Chapter 16 Cade #2
“How does that feel?” she snarls, teeth bared, eyes wild, spit dotting the corner of her lips.
I want to lick it up—taste the beast inside her—but the need for Lakens to see her is too strong to ignore.
Pulling on the lamp string, I brighten the space, hoping to see the instant recognition on his face.
His wife doesn’t grant me the opportunity.
Sprinting from the bed, she darts to the door, forcing me from my front-row seat.
“No,” I hiss, catching her around the waist, “you can’t run away just yet.” Her flailing body is no issue, but when she goes to bite my arm, I send her soaring, bouncing dangerously close to the edge of the bed.
She begins shrieking, “We don’t have anything for you! Leave!” She repeats that until she finds her footing, and then she fumbles on her side, checking on her wounded husband. She eyes us as well, malice dripping from her snarl.
Bunny, with her knuckles white from her grip, sneers in return. “You’re wrong,” she spits, “you have exactly what I need.”
“W-What?” This time, it’s Lakens who joins in, confusion lacing his muffled tone. “What do you—” but then he stops, finally getting it. “How the fuck did you get here?” he sputters around the baton, rage tangling his words. “Get the fuck out of my house!”
But my girl, she’s in a playful mood. “Shhh,” she whispers, thrusting the club against the inside of his cheek. “I don’t want to fucking hear you.”
“Then what the fuck do you want?!” the wife shouts next, a little braver than before. Bunny turns to look at her, with a look so unhinged that I feel the need to take a step back.
In a voice so low, it’s chilling, Bunny utters, “I want your husband.” Pushing the club in deeper, “I want him to feel what I did.” A little harder now. “I want to pay him back for all he gave me.”
“Fuck you!” Lakens roars, choking on the club, but it’s his wife that I’m focused on, her face, falling with worry.
“What are you talking about?” she asks, but she knows.
I fucking know she does. Her color drains, her hands shake, and she looks to the door.
Not to escape this time, though. No, she’s looking for Sophie because she knows.
This sick fucking bitch knows what he’s doing to her, and she just lets it happen.
Just like the fucking rest of them.
I want nothing more than to jump over this bed and rip her heart out of her chest, but then Bunny stumbles, her words breaking underneath the swell of emotion. I remain still for her despite the itch I have beneath my skin. I hold strong, locking in on her watery eyes.
Don’t fucking cry, baby, I mentally demand, hoping my stare conveys the message. Don’t you give them the fucking satisfaction.
Taking a deep breath, Bunny hears me loud and clear, regaining her strength. And even though the words still come out strangled, she says them anyway. “Your husband raped me seven times. All in the same night. The night of your wedding.”
“You’re a liar.” Mmm, but we all know she’s not. “You got the wrong house,” the wife continues to deny, “because he was here with me. Making love to me.”
“Oh, he was?” Bunny responds instantly, a slight grimace on her lips.
“Because I remember him in my bed… forcing my face into the sheets while he shoved his rancid cock into my ass! I remember crying! Begging him to stop, but he kept going! Over and over and over again until he had had enough and decided it was time to go home to his new bride! So, I guess you’re right.
” She stops, face red, oxygen ripped from her lungs.
And still, my girl finds the strength to go on.
“He was here with you after he was done with me.”
I know there are violent, graphic details she leaves out, and I can’t deny that I’m grateful for it. I’ve had to picture her in the worst, most traumatizing, and violating positions. Having her confirm only some of it… well. I don’t know if anyone would leave this room alive.
Again, even when she knows the truth because it’s written across the faces of the two people who were actually there, the wife still calls Bunny a liar.
Tired of this, Bunny says between clenched teeth, “Yeah? Ask him.” But she won’t.
Why would she willingly shatter her illusion of a perfect life?
Right now, she has it all—the perfect home, the sweetest daughter, the best husband.
Why risk fracturing perfection when she knows what lies beneath the surface?
She’ll never ask, so Bunny destroys the fantasy for her.
Shifting back toward Lakens, she demands, “Tell her.” He gazes at her instead, remaining silent and smiling.
What a mistake he just made.
“Tell her the truth!” Bunny roars, yanking the club from his mouth to ram it against his kneecap.
The crunch of bones breaking is the most pleasing sound, so loud it travels through the walls, confirming that we’ve kept our promise to Sophie. I hope she’s smiling in that tiny space of hers, confident that she finally has someone to keep her safe.
“Stop! Please stop!” The wife begs, hands clasped in front of her open, crying mouth, but Bunny is beyond control—a woman truly unhinged as she breaks every bone in his knee.
“What a fucking baby,” she laughs as Lakens folds in on himself, cradling the dislodged pieces.
“All I did was hit you on the knee.” Chuckling, Bunny brings the baton up, ready to start the process all over again.
“Tell her what you did to me. How you liked to curl your fingers under the little bones in my neck because you said the feeling of my racing pulse made you come harder.”
“Tell her,” she continues, “how you’d squeeze my throat so hard you’d feel tiny pops against your palm.
How you liked to paint my body with the blood you took from my lips!
” Bunny takes a breath, eyes glazed with sorrow and pain, but she keeps going.
“Tell her how I begged you to help me… and all you did was kiss me and tell me how good you’d be to me next time. Tell her. Tell her… Fucking tell her!”
Over and over, Bunny beats the same spot, this time catching his hand as it tries to protect the broken area.
She hammers the fragile little bones until the thin skin and muscle are mush.
To us, blood and pulp of flesh are nothing.
We’ve experienced so much worse down in those cages.
I’m sure even Lakens has seen his fair share of shit.
