28. Twenty-Eight Lakey
Twenty-Eight: Lakey
T he kitchen was my stage, and I was the star of this here cooking lesson. I twirled between the counter and stove, tossing pancake batter with a flair that would've made the great G-Ram shit himself. All the while, I could feel Rose's eyes on me, tracking my every move like a deer watching a wolf. Poor thing thought she was being subtle, but subtlety ain't exactly her strong suit.
I glanced over my shoulder, catching her gaze for a split second before she ducked her head. Damn, she was jumpy. Made me wonder what kind of hell she'd crawled out of to make our cozy little den of sin look like a safe haven.
"Hungry, sweetheart?" I asked. "Don't worry, I promise I won't bite... much."
Rose's shoulders tensed, but she managed a tiny nod. Progress, I suppose. At least she wasn't pissing herself anymore. That was gross as fuck.
As I poured the batter onto the sizzling pan, my eyes drifted to the living room where Cam was hunched over his make-shift desk like some broody gargoyle. Papers were strewn everywhere, and his laptop screen flickered with God-knows-what research he was doing. “Connecting the dots” as he called it. I dunno, I just wanted him to point me in someone’s direction and let me at ‘em. All this puzzle solving was exhausting.
I couldn't help but smirk. My man, always so focused. It was sexy as hell, watching those big hands of his shuffle through documents, his dark eyes narrowed in concentration. But what really got me going was the way he'd occasionally glance up at Rose, his gaze sharp and calculating.
Oh, Cam. Always so cautious, so guarded. It made me want to carve my name into his skin over his tattoo, just to remind him who he belonged to.
"How's the digging going, babe?" I called out, flipping a pancake with unnecessary force. "Find any juicy tidbits about our little friend's former digs?"
Cam grunted, barely looking up. "Nothing concrete yet. But there's something off about the church. The numbers don't add up. If it’s headquarters, their finances should reflect that, but it seems most, if not all, of their funding does come from donations. So… just trying to track the money."
I nodded, pretending I gave two shits about the financial records of the church. What I really cared about was the way Rose flinched at the mention of it all. There was a story there, alright. And I was gonna pry it out of her, one way or another.
As I slid the first batch of pancakes onto a plate, I couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of domesticity. Here we were, playing house with our new little pet. It was almost cute, in a seriously fucked-up way. I didn’t even burn the pancakes this time. Improvement.
I sauntered over to Rose, balancing a plate stacked high with pancakes dripping with syrup. My lips curled into a sweet smile. "Here you go. Eat up. You look like you could use some meat on those bones."
Rose's eyes darted between me and the plate, her fingers twitching slightly. Poor thing looked like she expected me to yank it away or worse. It was almost endearing, in a sad sort of way.
"So, Rosie," I sang, sliding into the seat next to her. "Tell me, what was life like before you joined our little family? Any fond memories of your nunnery days?"
I watched her face carefully, drinking in every micro-expression. The way her brow furrowed, the slight tremble of her lower lip. It was like watching a wounded animal, cornered and desperate. Once, a little mouse had gotten stuck in a glue trap back at one of the homes we were at. I spent hours prying the little fella free, washing him and letting him go in the woods. Reminded me a lot of that little mouse. Funny that I’m the one diagnosed as a psychopath, and not the dumb fuck who set out that trap intending to hurt an innocent creature.
Go fucking figure.
She shook her head, a tear falling down her cheek. I felt… something at the sight. This… this brokenness would have been my fate. This weakness that Rose has, that overt display of emotion. If I wasn’t what I was. What they’d turned me into. Maybe what they’d bred me for. I was grateful, at least, that I was nothing if not mentally strong because watching those tears both disgusted and intrigued me.
I stood up, my chair scraping against the floor. "Come on, Rosie. Let's get you out of those rags."
Rose's eyes darted to mine, wide with uncertainty. I could practically hear her heart racing.
"Don't worry, buttercup. I've got some clothes that'll fit you just fine," I said, gesturing for her to follow me. “Not gonna hurt you. I’d have done it already. I don’t really play with my food. Ask Cam.”
He snorted and rolled his eyes earning himself a glare before I grinned and winked at him, relishing in the way he watched me walk away, putting a little extra pep in my step just for him.
As we walked to the closet, I couldn't help but notice how she hugged the walls, like she was trying to disappear into them. Her eyes never left me, watching my every move. Smart girl. At least she had survival instincts. Those will come in handy.
I flung open the closet door with a flourish. "Ta-da! Pick your poison."
Rose hesitated; her gaze fixed on the array of clothes. She was taller than me, but about the same size. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself, and I caught a glimpse of angry red scars peeking out from under her sleeve.
"Aw, come on now," I coaxed. "No need to be shy. We're all friends here."
I reached out, gently tugging at her arm. She tensed, and for a second, I thought she might bolt. But then something in her eyes changed. It wasn't trust — I'm not that fucking delusional — but maybe a flicker of resignation.
