27. JUNE 14TH, 1994

BUNNY

We argued about who we'd go after next for three days.

Colette.

Nathan.

The mayor.

Colette.

Nathan.

The mayor.

And then the news of Lakens's death hit the air, stopping any plans and all time. For the first day, Cade and I never left the safety of the motel's bed, eyes glued to the television, scrolling through every news source to see what they knew.

"Jefferey Lakens, Police Officer at the Riverton Police Department, was found in the early hours of Saturday morning. His newly-wed wife, who was found handcuffed to the bed, implored her daughter to call the police. Upon arrival, officers located the deceased. I must warn you, the details of the discovery are hard to stomach and may be inappropriate for some viewers."

Sitting at a long blue table, surrounded by men with disgust and horror etched across their faces, she describes the pool of blood found beneath Lakens's slumped-over form. She details the state of his body, how bones jutted out at unnatural angles, and the overwhelming evidence present of bludgeoning tattooed across his skin. All of that I knew, thinking back to how violently I bashed that club against his flesh, but it"s what she says next that boils my blood.

"Forensics claim a serrated blade was used to nearly decapitate the head of Officer Lakens. A grisly and gruesome sight for his five-year-old daughter to witness."

"I didn't fucking cut his head off! I fucking should have if I knew they were going to make up some bullshit!" Cade snarls, fist draining of color, as he fights not to punch through the television"s glass.

Holding him back with a tender touch, I listen to the news station go on and on about what happened. They come up with their theories. They listen to testimonies of coworkers, family, and friends. In the end, they all decide the same thing.

Only monsters could do something so sick and twisted.

That report stayed with us long into the night, haunting us—riling us up for the next one.

Eventually, after a long debate, we had settled on one, but I guess God is real, and he gave us two.

Sitting in a 1975 white Ford Convertible that Susie left dying in the alley behind her motel, Cade and I watch Colette and Nathan laughing behind a wide-pane window. They clink long-stemmed wineglasses, utterly unaware of the two of us parked below.

"Do you think it's weird how Susie is so eager to help us?"

"After what you told her?" he questions, biting into one of the bagels swiped from The Honeymoon Inn's countertop. "No."

Smiling, I take a bite out of the bagel he extends to me, closing my eyes when he wipes away the stray crumbs on my lips. "No?" I question. "We're planning on killing people."

"Rapists," he snaps. "Murderers. Kidnappers…child molesters. They aren't people, Bun. And we aren't villains for slaughtering them. You know that. I know that, and Susie knows that." But if I'm ever caught, will the world know that? Will Missy?

The unwelcome thought churns my stomach, strings of bile and bagel creeping back up my throat. Missy… It has been months since I've seen her, since I've heard her sweet, soft little voice—since I've seen those big, doll-like eyes gazing up at me as if I hung the moon and the stars.

I left her to make it big, big enough to take her away from here and give us both a beautiful life. Our life was supposed to be sunshine, beaches, ice cream, and a one-bedroom that made us feel safe. We were going to be happy, and I've ruined it all.

Refusing to give in to the emotions threatening to consume me, I vow that once these monsters are out of my way, I'll make our dreams of a safe and happy life come true. With that thought, I look over the center console, gazing at Cade, who intently watches the apartment across the road. Maybe he'll come, too.

"You okay?" he asks, palm coming down onto my knee, squeezing my bone tenderly.

"Yeah. I just want this over with."

Maybe the three of us could find a way to make peace with what's happened to us.

"Only a few more hours," Cade reassures, then swivels around to check their progress. Once we decided Nathan was the next target, the stalking began. We saw that he went to the local Whole Foods every day at three-fifteen, checking out a basket of chicken breast, potatoes, and a bottle of white wine. Afterward, Nathan would bounce from café to bar to park, meeting random teens and young adults—hunting them as he did us. The first time we realized what he was doing, it took everything in our power not to gut him. Instead, we held ourselves back and followed.

His routine was strange, but I considered it a blessing when we discovered he met Colette every night outside her yoga class. He's kind enough to walk her to her car, muttering words to make her laugh before heading back to this apartment for wine, food, and fucking.

We're at that stage now. The wine, red this time, is almost finished. Their skin is flushed and glowing, smiles stuck on their plastered faces, while their fingers dance closer and closer.

