6. Damien

Isee everything, including the cops stationed outside her house. They think they're clever by being in an off-duty car, but I see how their eyes remain glued on her house. They have been on her ass since right after her run in with Regina George and her followers. I doubt Trixie notices them, but I did. Anything strange I take notice of, especially when that includes people staring.

I'm trying to keep my distance for now, but it's becoming very difficult. When that bitch pushed her, I saw red and wanted nothing more than to rearrange her face to mimic that of who she seems to hate–my Trixie. For her, that would probably be a fate worse than death. Instead, I found myself walking right up to my girl and helping her with her bag. When she looked at me, I felt it–her recognition of me. I felt it long before she said it. She may not know where she knows me from, but she can sense me. I'm in her bones as much as she is in mine.

I wanted to tell her who I was and I fucking tried, but nothing would come out. The only progress I made was a squeak in the back of my throat. It's been so long since I've used my voice, I don't know if I'm capable of it.

It's easy to circumnavigate the cops stationed outside by sneaking through the brush around her house. I follow the lights inside to her second story window at the back of the house. When I back up far enough, I can see her laying in her bed. She looks so peaceful, but I'm too far away. I need to get closer.

With little effort, I climb the Easter White Pine next to her window. The pane is unlocked so I soundlessly push it open and slip inside. My girl lays in the bed, her cheek resting on her pillow, only wearing a slate gray tank top and a pair of black panties under it.

She's so beautiful, sleeping like the most dangerous predator in this state isn't feet from her, staring at her sleeping form like she's the whole fucking buffet.

Her computer sits on the bed next to her, the screen black, and a little pink bullet vibrator lays beside her head like she passed out right after getting herself off. I wonder what she thought about when bringing herself to bliss and maybe if she was thinking about me.

The predator she's been warned about or the stranger she met on the street who didn't speak a word. I'm satisfied with either conclusion, but I won't be happy at all if the one she thought about was anyone other than me. If I find out she touched herself thinking of any other man, I'll kill him and make sure she knows exactly why I did it. I'll gift wrap his cock and balls with the skin of his torso and cut off his hands to use like a little bow. It's the only way she'll have someone other than me in any capacity.

Hell, I'll kill anyone who has touched her because she's mine. No one else should be alive that knows how she tastes or the way she sounds when she gets off. No, that is something only meant for me.

Trailing my fingers up her bare leg, I groan from how much of a relief it is to feel her in any way. My cock hardens in my pants as I smooth my fingers over the swell of her ass. Trixie softly moans in her sleep and her rump pushes back against my palm. It's a temptation to touch her while she sleeps, to play with her, but that's one line I'm not crossing yet. She's the only person on this planet who is safe from my wrath.

With each moment I stand over her, my cock pulses at the possibility. She's right in my grasp, lying helplessly in her bed. I could push her panties to the side and take what belongs to me. I very well could and I bet she's tired enough that she would keep sleeping like a baby.

I'm not going to, though. I'm a patient man. I have a plan in place and I'm going to stick to it.

Pushing the hair from her face, I press a soft kiss to her temple and the softest whisper falls from her sinful lips.

"Damien."

I freeze like a statue. My name. She said my fucking name in her sleep. Either she knows it"s me—muscle memory and all that—or she's dreaming of me.

My girl.

I press another kiss there before I hear footsteps outside her room. I'm quick to stand tall and look around for an escape. I'm not scared of being found, but it's not time for this confrontation.

Her adoptive parents are far down my list and I need to go down it in chronological order. I step into her bathroom with the light off and the door open. The darkness is enough to conceal me without making a ruckus.

Her bedroom door is pushed open and a petite blond woman steps inside with a sigh.

"Oh, sweetheart," she says as she walks over to the window and closes it. "So tired." Mrs. Sullivan walks over to the end of the bed, grabs the comforter, and tugs it over Trixie's sleeping form before kissing her cheek. "Goodnight, my love." Mrs. Sullivan picks up the laptop and sets it on the desk before glancing over at my girl, sleeping warm in her bed. She taps the mouse pad, the backlight flickers on, and Mrs. Sullivan curses under her breath before closing the laptop. She's careful as she walks out of the room and shuts the door.

What the hell did she see on Trixie's laptop that made her react like that? Was it porn?

I almost laugh at the thought before I walk back into her room and open the lid to the laptop again. My eyes widen in surprise and not much surprises me anymore.

