Chapter 53 A Broken Marionette
A brOKEN MARIONETTE
Thumbs - Sabrina Carpenter
Kookaburra
We pause when we pass the greenhouse. Hatchet stops beside the roses like he’s witnessing a shrine, his fingers grazing a blood-flecked petal. He sighs something reverent and obscene at the same time. I blow him another kiss and a saucy wink this time.
But the real attraction is still waiting in the medical wing.
Bones is the first one to notice the trail. “Uh. Guys? Breadcrumbs.”
“That’s not bread,” Snow snorts derisively.
“Well it’s not not bread if you think philosophically,” I point out.
Valentine makes a strangled noise and speeds ahead.
The others follow, like they expect the building itself to lunge at me from behind.
Silly boys.
We reach the office doorway.
The smell hits first – copper and disinfectant wrestling for dominance. The room is dim except for the spill of hallway light framing the scene.
And there she is.
Doctor Callaway sits slumped in the chair like a broken marionette.
Breathing shallow.
Sweat cooling on her skin.
Blood puddling under her, slow and faithful.
Her hands tremble. Some nails lifted, the others intact for now. Her thigh wound seeps through the bandage in a patient, rhythmic bloom.
She’s alive.
Barely.
Just how I left her.
The boys halt as one body. Nightshade inhales like he’s smelling a crime scene written in my handwriting. Bones goes “holy fuck.” But his voice is laced with pride. Hatchet’s lips part in a delighted, silent laugh. Ghost narrows his eyes, committing the details to memory. Snow laughs outright.
Valentine crosses himself and slaps a hand over his mouth. “She’s— She’s— Kayla, she’s—”
“Alive,” I say brightly. “You’re welcome. And if you didn’t figure it out yet, it was her who got me off the island.”
Fuck. I said, got me off. Not took me. Not abducted or kidnapped. Got. Like it was planned all along. My first slip-up. But no one seems to notice it.
Bones turns to me slowly. “What did she do to deserve this?”
I cock my head. “Let’s see. Manipulated. Lied. Drugged me. Tried to sell my uterus to the Director’s hobby group? Honestly, she’s lucky I’m feeling whimsical. They were going to take my baby.”
Nightshade steps closer to the doctor, crouching with a predator’s poise.
“You touched her,” he murmurs. The violence in his tone makes me shiver with delight.
My nipples instantly harden and I’m suddenly reminded of just how long its been since I got fucked.
I glance over at Hatchet who’s smirking knowingly at me. Too many minutes that’s for sure.
The doctor’s eyes crack open. She sees him. She sees them.
And then she sees me.
“P—please—” she whispers. “Don’t…leave…”
“Oh darling,” I say sweetly, “that’s what notes are for.”
Valentine rounds on the others. “We have to call emergency services—”
“No,” Nightshade says without rising. “We don’t.”
Bones lifts a shoulder. “Natural consequences.”
“I mean…she does look like she was asking for it,” Honeymonster points out diplomatically.
Ghost studies her with clinical detachment. “Donnelly says she’ll live long enough to be found by the people who need to find her. That’s all that matters.”
Hatchet reaches out and grabs a pan, scrawling on a loose sheet of paper on the desk. He gets me, so I know what he’s telling the others: Kayla left message. Not our business.
I’m delighted.
“See? My men are so supportive. I missed you.”
Nightshade rises then, stands in front of me, and cups the back of my neck like I’ll evaporate if he uses less than two hands.
“We’re leaving,” he says, voice made of gravel and worship.
“Yes,” I say. “Before the fire suppression decides to have an identity crisis.”
The alarms cough again overhead.
Perfect timing.
A van waits outside like an obedient animal, engine still warm, doors left ajar because someone ran from it in a hurry.
We pile in with the smooth choreography of people who’ve escaped worse disasters than this.
Honeymonster drives and Snow takes shotgun. Hatchet and Ghost jump in the back row like bodyguards assigned by an unhinged god.
Nightshade claims the seat beside me, thigh pressed against mine, one hand splayed low on my stomach with proprietary calm and Bones takes my other side, in a move that surprises and thrills me. Oh the memories it brings back, being sandwiched between these two…
Valentine attempts to climb in—
“No,” I say.
He freezes. “What? Why—”
“You worked with the enemy for years,” I say sweetly. “I don’t know why you’re here or what your angle is, but we’re not going back. Go wait with the dead bodies. Call an uber. I don’t care. Reflect. Pray. Beg for absolution of your sins. You’ll need it.”
Nightshade doesn’t argue. He reaches over me and Bones, shuts the door in Valentine’s face, and clicks the lock.
Honey hits the gas.
The vehicle tears down the access road as the facility behind us groans, stutters, and begins its slow mechanical death. Smoke curls up the left side of the facade. A window bursts outward and the ground shakes with the force of the blast. The world trembles like something shedding its skin.
I lean back against the seat and sigh dramatically. “Well. That was exhausting. I deserve a treat.”
Bones glances over at me, his expression knowing and sly. “What kind of treat?”
“The orgasm kind,” I say.
The car swerves as Honey swears. “Jesus – warn a man!”
Hatchet spins and grins at me, mouthing something that I’m assuming translates to I volunteer as tribute.
Bones coughs violently. Ghost goes utterly still, which is his version of blushing. Nightshade makes a sound low in his chest that could resurrect the dead.
“Now?” Bones sputters.
“Well yes,” I say, offended he even asked. “I spent four weeks being poked and prodded by people with degrees and no imagination. I’ve earned a little positive reinforcement.”
Nightshade turns fully toward me, pupils a blown-black eclipse. “You want someone to touch you.”
“I want several someones to touch me,” I say honestly. “Preferably at once. And I’m choosing now because if we get ambushed later, I’ll be in a terrible mood.”
“I cannot listen to this while operating heavy machinery,” Honey grumbles from the front. “Wait. Please.”
“I absolutely can,” Snow replies.
“Define ‘at once’,” Ghost demands.
Hatchet sighs.
“Drive faster. She’s impatient.” Bones laughs.
Nightshade strokes my thigh once, very slowly. “Who do you want first?”
“Oh, honey,” I purr, patting his cheek. “You think we’re doing this in the car?” I grin. “No. We go find a hotel. We get a key. And then you all follow me inside like good boys.”
Nightshade’s voice drops to a growl. “And if we’re not good?”
I bare my teeth. “Then I’ll teach you how to be.”
The SUV erupts into chaos. Snow howling and Hatchet laughing silently, Bones stretching his neck like he’s preparing for war, Ghost rolling up his sleeves with quiet intent, Honeymonster begging God for strength, and Nightshade—
Nightshade watches me like a man who just found religion and wants to sin with it.
I settle back again, satisfied.
“Drive,” I say. “Your girl is tired. And horny. And hungry. In that order.”
Honey floors it.
Ahead, the night stretches open like a promise.
Behind? The facility burns.