Chapter 16 Cade
Cade
“Idon’t think these fit me,” I announce in a sharp whisper, feeling the fabric that tightly hugs my frame. The slacks are a bit too short, and the expensive button-down shirt stretches dangerously across my back. One wrong move and I may come busting out of this.
“Will you stop?” Bunny chuckles, fixing the wrinkles created by my fidgeting. “They look fine.”
I’m studying the cracked face when I feel eyes burning into my side.
I don’t need to look to know it’s Bunny studying me, as she has been since we changed into this ridiculous attire.
Well, mine is laughable. Hers is—God, I stare at her now, taking her in once again.
Where I look ready for a long day at the office, she seems prepared to ruin my life.
Long legs, perky tits, curves that are the gentlest slopes, but God, I don’t think there’s anything that can quite compare to her face.
“What?” Bunny asks, cheeks turning red.
Continuing to study her, I remark, “You were going to be a model.”
It’s a statement, not a question, to which she responds with a moody, solemn glance at the leaf-covered ground. “Yeah. I wanted to be.”
“In another life, Bunny,” I whisper, taking her left hand, kissing each knuckle one by one, “you would have been the greatest thing the world’s ever seen.”
People are generally easy to read. But then some looks in life are completely indecipherable.
The look Bunny gives me now is one of those.
Her eyes give absolutely nothing away—no thoughts, no story.
Nothing. I’m left staring, wondering if I crossed a line.
I’m about to apologize when she blinks, every feeling emerging in the form of a single falling tear.
“Thank you, Cade.” It’s barely a murmur, but I hear her loud as day. All the sorrow and regret festering in her gut comes out in a quiet, strangled gasp.
What a loss, I think, that the world will never know this beautiful, broken girl.
What a shame that only the sickest have had the opportunity to experience someone so wonderful.
It’s a waste to hide her, but selfishly, I hope, even after we do what she’s planned, Bunny chooses to stay mine—mine and mine alone.
But what a loss.
No, the world doesn’t deserve her.
Kissing her on the crown of her head, we peer through the trees, glaring at the two adults fucking on a bed.
“That's their kid?” I ask, staring through another window at a little girl watching something on the TV, alone.
Bunny watches her for a moment, anger trapped between clenched lips. “I don’t know. Probably. Yeah… she must be.” After everything Bunny shared with me, everything this sick bastard has done to her, it turns my stomach thinking of this fucker with kids—a little girl, no less.
“Motherfucker,” I curse, spitting his name into the dirt. Hours tick by with us just fucking watching, but the more I think, the higher my rage builds.
“Not yet,” Bunny hisses periodically, keeping me locked in place with a secure lock on my wrist. It isn’t until the cabin goes dark, still for a handful of moments, that Bunny releases me.
I waste no time stalking ahead, her hand clasped in mine.
We’re weightless; our steps noiseless over fallen foliage.
The only sound to be heard is the swoosh of the blade flying through the air before I cut a slit in the screen door.
Lock flipped, I slowly pull the door open, allowing Bun to slide through before I follow in carefully.
This is her mission, her revenge to exact, so I step after her, dutifully following.
She led us into the bedroom of the little girl, who was asleep peacefully, before she sensed our presence.
Now, fully awake, the little girl stares at us, frozen in fear.
I could say the same for us, statuesque in terror.
I motion to the little girl to be silent, but Bunny springs into action, raising her hands in peace. “We’re not going to hurt you,” she tells the girl. “I promise.” But the little girl isn’t convinced, a horrified glare shifting between the two of us.
I’m afraid that at any moment, she’s going to start screaming and crying, causing a scene that may force me to act in a way I never wished to. But I’d put my hands on this little girl, ensuring her silence, before I allowed Bunny to be hurt again. Thankfully, the little girl surprises us both.
“Are you here for the bad man?”
That question creates a hole in my gut, but I answer truthfully, falling to my knees in the space beside her bed. “Yes. We’re gonna make the bad man go away because he hurt her,” I say, gesturing to Bunny.
I thought there were limits to her terror, but it deepens with a tiny, strangled gasp. “He hurts me, too.”
