And then another.
Now to find the vibrator.
26
Cam
By the time I zip Adam into a body bag identical to his friend’s, the room smells like metal and regret. I drag both corpses to the walk-in freezer, my boots slick with what’s left of them. The door shuts with a hiss and I set a reminder in my phone—‘dispose tomorrow.’ Like that’ll make it feel routine.
It won’t.
The hose spurts to life, icy water cutting through blood and fragments of skull. Bits of Adam’s past swirl down the drain, but nothing washes clean. Not really.
And the whole time, all I can think is how badly I fucked this up.
I pushed her too hard. Took too much. She didn’t want it—not like that. And now she looks at me like I’m the next monster in line.
Maybe I am.
But I’m not Adam.
I’m not the man who broke her. I’m not the voice in her head telling her she’s worthless.
I just… wanted her to know that she’s not nothing. That the venom Adam fed her was never truth. Just cruelty wearing confidence like a second skin.
She’s driving me insane—in the best, and the worst way. She makes me feel everything too loud. And I’m trying—God, I’m trying—to be better. To be what she needs.
But maybe she doesn’t need desire clawing at her skin. Maybe she just needs someone who won’t leave. Because the truth is… I still want her. Every inch. Every sound she makes when she forgets to hate herself. But right now, wanting her isn’t the same as deserving her.
And her uncle?
That’s a name I need. A wound I need to open. I want to know every man who’s ever hurt her—every name, every face—and I want them to suffer for it. For turning her heart into a battlefield. For making her doubt she was ever worth more than the scars they left behind.
It makes me sick. The way Adam twisted her pain into something to throw at her. Like her trauma was ammunition, not survival.
I’ll get her to tell me. She has to. Because this isn’t just about shielding her from the monsters still lurking in the world. This is about exorcising the ones she still dreams about.
She doesn’t see it yet, but I’m not here to hurt her. I’m here to be the blade she never had—sharp, unrelenting, and aimed at the ghosts that tried to ruin her. I’ll protect her from all of them.
The familiar meows echo down the hall, and I know exactly where he is before the ball of ginger fluff even rounds the corner.
Boomerang pauses in the doorway, licking his lips—completely unfazed by the cocktail of DNA I just finished washing down the drain.
Only, apparently, I missed some. Because he trots straight to a splatter I didn’t catch and begins chewing with audible enthusiasm—loud, wet smacks as he chomps on what I can only assume is brain matter, like it’s his favourite brand of tuna.
And somehow—that’s what does it.
Not the murder. Not the freezer full of bodies. Not the blood on my shoes or the cracks in my soul.
It’s the cat. Cheerfully eating grey matter on the concrete.
My stomach lurches, sharp and sudden. Nausea coils tight in my throat, and I have to look away, focus on anything else just to keep from unravelling completely.
That damn cat.
I scoop him up, careful to avoid the evidence smeared on his whiskers, and strip off the apron that’s in desperate need of a wash. He doesn’t protest, just blinks at me like this is all perfectly ordinary. I carry him back inside, but tonight, he’s not getting free rein of the countertops. I hold onto him—more for me than him—as I move through the house.
I pause outside Nell’s door. I don’t know if I’m looking for an excuse to check on her or if this was the plan all along. Doesn’t matter. I don’t give myself time to overthink it.
