32. Chapter Thirty-Two Lakey
Chapter Thirty-Two: Lakey
The shattering glass jolted me awake, my heart hammering before my brain caught up. Cam was already on his feet, his massive frame cutting through the dark. He reached for the nightstand, the metallic click of his gun loud in the quiet.
"Stay here, baby," he whispered, motioning with his hand.
Like hell I will.
I grabbed my knives, one in each hand, the handles cold from sitting next to the bed all night.
As soon as Cam slipped out the door, I was right behind him, barefoot and silent.
The excitement bubbling in my chest was immediate.
Automatic. Someone had broken into our apartment, and my first thought wasn't fear.
It was finally.
We'd been cooped up for weeks. Playing house. Playing nice. Playing at being people who didn't need the violence to feel whole. And now someone had come to our door uninvited, and every cell in my body was awake for the first time since the amusement park.
We crept down the hallway, the floorboards creaking under Cam's weight. My steps made no sound at all. Up ahead, shuffling. Clumsy movements. Our uninvited guest stumbling over furniture in the dark. Amateur hour.
Cam paused at the corner, gun up. He glanced back at me, those dark eyes lit up with something I recognized because I was wearing the same expression. He was hungry. We both were.
"Ready to play?" I mouthed.
He nodded once. That vicious smile. The one that made my stomach drop and my thighs clench at the same time. Then we were moving, bursting into the living room together.
The intruder never stood a chance.
As Cam stepped forward, I circled left, keeping to the shadows.
My heart was slamming against my ribs but not from fear.
This was pure, uncut thrill. We needed this.
God, did we ever. Between all the domesticity and the low-grade withdrawal that came from not hurting anyone for too long, we needed the burn.
That sweet, vicious ache that crawled into our systems and tunneled through everything soft until there was nothing left but pinpoint vision and a target.
"Evenin', asshole," Cam said. "Bit late for a house call, don't you think?"
The intruder whirled. That moment of shock was all Cam needed. He closed the distance in two long strides, his right fist connecting with a crunch. I could practically feel the impact in my own knuckles, and fuck if it didn't make me all hot and bothered.
Cam didn't like using guns unless he absolutely had to and he’d gotten this one off some random mark a while back. Guess he thought he might need it, but turns out this guy was just as stupid as he looked.
Honestly, I didn't like guns much myself. I preferred the beauty I created as my paint poured from my canvas, dousing me in one-of-a-kind masterpieces. And right now, my babies were burning in my palms, wanting to get a slice of my latest muse.
The fight erupted. Fists flew, bodies slammed against furniture.
I watched, transfixed, as Cam unleashed.
He was something to see when he fought, each blow landing where he wanted it, when he wanted it, with exactly the force he intended.
The intruder fought back, landing a few hits of his own, a left hook that snapped Cam's head sideways, an elbow to the ribs that made him grunt.
But he was outmatched, and everyone in the room knew it.
Almost the same size as Cam, but not nearly as well-versed in how to put someone down and keep them there.
And Cam had practice from his underground fight ring days.
He was a fucking madman when he fought. A beautiful, terrifying, devastating madman.
Strange, really. This guy had to be one of the convent's men, which was weird. Why send someone so unprepared to our doorstep? I'd have to remember to ask him how the fuck he got up here. It wasn't like those old fire steps worked anymore. Rusted to shit these days.
The crash of my favorite vase snapped me out of my front-row-seat haze.
Blood roared in my ears, the itch beneath my skin growing unbearable.
I wanted to join in. No. I needed to join in.
To feel flesh give way under my hands, to taste the metallic tang of violence on my tongue.
I'd been a spectator for too long. Weeks of playing nice, of being gentle, of teaching Rose how to throw a punch without throwing one myself.
It had built up inside me, all that restrained energy, and now it was screaming for release.
"Cam," I whined. "Stop hogging all the fun."
He glanced at me, a grin splitting his face. "All yours, baby. Show our guest some hospitality."
I didn't need to be told twice.
I lunged forward, ducking around the intruder's swinging arm until I made it to the window.
I grabbed the lightweight cotton curtain as I went.
Cam tripped him, sending him face-first onto the ground.
The fabric tore from its rod with a satisfying rip, and I spun, twisting it around the intruder's neck before he could blink.
