39. Chapter 38
Chapter 38
River
I watch the surprise and confusion cross Rayne's face, her eyes widening as she takes in the sight before us. Even I have to admit, seeing this woman tied up here surprises me. I shoot a look at Knox, raising an eyebrow in silent question. He gives me a subtle nod, confirming that this is no mistake.
Lacy sits bound to a metal chair in the center of the dimly lit room, her wrists and ankles secured with zip ties. A strip of duct tape covers her mouth, muffling what I assume are protests or pleas. Her usually perfectly styled blonde hair is disheveled, mascara streaks her cheeks, evidence of recent tears.
How we missed that one of Rayne's clients had become obsessed with her and started stalking her was beyond me. A week of her little "surprises" was a week too many. We should have seen this coming, should have caught on sooner. The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
I look back at the woman, really studying her now. Lacy's designer clothes are rumpled, her silk blouse partially untucked from her pencil skirt. There's a wild, desperate look in her eyes as they dart between the three of us.
My mind races, piecing together the puzzle. Lacy had been overly enthusiastic when I had watched her visit the studio both times I saw her. And both times she had lingered a little too long outside the studio.
She has focused her pleading eyes on Rayne. Knox strides over to her and peels off the tape from her mouth in one swift motion. Lacy wastes no time in trying to plead with Rayne, her voice hoarse and trembling.
"Rayne! Oh thank God you're here!" Lacy cries, her words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "I don't understand what's happening. Why are they doing this to me? Please, you have to help me!"
I have to hand it to her, she's good. Her performance is almost flawless, each word dripping with fear and desperation. Her blue eyes, wide and brimming with unshed tears, are fixed solely on Rayne. It's as if Knox and I don't even exist in her world right now.
I watch as Lacy's words wash over Rayne, her desperate pleas tugging at the compassionate heart I know beats within our girl's chest. Rayne's eyes cloud with doubt, her brow furrowing as she tries to reconcile the sobbing woman before her with the stalker who's been tormenting her.
"I-I don't understand," Lacy continues, her voice quavering. "I had only just gotten home and was making myself a tea when that man," she nods towards Knox, her eyes never leaving Rayne's face, "broke in and grabbed me. He tied me up and brought me down here to this... this basement. Rayne, please, you have to believe me!"
Her act is impressive, I'll give her that. The tremor in her voice, the way her body shakes with apparent fear, it's all very convincing. If I didn't know better, I might be swayed myself. But I do know better, and I can see the cracks in her facade.
There's a glint in her eyes that doesn't match her terrified words. A hint of calculation behind the tears. It's subtle, but it's there. I wonder if Rayne can see it too.
I glance at Knox, seeing the same thoughts reflected in his eyes. He catches my gaze, a silent communication passing between us. Then, with a small huff of laughter, he speaks.
"That's funny," Knox says, his voice low and dangerous, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "You seem to be forgetting the part where you laughed and said you hoped River and I would die slow, painful deaths."
Lacy's eyes widen, a picture of wounded innocence. "No! That's not true!" she cries, her voice pitched high with desperation. "Rayne, please, you can't believe them. They're lying!"
I watch the scene unfold, fascinated by the interplay of emotions flickering across both women's faces. Lacy’s performance is Oscar-worthy, each trembling word and tearful glance carefully calculated to elicit sympathy.
My gaze shifts to Rayne, and I feel a surge of pride and affection. The doubt that had clouded her eyes mere moments ago is rapidly clearing, like storm clouds parting to reveal a brilliant sky. Her jaw sets, a steely determination replacing the uncertainty that had briefly flickered across her beautiful features.
It's reassuring to see how quickly Rayne's faith in us solidifies. All it took was a single word from Knox to tip the scales, to remind her of the unshakeable trust that binds us together. In that moment, I fall even deeper in love with her, if such a thing is possible.
Rayne takes a step closer to Lacy, her movements slow and deliberate. There's a new energy about her now, a predatory grace that sends a thrill down my spine. This is a side of Rayne we've only glimpsed before, and seeing it emerge fully is intoxicating.
"You know, Lacy," Rayne says, her voice calm and controlled, "I've always prided myself on my ability to read people. It's part of what makes me good at what I do.”
As Rayne speaks, I watch the facade melt away from Lacy like wax under a flame. The trembling lip stills, the wide-eyed innocence fades, replaced by something altogether more sinister. It's as if a mask has been lifted, revealing the true face beneath, and it's not a pretty sight.
I reach down and lift my pants leg, my fingers wrapping around the familiar grip of the knife strapped there. The blade slides free with a soft whisper of steel against leather, the weight comforting in my palm. It's the same knife I used in the alley the other night, when I saved Rayne from that would-be attacker. The memory of how easily the blade sank into flesh, how warm blood coated my glove, sends a delicious shiver down my spine.
