31. BUNNY

"It's getting late, Bun. Maybe we should call it and get some sleep. We can try some other night."

"No." I nod, fingernail between my teeth, eyes locked on the back exit. "It has to be tonight. You don't understand. This is probably our only chance, Cade! When is an opportunity like this going to happen for us again? It's not! It has to be now."

"Alright. Alright. I wasn't trying to talk you out of this. We're going to get this fucker. I was just… I don't know. Maybe we could have a normal night together. We could eat, laugh…dance. It would be nice." Grabbing my hand, he takes my finger from my mouth, licking away the blood from a cut cuticle before peppering it with kisses. "Don't you think?"

I melt at the idea, picturing the two of us completely concealed within the New York crowd. "I would love that," I admit, taking his hand to return the kiss. "But after. Once these fuckers are gone. Then we'd have no one to worry about. Nothing tying us to this life."

The smile remains on his lips, but I don't miss the slight drop. "Okay, Bun."

The drop in the conversation leaves me hollow. I feel so fucking shitty for disappointing him, but I just… I can't walk away from this. We're right here. He's right here. I can't let him slip through my fingers.

The gala goes on well into the night. Music never dies, laughs never cease, and nobody leaves. We've waited in the shadows behind the convention center for hours, watching the staff going in and out for their smoke break. With a lit cigarette in between their fingers and trash in the other hand, we listen to their conversations about the chaos inside, how the alcohol flows. How there's much more going on inside than the charitable affairs they've all gathered for.

"Did you see Mayor Williams?!" the young server exclaims, a nervous giggle trapped behind her fingers. "He was all over that young girl! He wouldn't let her off his lap, even when her father, Councilman Aarons,. came!"

Their hushed chatter falls silent when they finish their break. Never once did they look around to see if anyone was listening. If they had, they would have noticed me lingering around the corner, face on fire from rage. Even surrounded by all those people, people in power—people who could stop him—he does what he wants.

"What is it?" Cade asks when I swing back around, taking in the look on my face.

"He's still doing shit! In front of fucking all of them!"

"Are you surprised?" he asks, sharpening his blade against the edge of the brick wall. "Half of the people who ruined us are probably inside."

Hearing that, the truth of his words, sets my skin ablaze. I have to crouch and lean my head against the wall to keep my cool, but when I close my eyes, I see all the things I wish I could do. So clearly, I visualize barging inside the glorious hall and gutting all the men whose faces I remember. I picture Marone standing in the center of it all, a devil in the midst of the madness he created. His smile is as clear in my memory as I know it would be in person. That's what makes me sick, how easy he is to remember.

"Ohshit. You okay?" Cade asks when I vomit a puddle in front of my feet. I ignore his concern and the gentle caress of his hand on my back with an angry shake of my head.

"Do you remember him?"

"Who?"

"Marone. Do you remember him as clearly as I do? The power in his suited shoulders when he looked down on us. Th-the glimmer in his eyes whenever one of us went down crying. The?—"

"The smirk he had when we begged…his laugh when we cried. Yeah," Cade confirms with darkness in his tone. "I remember it all."

We remain as we are, with me hunched with my knees to my chin. Cade's touch never strays. We stay, and we remember every detail. "I want to watch that spark die."

"You will, Bun, and then we can rest." It sounds like a dream, but to get there, we have to live through a nightmare.

"This shit is taking too long. Come on." He removes his hand from my back and takes me by the wrist. An urgent Cade forces me out of my curled position, and together, we travel to the end of the inky, unlit alley.

Abruptly, we come to a stop. "What are we doing?" I ask after I stumble into his back. Somewhere intermixed with the noise of the party, I hear the slight sound of talking. Not tall enough to peer over his shoulder, I poke my head beneath his arm, taking in the long line of sleek, black Rolls-Royce vehicles, specifically the one right in front.

In thick black lettering, the name WILLIAMS is posted on a sign against the front windshield. The driver, a middle-aged man in a tightly fitted cap, lies against his seat, an extended porno magazine stretched before his face.

Hustler's Barely Legal keeps him occupied with a hand down his pants as Cade and I slink to the unseen side of his car. No one pays us any mind, and he's too slow to react when Cade opens the passenger door. I don't think the driver notices me when I jump into the back, too focused on the man with a knife.