But his wife? The sight of her husband’s hand resembling ground beef sends her flying toward the edge of the bed, vomiting all the contents of her stomach.
The smell is immediate and foul, mixing with the harsh aroma of blood. Had I not been used to it, I might’ve lost the coffee and muffin Susie gave me earlier. Truth be told, the disgusting shit coming out of her might make me lose it anyway.
Sidestepping, I attempt to keep my disgust to myself as Lakens begins to refocus. This time, on me.
“Who the fuck is this?” he asks, breathing harshly with spit on his lips.
I disregard him completely, though it takes every amount of effort I have. Twirling the blade between my fingers, I keep my attention on Bunny, displaying silent solidarity. And then this stupid motherfucker begins to speak.
“Aww,” he sneers, “you got yourself a little boyfriend? How’d you find the time in the middle of taking dicks and whippings?”
I always prided myself on being nothing like the men in my family.
Did I drink? Yes. Did I fuck at random? Definitely, but I never put my hands on a woman, and that was my biggest source of pleasure.
It proved I was better than them. I swore I would remain better than them.
And fuck you, Lakens, for ruining that for me.
Slicing my fingers through the wife’s hair, I toss her around and drag her to me, trapping her against my chest. I press her to me so tightly I can feel her heart quaking, taking in how much it worsens when I press my blade against her neck.
“Tell her, or I’ll slice her from ear to ear.”
A horrified expression passes over his lips, but still, Lakens pushes. “You don’t have the fucking balls!”
Oh?
Digging the tip in below the right side of her jaw, I begin to pull, immediately feeling the warmth of her blood dripping onto my hand.
Her screams are bone-shaking, almost as violent as her thrashing body.
It only makes the cutting worse—the blood flows viciously.
That’s what gets her husband moving. That’s what brings him to me.
I pull his wife to the side, ready for his attack.
Fucking welcoming his attack, but as soon as his feet hit the ground, Bunny swings.
It’s not like her other swings. This one holds all the weight of her anger, and every shot she takes after is everything she was forced to keep inside.
She crushes his temple for all the memories, breaks his teeth for every smile.
I don’t think there’s a bone she hasn’t touched, not one spot that hasn’t fractured just a bit.
Bunny shouts and roars and cries and screams, and she shows him, her very first monster, what kind of animal they’ve turned her into.
By the time she’s exhausted herself, blood and gristle stick to her sweat-slicked skin. Her hair, which flowed freely before this, is stuck to her flesh, drenched in gore. I don’t even think she realizes when she bends down. “Tell. Her.”
Inhales whistling, Lakens fights to push himself off the floor, searching for his wife. When he finds her, tears are in both their eyes.
“I di-did it. I-I r-raped her. I raped her. We-we all raped her.”
There’s no more denial or argument. His wife doesn’t plead or refuse to accept it as true.
She cries tears of truth and agony, finally unable to mask the devil she brought into her home.
I want to feel bad for her, and a small fraction of me might, but the majority hides in the closet with that little girl.
There were two devils in this home.
“Now, get up,” she orders, nudging him in his side with her foot. “You’re going to help us find the others.”
Spitting at her, Lakens replies, “Fuck you, cunt. I’m not doing shit for you.”
Folding, she taunts him by dragging the baton from his belly to his lips, ramming the blunt end past his remaining teeth.
Lakens attempts to put up a struggle, jerking his head from side to side, but there’s no strength left in him, so there’s really nothing he can do when she jams it down his throat.
Bunny speaks to him softly, almost romantically.
“You know, there’s not much I haven’t endured.
.. not much that people haven’t shoved inside me.
But you?” She stops, gently wiping away a fallen tear.
“I bet you wouldn’t know what to do if I shoved this metal pole up your ass.
I’m not scared to find out. Are you?” Even in his silence, we all know the answer.
He is fucking terrified.
Bunny basks in it, absorbing the flavor of his fear. She doesn’t want to waste a second, but his wife is completely passed out in my arms, immobile but not dead.
“Bun.” My voice brings her back, and her eyes go to the collapsed woman in my arms. “Toss me those.” I nudge my head toward the handcuffs I spotted on the bedside table.
When they’re close, I gently lay the wife on the bed and shackle her wrist to the post, ensuring she’s tightly secured before yanking the pole from Lakens' throat myself, securing it in the waistband of my pants, where my blades usually lie.
My knife takes the baton's place, curiosity returning. “You’re going to fucking move and do what she says, because if you don’t, I’m going to fuck your throat with this blade, and then I’m going to saw off your dick and let her shove it up your hairy, untouched ass.
You will cry,” I promise, digging my blade in.
“You will bleed, and then you’ll fucking die.
And in the end, I’ll still find a way to get her what she wants.
So, what do you say?” I ask, running the tip along the soft inside of his broken mouth.
“Are you going to make this easy? Or do you feel like playing?”
“Are you going to make this easy, boy?” Marone questions, wiping my blood from the whip in his hands. This is the third night in a row I’ve refused to fight for him, allowing death to be right upon me. He would have let that happen, had the crowd not loved me.
No. That wasn’t the word he used.
Desired.
Marone would have let me be slaughtered that first time, but the men watching—the men betting on me—desired me.
Whether it was to be me or to be with me, he wasn’t clear.
All I knew was that they wanted me, and because of that, I had to live.
But I didn’t have to do so comfortably. Marone is making sure of that.
Lashing the cat-o'-nine-tails across my back for the ninth time, Marone asks me again. “Are you going to make this easy? Or do you feel like playing?”
His voice no longer just lives in my head. Marone infected my core, making me just like him.
There are three devils in this house now.