If I didn't know them, I'd think we were witnessing a romance, but people who help whore out children don't deserve that kind of happiness.

"You sure she's a part of it?" Cade asks, a pinch of concern between his brows.

I can understand his doubt. I mean, men, I know. They do vile and wicked shit to children every day, but women? We're supposed to be the nurturers. The guides. The backbone of civilization. Women aren't supposed to be cruel. Women aren't supposed to cause pain.

Women aren't supposed to be monsters.

But that one is.

"She's the one who passed me onto Marone. That was after she had me pose naked for the photos she'd sent to him. She said I was the perfect girl for her friend, someone he had been looking for." Someone he'd love.

"We'll get her, Bun," he promises, conviction in his blue glare. "We'll get 'em all."

* * *

Night has fallen by the time we're ready to move. Horns honk as we cut through traffic, but no one looks our way. My favorite part of New York is the time. No one has any. So I don't worry about all the people we pass through. I don't think twice about whether they'll remember our faces or what we're wearing. Everyone is selfish, focused on their own lives. I used to hate it when I was being abused. I cursed everyone who saw my bruises and scars and did nothing.

That same behavior is what I count on now.

Don't pay attention to us.

Don't look me in the eye.

Ignore our wounds.

Make tonight easy and pretend we don't exist.

With no interruptions, we pass through the hoard of drunks, businessmen, and powerful women, sparing them no extra glance before slinking through a piss-smelling alley. The residents of this building wouldn't be caught dead using the back entrance. It's not opulent enough. It doesn't shine like the gold doors out front. So we don't look twice after pulling the heavy metal door open and slipping inside.

The entryway is tight, leaving hardly any room for Cade and me to move around. On our right, in big, bold font, a sign reads, "Elevator Down."

Well, fuck.

Nathan and Colette are on the sixth floor.

Sighing, Cade twists around, placing his hand at the base of my spine, slightly pushing me toward the looming, black staircase.

My breath hitches with the first stride, foot faltering on the bottom step. Light. There's no light, only thin bulbs illuminating the narrow footpath. I attempt to swallow my panic and continue, pressing my hands on the concrete walls beside me to ground me.

It"s just the dark, I remind myself. I've gone through worse. I've survived a darkness darker than this. But I can't step forward. I don't want to be in darkness…ever again.

"You okay?" Cade asks, lips finding my ear. He runs his hands down my arms and squeezes me gently when he notices my terror-locked limbs. "What's wrong?"

"I don't like the dark." My admission fills me with shame. It makes me vulnerable—something I vowed never to be again. People weaponize weakness, but Cade simply holds my hand. He doesn't speak, makes no sly comment or remark about my fear. He just holds my hand and takes the lead.

Acting as my shield against things I cannot see, we climb the never-ending staircase. We're huffing and out of breath by the time we reach the correct floor, but that's the least of our concerns.

"Which one?" Cade mutters, eyeing every door down the corridor. Backs pressed against the wall, the first sense of defeat crashes into us. I watch it weigh down Cade's shoulders and crumble the light returning to his eyes. He got Lakens for me.

My turn.

Determination settling in my bones, I straighten my spine, flatten down yet another dress, and stride to a random apartment.

"What are you doing?" Cade hisses somewhere behind me as I lift my hand to knock. He tries to pull me away when the door cracks open, and the softest, frail little old woman peeks through.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, hi. There's a delivery man here looking for Nathan McDermot. Do you know where I can direct him?"

Without question or much attention, she points to the door at the end of the hall. "Thank you, ma'am. Have a nice night."

She responds with the quietest, "You too," before closing the door on me. I stand still for a moment, staring at the deep emerald paint, heart racing out of my chest.

"Holy shit."

"Holy shit," Cade laughs, for the first time completely unrestrained. The lightness of it has my heart sputtering in its cage. It's a sound I want to die hearing. Music that I pray never ends. We do that until our breaths leave us again. We just laugh.

"Are you ready?" I wheeze, knowing this one is as important to him as it is to me.

Taking me by the chin, he bends, dropping the sweetest kiss on my lips. "Are you?"

My answer is the swish of my newly gifted tactical baton. I didn't know he stole it from the cabin until a few nights ago when Cade put it in my hand after coming down my throat.

"Swallow first," he ordered, hand gently circling my neck, "and then you can play."