As she slowly lowered her arms, I saw the full extent of her scars. They crisscrossed her skin like a roadmap of pain. For a moment, just a split second really, I felt bad for her.
"Hey," I said, my voice softer than I intended. "We've all got our battle scars, yeah? Nothing to be ashamed of."
Rose's eyes met mine, searching for... fuck knows what. Empathy? Good luck with that, honey.
But as I looked at her, all vulnerable and broken, I felt that weird twinge again. Christ, was I going soft? I was. I noticed it a little more everyday and it had everything to fucking do with the little girl waiting for me somewhere. Somewhere that I couldn’t get to.
Yet. Anyway.
"Look," I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Pick whatever you want. No judgment here. Hell, we could be twins if you wanted. Matching outfits and all that cutesy shit. I got some stripper clothes in there, but I don’t think walking around in nipple tassels is a great idea. Kind of draws attention, ya know?"
A ghost of a smile flickered across Rose's face. It was small, barely there, but it stirred something in me. Something dangerously close to actually giving a shit.
Goddamn it. This girl was going to be trouble.
I felt Cam's eyes on us before I saw him. That prickle on the back of my neck, the one I'd learned to trust years ago. I glanced over my shoulder, catching his gaze from across the room.
Fuck. His face was doing that thing — that barely-there softness that made my stomach twist. It wasn't the look he gave me when he wanted to fuck or kill. This was... different. Protective, almost.
I turned back to Rose, fighting the urge to bare my teeth. "Come on, doll. Let's get you dressed and presentable. Can't have you looking like a hot mess in our humble abode, can we?"
Rose nodded; her movements still hesitant as she picked through the clothes. I kept my tone light, but inside, my thoughts were a fucking tornado. Was Cam getting attached? To her? The idea made me want to laugh and stab something simultaneously. No. Not my Cam. He’s just following my lead. No need to be jealous over a little mouse.
He lived for me. Breathed for me. He’d never even side-eye another girl unless I told him I wanted him too. And I didn’t. Not anymore.
Once Rose was dressed, looking less like a scared rabbit and more like an actual human, I led her to the living room. "There we go. Much better, right? You clean up nice, kid."
I flopped onto the couch, patting the spot next to me. Rose perched on the edge, as if sitting next to me would put her in immediate danger of dying.
"So," I drawled, flashing my most disarming smile. "Tell me, Rose. What's your favorite way to unwind after a long day of... whatever the fuck it is you do when you’re not being tortured by our Father?"
Her eyes widened slightly. Progress. At least she was responding to something.
I leaned in, conspiratorial. "Me? I like a good bubble bath. Scented candles, glass of wine, maybe some light stabbing. You know, the classics."
A strangled sound escaped Rose's throat. It took me a second to realize it was a laugh - or at least, an attempt at one.
Well, shit. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
I kept chattering away, watching her rigid posture slowly start to unwind. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Cam's gaze flicking our way. He went back to his papers, but I could tell his razor-sharp focus was split. He wanted to join us but knew better than to intervene on girl’s time. After all, Rose was my first bona fide friend.
"So, anyway," I said, leaning back and stretching my legs out. "You're quite the mystery, aren't you? Chained in the basement. Part of the big nun thing, too, eh?"
Her eyes widened, fear flickering across her face. Hmmm, hit a nerve there. She must have spent some time at the nunnery judging by the expression she wore.
"Hey, no judgment here," I said, waving a hand. "We've all got our trauma. At least that’s what google tells me."
Rose's lips parted, like she might say something, but then she clamped them shut again. Damn. So close.
I heard Cam's chair scrape against the floor as he stood up. "Lakey," he said, his tone a warning.
I flashed him my sweetest smile. "What? Just making conversation."
He rolled his eyes, but I saw the curiosity burning behind them. Oh, he wanted to know just as badly as I did.
"You know what?" I said, clapping my hands together. "I think it's time we all sat down for a nice, family dinner. What do you say, Rose? How does tonight sound?"
Rose's eyes darted between Cam and me, like she was gaging if I was being serious or not. After a long moment, she gave a tiny nod.
“Great!” Clapping my hands together, a giggle escaped. “Now, lets go get on with the day and I’ll whip us up something later tonight, yeah?”
Cam rolled his eyes and started moving towards the bedroom. It was going to be a wonderful day indeed.
"Okay you two, I’m starving." My eyes burned from pouring over more notes, more timelines, more locations. Cam had been non stop all day and it was grinding my gears. Rose was just sitting quietly in the corner of the living room, watching some stupid show on TV about unsolved murders. "I'll get started on the cooking. Hope you like your meat rare, Rosie. It's the only way to eat it, if you ask me."
As I sauntered towards the kitchen, I couldn't help but grin. This was going to be fun. She’d eventually open up and tell us everything.