The knife is a vicious thing, designed for one purpose and one purpose only. Its serrated edge gleams dully in the dim light, promising pain and suffering to whoever feels its bite. I begin to circle them, my movements slow and deliberate, like a shark scenting blood in the water.
Lacy's eyes narrow, the fear and desperation replaced by a cold, calculating gleam. Her lips twist into a snarl, baring her teeth in a feral grin that sends a chill through me. Now revealing the true face of madness that had been lurking just beneath the surface.
"You're right, Rayne. You are good at reading people. But not good enough, it seems. Not good enough to see what was right in front of you all this time," Lacy hisses, her voice dripping with venom.
"You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment. To finally show you who I really am, Rayne.” She leans forward in her chair, straining against her bonds. "I've watched you for months, you know. Followed your every move. Did you like my little gifts? The photos? The messages? I put so much thought into each one. I wanted them to be perfect."
A low growl builds in my chest as I listen to her deranged ranting. My grip tightens on the knife, knuckles white around the handle. I dart forward and press the tip of the blade against Lacy's sternum, just hard enough to dimple the skin beneath her silk blouse.
"Do we really need to know anything else?" I snarl, my voice rough with barely contained fury. "Or can I kill this bitch now?"
Knox tilts his head, considering. His eyes are cold and calculating as he regards Lacy. "We could always pass this off as another victim of the serial killer," he muses. "What do you think, Rayne?”
Rayne's eyes slide to Knox, and I see a twinkle of humor dancing in their sapphire depths. "I mean, sure, we could," she says with a nonchalant shrug, her tone light and casual as if we're discussing dinner plans rather than murder.
Knox steps closer to her, his imposing frame towering over her curvy figure. The contrast between them is striking–his dark, dangerous intensity against her soft femininity.
His large hand comes up, the backs of his fingers brushing tenderly against Rayne's cheek. The gentleness of the gesture is at odds with the predatory gleam in his eyes. "Are you done playing games yet, baby girl?" he asks softly, his gravelly voice barely above a whisper.
A wicked little grin spreads across Rayne's beautiful lips, transforming her face. It's a look I've never seen on her before–equal parts mischief and darkness, innocence and sin. Her eyes sparkle with a dangerous light, like the glint of a knife in the shadows. That grin speaks of hidden depths, of secrets and desires long kept buried. It's a promise and a challenge all at once.
I feel my breath catch in my throat at the sight. This–this right here–is my new favorite look on her. It's like watching the final piece of a complex puzzle slide into place, revealing the full, glorious picture we've only glimpsed hints of before.
The air in the room seems to shift, crackling with an electric tension. Rayne's transformation is palpable, her energy changing from uncertain victim to confident predator in the blink of an eye.
Rayne's eyes sparkle with mischief as she looks up at Knox through her lashes. "With you? Never..." she purrs, her voice low and sultry. The tension in the room shifts.
Knox huffs out a soft laugh, shaking his head slightly. His eyes dance with amusement and something darker, more primal. "Can we at least all stop pretending like we don't know you're the one killing off our targets in very public ways?"
The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. For a moment, the only sound is Lacy's ragged breathing and the soft hum of the overhead light.
Rayne raises an eyebrow, her grin widening impossibly further. The expression transforms her face further, revealing the predator that's always lurked beneath her sweet exterior. It's like watching a flower unfurl its petals, only to reveal razor-sharp thorns hidden within.
"Well," she drawls, each word dripping with dark humor, "you weren't making a move. You had been stalking me for months and still hadn't done anything. What was a girl to do?"
Her words send a thrill through me. The casual way she admits to her kills, the playful challenge in her tone–it's intoxicating. I feel a surge of pride and desire, marveling at how perfectly she fits with us. This beautiful, deadly creature who's been dancing on the edge of darkness all along, waiting for us to catch up.
Knox's eyes darken with desire, his pupils dilating as he drinks in the sight of Rayne's transformation. A slow, predatory smile spreads across his face, matching her wicked grin. The tension in the room ratchets up another notch, crackling like electricity in the air.
"You knew we were stalking you this whole time?" Knox asks, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine. "Did you know who I was the whole time?"
Rayne tilts her head, regarding Knox with an expression that suggests he should have realized the obvious by now. Her eyes dance with mischief and dark humor as she lets the silence stretch, savoring the moment.
"Oh, Knox," she purrs, her voice rich with amusement. "Do you think I moved to this town for the scenery?" She pauses, letting her words sink in before continuing. "Or that I just randomly chose to frequent a bakery a block from the police station on the opposite side of town?"