His eyes bulged as I yanked back, using my knees as leverage on his shoulders, cutting off his air supply.
The tendons in my forearms popped with the strain and it felt fucking incredible.
Every nerve ending firing. Every muscle engaged.
This was what my body was built for. Not braiding hair. Not making grilled cheese.
This.
"Surprise, motherfucker," I said, tightening my grip.
Cam's eyes met mine over the intruder's thrashing head. Dark with approval. Dark with something hungrier. "Sick move, Lakes." He pinned the intruder's arms.
Together, we wrestled our unwelcome guest to the ground. We worked in perfect sync, Cam's brute strength complementing my vicious creativity, the way it always had, the way it always would. The intruder thrashed and gasped, but he didn't stand a chance against us. Nobody ever did.
"Grab the zip ties, babe," Cam said, his knee digging into the man's spine.
I loosened my grip on the curtain, mourning the loss of control for just a moment. As I rummaged through our "fun drawer" beside the couch, a giggle bubbled up in my throat. Who said romance was dead?
Bet we'll fuck like rabbits after this.
"Here you go, darling," I tossed him the ties. "Want me to get the chair?"
He nodded, already securing the intruder's wrists. I dragged over our sturdiest dining chair, humming a cheery tune that clashed beautifully with the grunts and curses of our captive.
"Up you go, sweetheart," I cooed, helping Cam hoist the man into the seat. "There, all comfy cozy!"
Just as we finished securing our uninvited guest, a blur of movement caught my eye.
Rose burst into the room, and I use "burst" loosely because what she actually did was launch herself over the coffee table with a speed and grace that did not belong to the same girl who'd been tripping over her own feet during training three hours ago.
"Well, fuck me sideways," I muttered.
Her eyes were wild, locked onto the intruder.
In one fluid motion, she grabbed my second favorite vase and swung it like a baseball bat, connecting with a crunch against the man's jaw.
The vase shattered. Ceramic everywhere. Blood sprayed across the arm of the couch.
The intruder's head snapped sideways so hard I thought she'd broken his neck.
"Jesus Christ!" Cam jerked back. "Where the hell did that come from?"
I couldn't help but cackle, despite the fact that both my vases were now destroyed. "Looks like our little flower has some thorns after all."
Rose stood there, chest heaving, the broken base of the vase dangling from her white-knuckled grip.
The look in her eyes was familiar. Too familiar.
The same feral gleam that stared back at me in the mirror after a particularly satisfying kill.
And that should have scared me, probably, but it didn't. It made something click into place, something I'd been feeling since the first night she showed up at our door but couldn't put words to.
She was one of us. Maybe not by choice, maybe not by experience, but by whatever Chimera had put inside her, she was wired the same way we were.
"Aren't you just full of surprises? Rose, I love what you did to his face, but you could have killed him. Also, not super impressed that now both my vases are broken."
She barely spared me a glance, her teeth bared.
She'd done a number on him. The whole right side of his face was split open, the cheekbone caved in, blood pouring down his neck and soaking into his collar.
It was gonna be a frustrating clean, but at least she didn't knock him unconscious.
We needed him awake. We needed him talking.
Cam frowned. He was puzzled about Rose's sudden transformation. The speed. The accuracy. The way she'd gone from sleeping to violent in seconds, no warmup, no hesitation.
"Time for a little chat, I think," he said.
I cracked my knuckles and whirled on the intruder. "Oh goody, I do so love our heart-to-hearts. Shall we start with who the fuck you are and why you're interrupting our beauty sleep?"
He spat blood, glaring up at us. "Go to hell, you psychotic bitch."
I tsked, wagging a finger. "Now, now. That's not very nice. Babe, perhaps our friend needs some motivation to be more... cooperative?"
Cam's answering smile was all teeth. "With pleasure, babe."
His fist connected with the intruder's face and the nose exploded. The bone shoved sideways at an angle that would've made me wince if I gave a shit, which I didn't. More blood poured down his chin and he groaned, spitting out a tooth that skittered across the floor and disappeared under the couch.
"Let's try this again," I said, tapping my foot. "Who sent you?"
He coughed, more blood, more spit. "Chimera," he gasped. "They want the girl back."