"He-hey, listen," he starts, a slight quiver to his tone, "I don't need any trouble." He expected his talking to be a perfect diversion, but I see his hand slip between the seat, fingers wrapping around the handle of a gun.

"Cade—" I whisper-shout, but he doesn't need my warning.

There's no sound but wet, bubbling gurgles as blood sputters from his lips. Cade was quick with it, jabbing the blade deep into his carotid and across his throat before anyone could even blink. He rips it out with the same swift ferocity, forcing the driver to release the gun and try to stop the flow.

While he struggles, Cade takes him by the collar of his suit and throws him onto the passenger floor, quickly taking his seat behind the wheel.

"Warm, my lady?" he laughs, gazing at me through the mirror. Sprawled across the backseat, I nod blissfully, actually highly comfortable on the blanket-covered leather. Pleased, Cade stares ahead, waiting for who-knows-what while I examine the gold embroidery on the black fleece material. The yarn loops in glamorous, delicate swirls, spelling the initials B.W.

I see his name and almost throw the comfort off me, wanting nothing of him to touch my skin again. But at the last moment, I hold on tight, desiring to take everything I can from him before stealing his breath.

* * *

The night trickles away, the darkness getting deeper by the moment. A few times, I've found myself nodding off, finally finding some peace before more bloodshed, but jerk myself awake before I fall too far down.

"It's okay," Cade says to me. "Go to sleep. I'll wake you up if anything changes." So far, nothing has. We've been in the same position for hours, facing the same dark alley we snuck out of.

"That's alright," I groan, rolling onto the car floor to kneel between the seats. Cade looks down at me with a tired smile, leaning in for a kiss when I extend toward him. An obnoxious, bristling static interrupts us before our lips can touch, the sound of a man's distant, grainy voice coming through from beside me.

"Reynolds," the voice calls out from a radio clipped to the deceased driver"s side, "bring the car 'round to the rear exit. He needs to slip out without being noticed by the vultures in the front. They'd have a fucking field day with this one."

The line goes dead without waiting for a response. We listen to the empty noise on the other side of the radio before starting the car and turning the corner into the alley. Any trace of the playfulness on his face moments ago vanishes as he pulls ahead of the back entrance.

"Get on the floor or something," he says. "Don't let anyone see you." I look around the backseat, but there aren't many places to hide. Over the chairs, I see a small gap leading into the trunk. I scurry off the floor and into the cramped space just as the service door throws open.

Through the sliver of darkness, I listen to the loud, drunken words coming closer to me. When the back driver-side door flings, I suppress my hiss and the need to choke him right there.

"I don't want to go!" Williams garbles, head knocking against the headrest. The door closes on him before he can finish complaining, but the swearing continues on the outside. Through the radio, it was impossible to tell, but it's evident on the other side of the glass that the guard who's supposed to be protecting our dear mayor is drunk off his ass too.

"Take him back to the room," the guard grumbles, slapping the hood of the car. Before he slips through the entrance completely, he turns back around, exclaiming louder than needed. "But come back within the next few hours for Mrs. Williams. She's not ready to leave yet. Old bitch." The last part is whispered while slipping away, but we hear it all the same.

"Old bitch," Mayor Williams cackles, shaking the car with vigor. Hating the sound, I start to rise, ready to end this night by clawing out his vocal cords. Cade spots me in the mirror and gives me a subtle shake of his head.

Wait.

It pains me to do so, but I do. Thankfully, it isn't for long. Within twenty minutes of the car in motion, we come to a complete stop. "What's going on?" Mayor Williams asks, just as the trunk pops open, but I don't hear any response when I climb out.

Keeping our eyes linked, Cade unlocks the car, jerking his head to signal me to jump inside. I do upon his green light, grinning when they immediately reengage. Mayor Williams harrumphs in confusion when I slip into the space beside him, but that look quickly fades when I crawl into his lap.

"Remember me?" I ask in a low tone, ignoring Cade's irritated cough from the front. "We spent a long night together."

"Did we?" Williams smirks, his hands coming from his sides to rest on my jean-covered hips. I swallow the bile that pools on the tip of my tongue when those fingers curl inwards toward my center. His touch is too familiar. I could almost guarantee what he's going to do next.

"Tell me first," I hiss, clawing into his traveling hands. "Do you remember me?"

"No, baby," he laughs, attempting to overpower my halt and resume his progress to the center of me. What he fails to realize is that I'm not the same shattered foster he paid for.