She was looking at crime scene photos, specifically the photos taken of Samantha's corpse tied to that chair, the knives and needles sticking out of her cunt like a pin cushion.With her throat slit and her tongue pulled through the cut, she looks like a cartoon character, especially with how much time has passed.

Why was Trixie looking at these?

My gaze drifts back to her and my eyes fall on her vibrator. If she was using this to get off, she's into even darker things than I expected. It's kind of hot that she might be exceeding my expectations. I'm a bit impressed actually.

Closing the laptop, my gaze darts to her bedroom door. I can hear the hushed arguing coming from downstairs and my eyes narrow. Is the Lieutenant home?

I figured once he heard I was gone that he would be searching for me longer than that. It's no skin off my back. I'm completely confident that he is no threat to me. He's still going to die, but I'm not going to throw myself out the window if he is here.

I'm careful with my footsteps as I walk to her bedroom door and silently open it before slipping into the hall. I don't move past the door as I listen to the commotion.

"We need to get her out of here!" Mrs. Sullivan yells from downstairs.

"Lower your voice, Karen." Yup, that's definitely the Lieutenant. My teeth grind of their own accord at the sound of his voice. I'm itching to find a knife to dispose of him just from earning it. He's a backstabbing little cunt. He took Trixie from me. For that sin alone, he needs to die and I'm going to make it hurt so bad he'll be praying for the death I'll deliver him. First, he needs to be tortured so he can feel the pain he put me through when he took my soul reason for living away from me. "And she's not going anywhere."

"You said it yourself. Damien King is coming here. What do you think he's going to do when he finds out that she's here?"

Plenty of things, Mrs. Sullivan. I have a very active imagination when it comes to torturing people who deserve it, like your husband.

"That is why I assigned her a protective detail. They will keep her safe until we apprehend King."

"What if you don't? You have no idea what he looks like now. He could walk right up to the front door and you wouldn't know him from Thomas Jefferson for fuck sakes. This is our daughter we're talking about. It is our job to keep her safe and there's a mass murderer on the loose."

It's true. They have no fucking clue what I look like. It makes it easier for me to move around town and there's no screaming panic.

"We need to tell her the truth, at the very least," Mrs. Sullivan adds in a softer voice and I smirk.

That would've been the smart thing to do years ago. Now it's a little too late for honesty.

"She knows everything she needs to know about that man," the Lieutenant retorts quickly.

"And what is that, Henry?"

"She knows that Damien King snapped at age twelve and killed sixteen people. She knows about Bellatrix Rothchild–"

"Yeah, but does she know that she is Bellatrix? Does she know how much danger she is in now that Damien King escaped?"

Jesus fucking Christ. These people are idiots.

"No and she doesn't need to. It will only cause unnecessary panic."

Mrs. Sullivan gasps in horror. "Unnecessary panic! You saw the inside of his room at that prison hospital. He wrote Trixie on every goddamn surface. He's obsessed with her. He's coming back to finish what he started."

True, true, and motherfucking true.She's only missing one piece to the puzzle.

"And she'll be protected by the best cops in this town. He won't get to her."

Eeeh! Wrong. That's not the right piece. You can do better than that, Lieutenant.

"You've been a cop for twenty years. You're smarter than that, Henry. All he needs to do is a little bit of research and he'll find her. Do you forget that he killed thirteen freaking adults in the matter of a few hours? How many more people has he killed since he went to prison when he turned eighteen?"

The Lieutenant groans. "One hundred and thirty five people."

"Henry."

"It's different, okay? We're prepared for this. We can keep her safe. She doesn't need to know she was in that house. All I need to do is find him and everything can go back to the way it was."

"Nothing can ever go back to the way it was. Damien King was dormant, docile, whatever the hell you want to call it, for who knows how long, then he put one of your best detectives in the hospital–"

Aw, poor Luke didn't die. How tragic. I should've hit him harder. Maybe he'll know not to jibber jabber to the wrong person. Lesson learned.

"You have five days, Henry. Then, we do this my way. Find him and put him back where he belongs, not to protect the town, but to protect Aurora. We are telling her the truth in five days–Devil's Night. If he's not caught by then, we're packing her up and sending her to Susan's place in Michigan. He won't ever find her there. She'll be safe and that's all that should matter to you as her father. Leave your pride out of it."

My eyes narrow as anger surges through me. They aren't taking her away from me again. Not now. Not ever.

My plans have just been moved and I know just the right way to rearrange everything.