We didn't sleep for the rest of that night. Instead, he taught me how to swing it so I wouldn't hurt myself, where my hands should be, for the best grip.

"How do you know all this?" I asked, practicing my new skills.

His response is why I pick the lock on the door now.

"You learn to know your tools when you get beat with them."

Nathan did that to him. Nathan brought him to the devil. This is me returning the favor.

Finger to my lips, I carefully crack the door open. Cade pulls me up from my kneeling position before holding me back to be the first to enter the room. With a cold expression and a ready blade, he takes the first step in, holding his hand out toward me when he's sure it's safe.

I engage every lock soundlessly, triple-checking its security before following his lead. Our carefulness wasn't necessary, as music blasts around us. Deep notes of jazz fill the white entryway with soul while somewhere in the distance, screaming wails of pleasure vibrate the walls.

Tongue trapped between my teeth, we follow their obnoxious whines and howls around the corner. Cutting through the living room, I eye the empty bottles of wine and their half-filled glasses sitting on a long glass table. In the time it took us to climb the stairs, they swung the blinds shut, concealing the room in privacy. Silently, I thank them for their discretion. Now, the apartments across the road can't look in and watch as Cade and I creep into the room.

Legs are the first thing we see when we stick our heads through the cracked opening. Extended toward the ceiling in a deep V, Colette screams Nathan's name, begging him for more while he drives into her with brutal force.

Their sounds, combined with the living room"s pounding instrumental, mask our entrance. We don't even have to pretend to be sly. They don't hear the door closing shut anyway. It's a dangerous thing, to be completely oblivious. It's a hard lesson they're about to learn.

Hanging back with my baton at my side, I watch Cade stride forward. Vengeance hardens his ocean-blue eyes, turning them a wicked shade of navy beneath swooping lashes. A flutter of excitement burns through me as I gaze at his approach. Predatory is the only word to describe his lithe movements—a lion ready to pounce a gazelle.

And he does with a glorious rise of his blade.

Nathan's thrusts come to a halt. The flush starting from the base of his spine turns a deadly shade of white when Cade's arm crooks around his throat. I watch the other end of the knife press solidly against him. I can't hear what is whispered, but Nathan pleads for his life immediately.

"What?" I hear Colette snap, swiftly followed by shrieking cries of panic. She begins to flail on the mattress, making no progress with Nathan still stuck inside her.

Before she can free herself, I march ahead, barking, "Enough!" with my baton aimed at her head. Freezing at the sight of me, she begins to beg, stopping only when recognition hits her.

"I know you."

"Tell me how," I growl, though my baton wavers slightly. But not because of fear—because of the rage I haven't been able to control.

Monsters.

They called us monsters.

I'll show them a monster. "Tell me how!"

"I—" she stutters, stare flitting between me, the baton, and Cade, who remains holding Nathan at knifepoint. "I?—"

"Tell me!" I snap. Swinging the metal club across the bedside table, a crystal-based lamp crashes to the ground. She cries on impact, attempting to scurry away as if I swung on her. I don't let her get very far.

Hand spearing into her hair, hair I once thought the most beautiful, I yank her into my chest, holding my weapon against her trachea as Cade does Nathan.

They eye each other with hysteria and terror morphing their expressions, begging for their lives on a sweat-soaked mattress while Cade and I glare, unamused. I can hear his thoughts as clearly as he can understand mine.

They don't deserve the tears they shed.

"Enough of that," I utter, wiping away the mascara streaks with the cold metal. "We just want to talk to you."

"Please!" Colette shouts, but I don't even think she knows what to plead for yet.

"I-I have money! You can have it all! Take anything you want!"

"Oh," Cade smirks, then applies a tad more pressure. "I plan to."

In an instant, Cade flings Nathan off the bed, knee crushing into his windpipe the second his back hits the ground. Pinned, Nathan panics, face bloating and becoming a severe shade of violet.

"Get off of him!" Colette fights, but the more she struggles, the harder he leans on his heel.

"Bun, check the drawer. I need them still."

Nodding, I apply more pressure on Colette's throat, hissing in her ear. "Don't try anything. I don't have any patience for snakes with pretty tears."

