15. Chapter Fifteen Cam
Chapter Fifteen: Cam
I pulled Lakey onto my lap, her small frame fitting perfectly against my chest. The worn leather of the chair creaked as I shifted. Nuzzling into her hair, I breathed deeply. Sure, she smelled like the death that permeated the air, but she also had her usual musk. It soothed me. Always had.
"Well, sweetheart, think about it like a party favor," I drawled, eyeing the envelope clutched in her hands.
Lakey's light blue eyes met mine, a hint of mischief dancing behind the fear. "This one’s addressed to me. Oh, still my beating heart, I simply cannot wait to open it. Maybe it’ll come with a deed to this here beautiful property.
Wouldn’t that be grand, my darl?" She’d forced her voice to sound like a southern belle, squirming in my lap as she bowed to the otherwise empty room.
I chuckled, tightening my arms around her. Fuck, I loved this woman—scars, psychopathy, and all. My little golden retriever. Their vicious black cat. She never failed to show the strength behind her trauma, even if that strength sometimes came at the cost of someone else’s life.
"Open it," I bit her neck hard, trying to keep her in that same, strong frame of mind. "Let's see what skeletons are rattling around in there." She always calmed in my arms, and hopefully, it proved to be the same in a few minutes.
Lakey's nimble fingers carefully tore open the envelope. Her breath hitched as she pulled out the first photograph. My body went rigid, something dark bubbling up inside me as I took in the image.
There was my girl, sprawled out on a cold metal gurney. Vulnerable. Exposed.
Used.
"Well, that's certainly not my best angle," Lakey quipped, but I heard the tremor in her voice. “God, it looks like I have 4 chins. Why wouldn’t they pose me better? You think they actually wanked to this? Gross.”
My mind raced, scanning through every detail of the sickening photo.
The clinical setting. The needles. The vacant look in Lakey's usually vibrant eyes as they stared at the ceiling. They had an IV running into her arm and electrodes attached to her skull and chest, but for some reason, they hadn’t shut her eyes.
Had she been semi conscious for this? Had she felt it?
I wanted to rip open a skull. To plunge my fingers into the soft of their eyeballs before ripping them from their eye sockets.
To hunt down every motherfucker who'd laid a hand on her and make them suffer.
Struggling to take a deep breath, I closed my eyes for a moment. First, I had to go through the motions.
Get Lakes through this. Then murder.
"Hey," I turned her face towards mine. "We're gonna split ‘em open like stuck pigs. Every last one of them. I’m thinking a very horror-adjacent scene. We can pour their blood all over us and bathe in it. Isn’t that a thing? Bathing in the blood of your enemies?"
A slow, wicked smile spread across Lakey's face. "Mmm, I do love that idea."
Lakey continued sifting through the contents. The cold detachment that settled over me as I eyed the photos was the only thing that held me together enough to sit still and not light this room on fire.
"Jesus Christ," I muttered, eyeing a particularly gruesome photo. "Looks like they were trying to recreate Saw in there. Maybe we should send them a cease and desist for copyright infringement."
Lakey snorted, her fingers tracing over a nasty scar on her arm. "I think I prefer Jigsaw's methods, honestly. At least he had some flair. My favorite was the angel one. Ooooh, now there’s an idea."
I barked out a laugh, but it felt hollow. My girl, my vicious little nightmare, reduced to a lab rat. My muscles were so tense, they could snap at the lightest touch.
"Hey, Lakes. Remember when our biggest problem was day dreaming about how to dispose of Bill’s body? Good times, huh?"
She elbowed me playfully, opening her mouth as if to say something, but then she stiffened as she pulled out a new sheet of paper. Her face went pale, blue eyes widening at the clinical text.
"Cam," she whispered, voice uncharacteristically small. "They... they chemically castrated me."
The world tilted on its axis. My arms tightened around her instinctively, possessively. Holy fuck. Everything clicked into place. We hadn’t used birth control for years… and…
"Those fucking bastards," my teeth ground so hard my jaw clicked. "Holy fuck."