I'm so much worse.

"Look at me," I demand, pressing my chest against his and dropping my chin so he can look nowhere but deep into my eyes. There's a small light hanging above us from the streetlamp, but its glow isn't needed. Not when my scars are so easily seen.

The one he left me is right in front of him, the deep indent of his ring embedded into my lips. He was proud of it then, but gazing at it now, there's a drip of terror.

Sobriety hits him quick when he starts to piece me together. Swiftly, Williams sets to yank his hands off me, but my nails pin him in place.

"Wh-what are you doing here? You shouldn't be out."

"Where should I be, then? Hmm? Back in those rooms? Maybe with your dick in my ass." His gulp is louder than the spitting sputters making their way past his flat lips. Before he can try to form a coherent response, I tilt my head to the side, giving him a clean, clear view of Cade.

He was scared of me, but he's horrified of the man in the front seat. All his words leave him. The same goes for the flush that was working its way past his neck.

"Oh, come on now!" I shout with joy, digging my nails in just an inch deeper. "Don't be so scared. What's the worst that could happen?"

I'm pleased to find out he knows the worst, exactly.

"You killed Colette and Nathan. Were you the cop killer, too?"

"I don't know, Mayor Williams," I mutter with no remorse. "Did he deserve it?"

I follow when he dips his head, needing to see the truth reflected in his stare. There's only so far he can go without throwing me off. I'm sure it's the alcohol that makes him so pliable beneath me, but I applaud him for continuing to try.

"I have money!" he throws out carelessly when he can't escape my glare, expecting me to fold for something as silly as paper. I wonder, though, how many girls did that work on? How many has he needed to pay off for their silence?

I'll act in their favor. I'll fight for us all.

"Cade."

"Yeah, Bun?" he says with a slight, husky drawl. I look for him over my shoulder, feeling butterflies and piercing knives dancing around my stomach when I catch the glimmer in his burning gaze. His excitement pours down my spine in ways that fill me with insatiable need. How much more can I get if I make him proud?

"Bla-Cade. Cade, listen," Williams begins to stutter. I use his rambling as a distraction, releasing one hand to reach behind me. "You- you were a prize to us! We-we treated you good!"

"I was your fucking dog," Cade spits. "You're lucky the cage kept me away from you."

Bouncing his terrified stare among us, he realizes that's not the case anymore. The only thing standing between them is me. Unfortunately for him, I'm no savior.

At least not his.

"Woah! Wait! Hold on, hold on, hold on! You don't want to do this! Just calm down!"

Pressing the blade Cade slipped into my palm against Mayor Williams's dick, I rasp, "Why should I?"

"B-b-because I can help you! I can help you! Whatever you need, I can get in an instant!"

Feeling his pulse beneath the tips of my fingers, I ponder his tremoring statement. "Anything?"

"Anything!" he cries, chest heaving, eyes falling to the knife. "Anything. Please, just…don't kill me."

"Where is he?" That's all I want. "Where is Marone?"

The fear that was starting to dim returns to its original brightness when he understands what I'm asking. His shaking head is the beginning of his answer, but it takes Williams a minute to say it out loud. "I can't do that."

I match his disappointing response with disappointing actions, ensuring to nick the tip of his softened dick when I puncture his dress pants.

"No! No! Wait! Please! Please! Please! You have to understand! He'll kill me!"

"So will I." But there's a hint of doubt in his eyes, one bright enough to let me know he doesn't believe me. Maybe he thinks Cade killed the others all on his own. Two, he did, but Colette was mine. So I pull out one of her teeth to show him so.

Shoving it between his quivering lips, I hiss, "I want Marone. You want to live? You get me to him." Maybe it was the tooth that got him to see reason. Perhaps it's the added pressure of the knife against his cock. Either way, I win.

Past blubbering lips, Mayor Williams gives us the address to Marone's South Hampton home, claiming he wouldn't know anywhere else to find him.

"And the apartments? The one he pimps us out of. Where are they?" His exhale comes out as a broken, hiccupping cry, but he gives us that, too. Craning my neck, I check to see if Cade got it all, pleased when I spot a pen and napkin in his hand.

"Is that it?! Can I- Can I go now?!"

My hair, falling in natural waves, swishes over his shaking knuckles. He would have loved this feeling at any moment other than this one. "Why do you do it?"