Pushing her away from me, I slide off the bed, keeping one eye on her while I rummage through Nathan's belongings. Cade does his part too, stomping on Nathan's trachea, but stance ready to pounce in case she so much as flinches. The need is there, flickering behind emerald eyes. I wonder if she's dumb enough to try as I reach the final drawer, pleased when I see she is.

With a stuttered cry, Colette scampers off the bed, racing for the exit as soon as her feet hit the floor. Cade, already expecting it, pushes off Nathan's throat and bustles for her. In a flash, Cade wraps his fingers around the back of her neck and flings her in my direction. Instincts tell me to catch her, hold her falling body steady, but what's the fun in that?

I swing with all my fury, striking the club clean across her jaw. She goes down with a broken cry, teeth flying across the freshly vacuumed carpet.

Still trying to catch his breath, Nathan shuffles away on palms and heels, horrified by the sight of her gaping, bleeding mouth.

"W-w-w-why?! Why?! What do you want?!"

"Why don't you tell us?" I snarl, teeth bared inches from his quivering lips. The stench of pussy and wine wafts into my face as he hyperventilates, stare bouncing between the two of us.

Whimpers and jazz act as our background noise while he tries to place us. I'm sure he'll recognize me first, seeing as it wasn't that long ago he found me in the café and expertly worked his way into my life, but no. It's not me.

Head tilted up, he examines Cade in disbelief, a new type of fear paling his flesh. "It's you…the ranch boy." The title sets Cade's mouth in a firm line, muscles in his jaw clenching as he remembers the simple life he had before, and the man he has now, who took it away.

"Bun," he says, so softly I almost miss it, "did you find what I need?"

Exhaling, I reach behind me and grab hold of the red silk rope I find shoved in the back of the bottom drawer. It was hidden amongst other fun toys, snuggled beside an extra-large glittery dildo and matching ball gag. I pull those out, too.

Just in case.

He takes the rope from my hand and snatches Nathan by the hair, before dragging him to the center of the bedroom. "Get her," he instructs, nodding to Colette, who weeps and cradles her oozing mouth in the corner.

"No! No!" she tries to scream when I take her by the hair, poorly attempting to fight me off with weak punches while simultaneously trying to keep the remaining teeth in her mouth.

"Damn," Cade huffs, as he eyes Colette after finishing binding Nathan's wrists to ankles. I drag her to his feet so he can do the same to her, informing him that I made her as ugly on the outside as she is rotten on the inside.

"I didn't do anything," she has the nerve to cry, begging for us to understand with outstretched, blood-filled hands. "Please." She continues as Cade begins to wrap them in rope, but he pays no mind to her performance. She's not his target.

She's mine.

"You said you knew me," I remind her, crouching on the balls of my feet, "I want you to tell me how." Nathan acknowledged Cade. He knows why we're here. I want to see if she does. If she's even given me, and what she'd done to me, a second thought, but she denies it with a shake of her head.

Lips taut, glare full of knives, she states with venom, "I took your photos."

"Is that what you did?" I hiss, feeling the blood boil inside my veins.

Clearer than she's spoken all night, Colette spits at my feet, covering my borrowed, chunky, black ankle boots in pieces of flesh and fluids. "I did you a favor."

"You set me up!"

"I gave you an opportunity!" she snarls. Looking like a victim, she sounds every bit like the predator I know she is. "We both did! Do you think you would have gotten anywhere looking like you did? You were trash. You both came from nothing. We got your feet in the door! We introduced you to the right people! It's not our fault they had a better use for you."

Baffled, I stagger back, unable to do more than whisper, "I was beaten… I was raped."

"Then that's all you deserved." The lack of remorse in her hostile tone has my breath catching in my throat. Nathan apologizes profusely, begging Cade to understand that he didn't know what would happen to us. He's only a "footman," he called himself.

I won't deny there is horror in his voice, and maybe those are genuine tears of remorse in his once-captivating eyes. Still, the company he keeps rejects any guilt, refuses to take any responsibility. To them, this is all our fault. We asked for it.

How many times have we been told that? In the months—years—we've been held captive in glittering condos or in cold, barren, stone basements.

I heard it my entire life that I was a victim of my own choices, and maybe, sure, this started that way, but Colette knew what she was doing to me, just as Nathan knew who he was handing Cade off to.

They don't get mercy for that.

They don't get mercy from me, and my Blade… I don't think there"s a merciful bone in his body anymore.

Stepping away, I see if that's true.