Lakey turned to me, a storm cloud in her eyes despite the tears threatening to spill over. "I wanted to be a fucking mother, Cam. I wanted to have a baby. You and me. They fucking took that from me.” She screamed, anguish echoing in the small room.
Suddenly, her face contorted. She stumbled off my lap, nearly tripping over her own feet as she lurched towards the recycling bin in the corner. My heart twisted, as she retched violently into it.
"Shit, Lakes," I muttered, pushing myself up from the worn chair. My anger was replaced by concern as I crossed the room in two long strides. I placed my hand on her back, feeling the tremors wracking her small frame as she continued to heave.
"It's okay, baby," I rubbed gentle circles between her shoulder blades. "Let it out. I've got you."
It was fucked up, really. Here I was, a diagnosed narcissistic sociopath, feeling my chest constrict at the sight of her pain. Theoretically, I shouldn’t feel much of anything. Though, I’m not as ‘clinically deranged’ as Lakey. Their words, not mine.
She had always been my exception, the one person who could make me feel...
well, anything. Love, if it could go by that name.
Because really, what is love except for an innate burning to avenge those who hurt your person?
The more we stepped into this type of darkness, the righter my love for her felt.
Mine was nothing like this. Mine was almost protective in nature, tied to the one person who had never let me down.
It sat in my chest, feeling all kinds of fucked.
I actively recoiled against the sensation, trying to soothe the utter repulsion I felt at what they did to her.
The world didn’t understand us, but it never mattered.
We were psycho squared, stronger together than we ever were apart.
We didn’t need anyone to ‘get us’, and now that much had become clear.
They’d taken something, something precious from my girl.
All the late-night talks where she’d joke about how she was unstable, but she’d give anything to be a mom.
She’d always turned everything into a comedy skit, but the need for her was real.
I couldn’t name a single woman that could have been a better mother. Who do you know that would slice the dick and balls off someone for being a sick fuck? No one, and that’s the point. Everyone cowers in their homes, waiting for someone else to do what needs to be done.
But not my Lakes.
She would have made a phenomenal mother and now… well…
They just sealed themselves in a very special hell. One where heaven becomes a distorted version of choosing whether they lose their left hand or their right first before losing them both.
When the heaving finally subsided, Lakey straightened up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She turned to face me, and the sight of tears brimming in those light blue eyes hit me like a sucker punch to the gut.
Our gazes locked, and in that moment, a thousand unspoken words passed between us. My hands clenched, a fresh wave of fury washing over me as I saw the raw vulnerability in her expression. It was a side of Lakey that almost never surfaced, the scared little girl I protected ages ago.
"I'll kill them all," I promised. "Every last fucker who touched you. They'll wish they'd never been born by the time I'm done with them."
“My salvation," she whispered, but her voice was shaky.
I pulled her into my arms, one hand cupping the back of her head as she buried her face in my chest. She tilted her face upward, kissing me softly while I wiped the wetness off her cheeks.
These fucks thought they could break us, control us. But they had no idea what they'd unleashed. With Lakey by my side, there was no limit to the carnage we could wreak.
And I was going to enjoy every bloody second of it.
She let me go, going to stand at the desk again, her trembling fingers reached for the next sheet of paper. Her face, usually a mask of sweet mischief, was now pale and drawn. As she unfolded it, my stomach twisted.
How the fuck could shit get even worse?
"Fuck me sideways," I muttered, eyeing the clinical list of drug names and dosages. Next to it was a photo that made me pause. Lakey, strapped to a chair, eyes vacant and unseeing. She was covered in welts, but her hands were cut open. Almost as if she had been pounding against a wall or something. I felt as if I’d seen this before, a weird sensation of déjà vu passing over me.
"What the fuck is this?" Her fingers traced the lines of drug names.