I twirled around the kitchen like a ballerina, grabbing pots and pans with practiced ease. I was truly an awful cook, but I spent enough time trying that one day I’d get the hang of it. Cam always told me just to follow the damn recipe, but where was the fun in that? One clove of garlic? Pfft, try 37 and get back to me. Instant improvement. The knife gleamed as I chopped veggies, my mind drifting to other, more entertaining uses for the blade. But no, not tonight. We had a guest to impress.
"Cam," I sing-songed, "be a dear and set the table, would you?"
He appeared behind me in a flash. His hand brushed my hip as he reached for the plates, grabbing three before he leaned down and stared intensely at me.
"What's your angle here, Lakes?" he murmured, his breath hot on my ear.
I turned, pressing myself against him. "Can't a girl just want a nice family dinner?"
His dark eyes searched mine, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "You've never wanted anything 'nice' in your life."
I giggled, trailing a finger down his chest. "True. But I do want to crack open our little Rose and see what makes her tick. Don't you?"
Cam's grin was wolfish. "Always."
We moved around each other easily, grabbing this, salting that. Making sure everything was as good as it was gonna get. Every brush of skin, every shared glance, was charged with an electricity that made my blood sing. God, I loved this man.
Finally, we settled at the table, Rose perched across from us. The silence was thick enough to choke on, broken only by the clink of forks against plates. I watched Rose push her food around, not eating a bite. Rude, considering all my hard work. I mean, I’m not the best cook, but at least there’s something to eat, which honestly, is a vast improvement on the starvation diet the nuns probably had her on.
"So, Rosie," I chirped, unable to bear the quiet any longer. "Ever hear the one about the nun, the serial killer, and the pyromaniac who walked into a bar?"
Rose's eyes went wide, her fork clattering to the plate. Cam choked on his wine, shooting me a look that was equal parts exasperation and amusement.
I grinned. "No? Well, I guess you had to be there."
Cam rolled his eyes at me. “Lakes, that doesn’t even make sense.”
“It’s not supposed to.” I scoffed. I wasn’t exactly queen bee of comedy, but you know what? I tried. Which is more than what I could say for his conversational skills at the moment.
I watched Rose carefully, waiting for her to bolt or burst into tears. But something unexpected happened. The tension in her shoulders eased, just a fraction. Her lips twitched upward in some weird version of a smile.
Rose didn't speak — no surprise there — but she picked up her fork again. She took a tentative bite, then another. My chest swelled with a weird sense of pride. Who knew playing house could be so damn satisfying?
I caught Cam's eye across the table. His dark gaze was fixed on Rose, that familiar predatory gleam softened by something I couldn't quite place. Whatever it was, it made my skin prickle with jealousy and excitement in equal measure. This whole family thing was kinda working out.
"You like it, Rose?" I asked, leaning forward. "Bet it beats whatever slop they fed you at that orphanage."
Rose's eyes flicked up, a flash of anger in her gaze. Curious. Before I could parse it out, Cam's hand found my thigh under the table, squeezing hard enough to bruise.
"Easy, babe, Jesus," he murmured. "Let's not scare off our guest just yet. Give her a minute."
I leaned back, a thrill running through me at his touch. This was new territory for us – playing nice, nurturing our little stray. But as I watched Rose slowly come out of her shell, I realized I really sort of liked it. I was doing something positive. It was oddly soothing to whatever soul I had left.
Cam's thumb traced circles on my leg, his eyes never leaving Rose. I could practically see the gears turning in that brilliant, twisted mind of his. Whatever game we were playing now, it was far from over.
And honestly? I couldn't fucking wait to see how it all played out.
Rose's gaze darted between me and Cam, her eyes wide and wary. But there was something new there too. A growing sense of belonging. The shift was almost imperceptible, but it was there. The room felt different somehow. Warmer.
I cocked my head, studying her. "You know, Rosie, you're safe here. No one's gonna hurt you." I flashed her a smile. "Well, not unless you want them to."
Cam's fingers dug into my thigh. I bit back a moan, heat pooling low in my gut. God, I loved it when he got all sassy.
Rose's brow furrowed, like she was trying to solve a particularly tricky puzzle. Her lips parted, then closed again, words dying before they could escape. Poor thing looked like she wanted to participate in the conversation, but didn’t know how, or what to even say.
I leaned in, dropping my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You don't gotta talk if you don't want to. But if you stick around, I promise we'll show you a whole new world of fun. You see… we’re exacting revenge on the fuckers who did this to you. To us, too, if I’m being honest."
As I spoke, I watched her eyes. They were suddenly filled with hope. Now we were speaking her language. She wanted revenge. That was useful.
I glanced at Cam, saw my own twisted excitement mirrored in his dark gaze. Whatever this fragile thing brewing between us was, it was far from over. And honestly? I couldn't wait to see how our little Rose would bloom.