A bark of laughter escapes me before I can stop it. This is absolutely delicious. I move the knife away from our captive, bringing it up to my lips as I hum and send a wicked grin toward Knox and Rayne. As much as I want to carve Lacy up, I already know what Knox is thinking–we need a scapegoat, and Lacy is the perfect volunteer.
I turn toward Knox and Rayne, my eyes glinting with mischief. "You're going to take away my fun, aren't you?" I ask, my voice a playful whine that belies the darkness lurking beneath.
Knox's lips twitch, fighting back a smile. "Sorry, River," he says, not sounding sorry at all. "But you have to admit, this is too perfect an opportunity to pass up."
I sigh dramatically, twirling the knife between my fingers with practiced ease. The blade catches the dim light, sending little flashes across the room. "I suppose you're right," I concede, my tone mock-reluctant. "It would be a shame to waste such a golden opportunity."
Rayne's eyes follow the movement of the knife, her gaze hungry and appreciative. There's no fear in her expression, only a dark fascination that makes my blood sing. She steps closer to me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from her body.
"Don't worry, darling," she purrs, her voice low and sultry. "I have a feeling we're going to have plenty of fun together very soon."
Her words send a shiver of anticipation down my spine. The promise in her tone, the wicked glint in her eye–it's fucking hot.
Knox reaches behind his back, his movements fluid and practiced. When it reappears it’s gripping a beautiful black gun, the metal gleaming dully in the dim light. He levels it at Lacy, his aim steady and unwavering.
"We can plant some evidence," Knox says, his voice low and controlled. "Zeke can help set up the tech side of things. Make it look like you resisted arrest, had a weapon of your own."
I nod, understanding the implication. "I may need to lose my knife, wipe it down and make sure hers are the only prints found on it," I say, a hint of regret in my tone. "But I'm sure you'll buy me a nice, sexy new one to replace it."
Knox's lips twitch in the barest hint of a smile. "Of course," he murmurs. "Only the best for you, baby."
Rayne tilts her head, a playful pout forming on her lush lips. She huffs softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I mean, at least she gave me flowers," she says, her tone a perfect blend of mock indignation and dark humor.
I can't help but grin at her words, my heart swelling with adoration for this beautifully twisted woman. I turn to face her fully, my eyes locking with hers. "I will happily give you flowers every day if you want, gorgeous," I purr, my voice low and seductive. "Would you like them from my left hand or my right?"
With a flourish, I raise both hands, palms facing towards me, showcasing the intricate tattoos that adorn the backs of them. Delicate peonies and sprigs of lavender intertwine across my skin, their petals and stems flowing seamlessly. The flowers are rendered in exquisite detail, each petal lovingly shaded to create depth and texture. Soft dusky pinks and purples dominate the design, with greys and hints of dark green providing a natural contrast.
I remember the day I got these tattoos, not long after I discovered Rayne's favorite flowers. The artist had looked at me strangely when I requested flowers on my hands, but I didn't care. I wanted to carry a piece of Rayne with me always, even before she knew who I was.
Her gaze traces every delicate petal, every carefully shaded leaf. The wonder in her expression is breathtaking—it's like I've just offered her the moon and stars, or blood diamonds.
I shift to the side so Knox can take care of Lacy so we can go home. I’ll let her look at them all she wants before I wrap them around her pretty throat while I fuck her.
But what happens next catches us all off guard.
Lacy throws her head back and laughs.
It's not the nervous giggle of someone facing death, nor the hysterical cackle of a mind unhinged by fear. No, this is a full-bodied, genuine laugh. The sound echoes off the bare walls, filling the small space.
Knox tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at our captive. His finger tightens imperceptibly on the trigger, but he doesn't fire. Not yet.
When Lacy finally calms, she shakes her head, a sardonic smile playing at her lips. "You seem to be missing a tiny detail," she says, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "I may have delivered all those little presents, but they weren't from me."
As though she timed it perfectly, in the silence that follows her words, we hear noises from upstairs. A muffled voice, calling out and getting louder as it approaches. Whoever it is, they're coming down toward the basement.
The atmosphere in the room shifts instantly. Knox's grip on his gun tightens, his knuckles turning white. My body tenses and I pull out my own gun, aiming it toward the basement door.
But it's Rayne's reaction that truly catches my attention. Something shifts on her gorgeous face, a flicker of... something? Her eyes widen slightly, a mix of emotions swirling in their depths–surprise, confusion, and something else I can't quite place.
The footsteps grow louder, echoing in the stairwell outside. A shadow passes across the small, grimy window in the door. The handle turns with an ominous creak.
As the door swings open, light from the stairwell spills into the room, momentarily blinding us. A silhouette fills the doorway, tall and imposing.
"Well, well, well," a deep voice drawls.
It’s then I realize what the other emotion is as it fills her face and I want to set the world on fire; it’s fear.
Her voice is barely audible but it makes me murderous. “Dad?”