My mind raced, piecing together the horrific puzzle. "Scopolamine, ketamine, fuck... even good ol' sodium thiopental. Jesus Christ, they threw the whole pharmacopeia at you, didn't they?"
"Cam," Lakey's voice cracked. "I remember... things. Terrible things I did. Things I’d never, ever fucking do to an innocent human being. I feel like I’m watching myself, my hands… moving, cutting. But it wasn't me, it was—"
"It wasn't you," I cut her off. "It was whatever they pumped you with."
Grabbing the pictures from her, I flipped to the last one.
She was standing over a crumpled body, unrecognizable.
This wasn’t my girl. This was something out of a nightmare.
Her hair was dark, stained with blood as she stared with unseeing eyes at the corpse below her. In her hand, a small karambit.
As much as I loved her murderous tendencies, I loved them when SHE was in control. Not when someone else was pulling the punches. This just felt perverted.
What the fuck were they testing this shit for? Who wants to control a bunch of girls in a nunnery?
I cradled Lakey against me, savoring the silence that fell between us. She wasn’t screaming, wasn’t yelling. No. She was just picture perfect calm and the only tell that she was raging underneath was the slight tremor in her hand.
"You know," I mused, breaking the quiet, "those bastards thought they were so clever. Unlocking your potential for violence. As if you needed any help with that, sweetheart."
Lakey tilted her head up. "Are you saying I was already perfect, Cam?"
"Perfect? Maybe," I smirked. "But a goddamn work of art? Fucking rights."
She giggled, and her hand settled. "Flatterer."
As I held her, my gaze swept the room, taking in the chaos. Papers strewn everywhere; furniture overturned.
That's when it caught my eye.
Amidst the debris, a glint of metal caught my eye. I narrowed my focus, zeroing in on a pile of shredded paper. There, half-buried under the carnage, was a rolodex box.
"Well, that’s interesting. What do we have here?"
Lakey followed my gaze. "Is that..."
"Oh yeah, baby," I breathed, already imagining the possibilities. "Looks like we just hit the lotto."
I lunged forward, snatching the rolodex from the debris with a triumphant laugh. “Fucking jackpot, indeed!"
"Let me see," she demanded, reaching for the box.
I held it just out of her grasp, teasing. "Ah, ah, ah, patience, darling. You know good things come to those who wait."
She pouted, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "Since when have we ever been good, Cam?"
"Fair point," I conceded, flipping open the rolodex. Names, identifying numbers, a weird, color-coded dot at the top of each card, an encrypted gold mine of information on the sick fucks who'd tortured us.
"You know what this means, don't you?" I asked.
Lakey's answering smile was razor-sharp. "Playtime?"
I nodded. "Oh yeah, baby. It's time to go hunting."
As I thumbed through the pages, visions of vengeance danced in my head. We'd make them pay, every last one of them. Slowly, painfully, creatively. The thought alone was enough to almost get over what they’d done to her.
Almost.
"You're thinking violent thoughts again," her tone was almost dreamy. "I can tell by that look in your eyes."
I grinned, pulling her close. "You know me so well, sweetheart. Wanna hear what I've got planned for these bastards?"
She nodded eagerly, and I began to outline our revenge, starting with figuring out what these cards meant.
Her fingers danced over the cards, her touch almost reverent. "So many names," she mused. "So many people who thought they could break us."
A shiver ran through her, and it wasn't from fear. This was excitement, pure and primal.
“Good thing we didn’t kill Skeeter. We’re gonna need him to track these names.”
“Yeah, don’t forget we got the Almines’ to deal with too.” She was bouncing on her toes as I spoke, “Though, maybe we should do them last. Kind of like a dessert?”
“Oh, I love that idea.” Her gaze suddenly looked far-away. “Skeets said they have a foster child… if I can’t have my own…”
"If you wanna bring her into our family, we will make that happen. I promise, Lakey," I vowed, sealing it with a kiss that sucked the oxygen from my lungs. "Together, we'll bring them all to their knees to kneel before my Queen."