, the little girl surprises us both.
“Are you here for the bad man?”
That question creates a hole in my gut, but I answer truthfully, falling to my knees in the space beside her bed. “Yes. We’re gonna make the bad man go away because he hurt her,” I say, gesturing to Bunny.
I thought there were limits to her terror, but it deepens with a tiny, strangled gasp. “He hurts me, too.”
Bunny, face sinking, falls beside me, taking the little girl’s palm in her own. “I’m going to make sure he never hurts you again.” Another promise. “Would you like that?” Her nod is immediate, full of hope.
“What’s your name?” I ask, throat closing.
Stuttering, she cries, “Sophie.”
“Sophie,” Bunny smiles, wiping the tears away from her baby-soft skin, “we’re going to stop the bad man, but I need you to do something for us, okay?”