To my surprise, Cade cuts open Nathan's bindings. "Get up."

"Wh-what?" Nathan asks, hands and feet stuck in the same position despite the ropes falling uselessly to the floor. He waits, expecting a trap, but Cade repeats his emotionless order, going so far as to create space for him to do so.

I stand with my arms folded over my stomach, hiding the confusion knotting my brow. I tell myself that I trust Cade, but what the fuck is he doing? It seems everyone has the same question in mind, unable to stop it from showing. After a minute or so of staring, waiting for the trick, Nathan rises on shaky limbs, never taking his eyes off Cade's solid stance.

I remember how handsome Nathan seemed at the restaurant, how sophisticated and mysterious he appeared. I study him now, hunched over, crying, snot pouring out of his nose and into his mouth, and I see none of that—just a sad little man who did as he was told.

No matter the cost.

"Why me?"

Still buckling under the weight of his tears and anticipation, Nathan lifts his head slightly, asking, "What?" as if he didn't hear it clearly the first time.

"There were tons of us fighting that night," Cade goes on. "A lot of them were better than me. So why? Why did you pick me?"

The question hangs heavy in the space between them. On the one end, you have Cade, who waits in stillness, back and shoulders tense for his answer. On the other, Nathan, who pales alarmingly in response.

Before the reason why can be brought to light, Colette interjects, spewing more venom.

"Don't tell him a thing, Nathan! You don't owe this piece of trash shit."

"You would be smart to shut the fuck up. I don't hit women," Cade growls, gesturing to me, "but I won't stop her from knocking out every remaining tooth until you're nothing but gums beneath a crumbled face."

"Don't threaten me. You're nothing but a puppet who bends under other people"s word. You won't do anything but take it. Just like her."

There's not a sound in my head other than the blood rapidly whooshing through my veins. I see red as much as I feel it, burning holes in my flesh. I remember standing with my back pressed against the wall, waiting to see the outcome of Cade's questioning.

I don't know when that changed.

With a blink, my vision returns, but still, all I see is red. It coats my hands and my exposed chest. Some even dot the space above my right knee. I examine the tiny speckles, ignoring the blurred image in the background, while flashes and sounds come back in a vicious flurry.

Nothing is clear. I only catch fuzzy, distorted glimpses.

My body, full swing.

The shattering of bone.

How warm the blood feels when it splatters over every exposed surface of my skin.

I get a waft of the rich iron when Nathan's wails of terror bring me into focus.

My baton, coated in a sticky substance, dangles loosely at my side before slipping from my grip onto the once-pristine carpet. The same exhaustion that strangled around my muscles a few nights before hits me again now, only it is three times as powerful and painted in carnage.

I didn't have a plan in mind for Colette, only that she needed to be shown some of the pain I felt before granting her an end like Lakens. Like Cade, I wanted to know why me, why she said what she said—why she didn't care.

And then she kept talking. She kept hurling poison.

She came for Cade, and when my world went red, hers ended.

With Nathan's howls in the background and Cade's stillness as a solid presence behind me, I study Colette's face or all that remains of the former beauty.

Cade said he would not stop me if I decided to rip out every single remaining tooth, and he kept more than his word. Beneath the blood and fragmented flesh is a mass of bone and jelly-like pulp where Colette's face should be. The caved-in sections trickle thick droplets of crimson onto the expensive flooring while the rest of her broken pieces plop down beside her.

I try to pinpoint where her face should begin and where it should end, but it's all…mush. Breath hitching, I think to step forward but stumble back instead, horror crawling up my throat. Before I can crumble, Cade yanks me back by the elbow.

"Go into the living room," he orders in my ear, voice harsh and protective. "I'll get you when everything is done." Everything means only Nathan now, who has fallen to his knees, hands outstretched to his lover. There's a need to touch her, but his terror overtakes that. The sight of her, bound and bludgeoned, will remain with him until his life ends.

She'll remain with me as well.

"Bun. Go out there and wait."

"No," I deadpan, powerless to look away. "I'm staying." I won't leave him. I promised we'd do this together, and I have no intention of breaking that promise to him.

Grip still clenched around my elbow, he peers into my eyes, searching for any signs of doubt or fragility. There is none because it is not guilt that takes my breath away. It's astonishment.

I didn't know I had it in me.