Page 33 of Wicked Little Nightmare

I watched her move, graceful as a panther, towards the cluttered desk. Even covered in dust and God-knows-what from the jars she'd smashed, she was fucking irresistible. My pants grew tight. Maybe I would have to fuck her in here after all, gangrene be damned.

"See anything good?" I asked, starting to rifle through a stack of files on a nearby shelf.

She didn't answer right away, her nimble fingers already sorting through the mess on the desk. I could practically see the wheels turning in that brilliant, twisted mind of hers.

"Cam," she said finally, her voice tight. "These... these are medical records."

I moved closer, peering over her shoulder. "What kind of medical records?"

"The kind that make me want to resurrect these bastards just so I can kill them again," she spat.

I felt a chill run down my spine, not from fear, but from the ice in her voice. This was Lakey at her most dangerous. The cold calculation. When she was angry, she was unpredictable, but when she was ready to cleanse the earth, she became someone else entirely. A being of perfect calm, someone who was laser focussed. Who could make a decision in a split second and know it was the right one.

"Show me," I said, my hand settling on the small of her back.

She passed me a file, her fingers brushing mine as she stared up at me. Even in this dank basement, that simple touch sent electricity through me. I opened the file and started reading, feeling my own anger rising with each word.

"Fuck," I breathed. "Lakey, this is—"

"I know," she cut me off abruptly. "Keep looking. There has to be more. I need to find Lydia… and me."

We fell into silence then, the only sound the rustle of paper as we dug deeper into the horrors documented so neatly in black and white. I kept sneaking glances at Lakey, watching the play of emotions across her face. Anger, disgust, pain – and underneath it all, a fierce determination that made my chest tighten.

This was why I loved her. Not despite the darkness inside her, but because of it. Because she could stare into the abyss and not only come out the other side but drag the monsters into the light to burn alongside her.

"Hey," I said softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "We're gonna make this right."

She looked up at me, her blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears and barely contained rage. "Promise?"

I nodded, cupping her face in my hands. "Cross my black little heart, sweetheart. No one's ever gonna hurt you again without answering to me."

A ghost of a smile flickered across her face. "My big, bad wolf," she murmured, leaning into my touch.

"Always," I promised.

The moment shattered as Lakey's eyes widened, fixating on something behind me. "Cam," she breathed, her voice a mixture of horror and fascination. "Look."

I turned, following her gaze to a dusty filing cabinet tucked in the corner. Its top drawer was slightly ajar, a yellowed folder peeking out.

"Well, well," I drawled, sauntering over. "What nasty little secrets are you hiding?"

I yanked the drawer open, the metal screeching in protest. Inside was a treasure trove of depravity – files upon files, each labeled with a name and a number in the right-hand corner. My stomach churned as I recognized some of them from the jars in the other room.

"Jackpot," I muttered, pulling out a handful and spreading them on the desk.

Lakey was at my side in an instant, her fingers tracing the names with a reverence that sent chills down my spine. "It's all here," she whispered. "Everything they did to us. Every sick, twisted experiment."

I flipped open the nearest file, my eyes skimming over clinical descriptions of torture that made even my hardened heart skip a beat. "Jesus, fuck," I breathed.

Female circumcision. No anesthetic. Deceased. Hysterectomy. No anesthetic. Deceased.

Her laugh was brittle, bordering on hysterical. "What's the matter, big guy? Too much for even you to handle?"

I met her gaze, seeing the challenge there. "Naw, just trying to find your file." Truth was, this is fucking grotesque, but I had to save my inner crusader for the right time.

She scanned the files. “I don’t see it here.” With a sigh she opened another folder. “I don’t see Lydia’s either, but I guess they tried to perform an abortion on Sarah. No anesthetic, ofcourse. Seems to be their favorite way of inflicting pain. Guess who was the beaming daddy?”

“Father Christopher, of course.” I looked over the office with a more critical eye. If he had felt any which way about Lakey, or noticed how special she was, like most of our foster fathers had, he’d have put her file somewhere where no one would find it.

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