Eyes on the shadowed strands, he gives himself a brisk shake, almost as if to pull himself out of a trance. When he lifts his head, his watery, bagged gaze finds mine immediately. "Do what?"

"You know what. But if you need to hear the words, why do you fuck children? Why do you torture them?" The end comes out with a roughened bite, but I just can't contain myself. "You have a wife, the looks to screw whoever you want, and enough money to pay for every hooker you pass. So why children?" I ask, "Why me?"

He stares at me with a dumb look on his face, mouth agape like he can't believe I'd ask. I think, for a moment, he hoped I'd change my mind and say forget it and shake my ass out of the car. With a smile, I shove the knife in, this time breaking a chunk of skin.

His anguished wails rattle the car, so I slap him across the face and shove my fist down his throat before I ask again. "Why. Me?"

I remove my hand an inch at a time, only enough to understand. But out of all the things he could have said, I don't think I was prepared for his response.

"I'm sick! I'm sick! I'm sick!" He bawls, "I can't stop myself!" And then he does the craziest thing of all.

"I'm sorry!" Flinging himself into my chest, Mayor Williams cries down my cleavage. The same man who taunted me, punched me—held me, face against the blood-stained mattress, and forced his fully erect cock past my asshole's opening—clings to me and begs for mercy. For the chance to do better.

The shakes racking his form give me a moment of doubt. Looking back at Cade, I let the question silently pass through us.

Is this real?

Could he really be sorry?

And then I face forward and gaze down at the back of his head. It's almost the same view I had when he pinned me onto the bed. My hands clawed at the fingers that held me down while his mouth left a trail of spit across my body. There was a moment when he raised his head, but it was only to give me that award-winning smile I had seen on the TV. The sight of the back of his head returned, and I felt one of the worst pains of my life. He bit my breast like a beast, and the next time he lifted his head, it was to show me the stain of blood around his teeth.

So I ask myself, could he really be sorry?

I answer my own question by plunging the remainder of the blade straight through the other side. Before he can take that view away, I do it again. And again. And again. I ram that knife into his groin until it's mush between my legs. When the squelch and pulp aren't enough, I bring the blade higher, slicing, stabbing, opening, and gutting. I don't realize I've gone too far until the handle slips from my grip, bouncing off the seat onto the floor.

Heaving, I stare ahead and take in what I've done, carefully examining the man I've turned into chunks. Mayor Williams's face is still perfect, minus the splashes of slaughter and eyes cracked open. It's his chest and below that are no longer human. Very much like Colette, it"s indistinguishable to tell where one section of him starts and where another ends. Everything is a mess of blood, guts, meat, and bone, all piled and spilling onto the seats beside him. I look down and see that I'm covered in him as well.

At least it's different from the first time.

"Well, fuck."

Jumping off the mayor's lap, I scuttle into the front seat, eyeing the blood that drenches my hands. I feel nothing but the stickiness on my skin and a new quiet inside my mind. Shifting, I look over my shoulder, studying the mess I made, searching for any guilt.

Instead, I feel some peace.

"I think I'm a monster."

Taking my blood-coated left hand, Cade kisses my knuckles. "And whose fault is that?" He looks between the seats, casually glancing at the deceased with butchery on his lips, reminding me of who helped to create this.

I'm still taking it in when the car begins to move. With a smirk on his red mouth, Cade cruises through the alley, fingers fiddling with the stereo until he reaches a station he likes. "Where are we going?"

"Well, we can't sit there with you looking like that and him…" like that.

I can't argue, but I can't go somewhere and just relax. Something is bustling inside me, something stirring deep in the hollows of my bones, making me unsettled—making me sick.

"I want this done."

Flicking me a glance, he lifts a brow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," I sigh, throwing my spine into the rough leather of the seat, "I find a sliver of peace with every one of them gone. Don't you?"

"Yes," he utters through a tense jaw, sickness riddled across his features. "I can breathe with their blood on my hands."

"We only have one left—only one who really matters," I say, as the streetlights dance along our shadowed faces. "We could be done. We can feel full again…we can go home. We just need one more." The conviction I feel inside turns my stomach sour. I clench my fists, balling my sticky nails into the blood crusting in the crevices of my palm. I need this to be over. I need to feel clean.

Breathing through slightly parted lips, Cade's tired stare falls on me. "And then we can rest?"

"Until the end."