Bunny, face sinking, falls beside me, taking the little girl’s palm in her own. “I’m going to make sure he never hurts you again.” Another promise. “Would you like that?” Her nod is immediate, full of hope.
“What’s your name?” I ask, throat closing.
Stuttering, she cries, “Sophie.”
“Sophie,” Bunny smiles, wiping the tears away from her baby-soft skin, “we’re going to stop the bad man, but I need you to do something for us, okay?”
Sniffling, she stutters again, “Okay….” The fear is still evident in her tiny voice, but Sophie fights to be strong anyway.
Pointing toward the closet, Bunny orders, “I need you to take your pillow and blanket and go hide in there. Okay?” When she’s sure Sophie is hanging onto her every word, Bunny continues, “And no matter what you hear, you don’t come out.
Just put the pillow over your head…and go to sleep.
Can you do that for us, Sophie? Can you be brave for us? ”
In the dark, Sophie sits back and stares intently, hanging onto our every word.
I was always told that the best judges of character were animals and children, that somehow their intuition is heightened to a level that can determine if someone is good or bad.
What a load of shit I used to believe. I was never around kids, and my father detested animals, so it’s not like I could actually prove the theory.
But here is Sophie, admitting Lakens is a piece of shit and deciding, ultimately, to trust us.
Taking all the comforts of her bed, she slides from the mattress and tucks herself into a ball on the floor of her closet, eyeing us for a long breath until the door clicks closed.
Bunny and I sit for a moment, watching and waiting, astounded that of all people, this little girl has put her trust in two strangers who have just broken into her home.
Seething, I finger the blade in my pocket, wishing to do nothing more but gut the man in the next room. “She can barely fucking talk.”
“When has that ever mattered…” Bunny murmurs, beneath her breath, to no one but her and her alone. I’m reminded then of all she’s had to endure, and I question, did it start when she could barely form a sentence as well?
Murderous at the thought, I stand, holding my hand out to bring Bunny to her feet.
She takes my palm and delicately wraps her fingers around mine.
Momentarily, I’m brought back to our conversation from last night, and I think of a day in the future, when we can hold hands without worry.
Maybe we’ll be two people at ease and not surrounded by bricks of pain.
But until we reach that moment in time, I carry Sophie on my sleeve, vowing to avenge her as well.
Bunny.
Clara.
Max.
The twins.
Sophie.
And me… along with countless others.
Repeating their names in my head, I push the bedroom door open, grateful for the silent hinges.
Obvious in my disgust, I scoff at the strewn-about sexual paraphernalia.
Kicking shit to the side, I’m glad that we were able to get Sophie to hide in the closet.
The last thing a kid needs to see is their mother’s fucking collection of dildoes thrown on the ground.
Letting the rage bubble, I release Bunny’s hand and stand beside Lakens’s snoring body.
Staring down at his open mouth, I think of how easy it would be to take my blade and shove it down his exposed windpipe.
Would he feel my fist in his mouth first?
Or would I be able to tear through the rings of his trachea before he could stop me?
The idea is tempting. I’ve always been experimental, but then something else catches my attention instead.
“Hey,” I call, motioning for Bunny’s attention. When I have it, I toss over what I found, her new toy.
Uncle Harris loved his billy club. Whether it was to scare the animals into submission or beat me until the welts on my back were as hard as the baton, he fucking loved flashing it at all times. I think of him as I toss the heavy stick over to Bunny. I have no desire to wield the same weapon.
She admires it for a moment, gazing at the club with a sort of depraved glee.
I don’t give a shit, though. Look at the spark in her eyes.
When I see her bring it over her shoulder, fingers flexing and releasing, preparing to swing, I move out of her way.
She’s watched me fight, I don’t know how many times.
I’m excited to see what she’s like unleashed.
And it’s fucking glorious.
The first swing struck him in the center of the chest, and it was nice to hear his gasp of pain, but the second strike?
My fucking God, I think I’m in love. Right there on the edge of his forehead, narrowly missing the fragile bone around his eye socket, his skin splits, blood immediately pouring down his face.
When his screaming is loud enough to shake the walls, I prepare my blade to settle my previous curiosity, but Bunny beats me to it, ramming the baton into his gut instead.