Page 96 of Wicked Little Nightmare

"Jesus, keep him still," I growled at Lakey, who had stopped helping me to watch as the blood dripped down his neck, splashing on the table and down onto the floor. Her fingers reached out, going into the wound and playing around in it. The squelching was fascinating, accentuated by his hollers. It was surprising that he hadn’t passed out yet, but it made it so much better that he hadn’t.

"Oh, hush," she teased, leaning in closer. "I’m doing what I can." But she came around behind me, crawled up onto the table, and sat on his back. Not sure what that would do since she was basically a paper weight, but at least it was more productive than just trying to stick her fingers in his head.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the smirk tugging at my lips. Even in the middle of amateur hour, she could still make me grin like an idiot.

As I peeled back the flap of skin a bit further, my breath caught. There it was - a tiny chip, drilled right into the base of his skull. It was a mess of wires running downwards toward the baseof his neck, way more complicated than I'd expected. One wire stood out with a tiny red blinker beside it

"Shit," I muttered. "You watching that phone?"

"Why? You got something? I can’t see from up here. Your fat head is blocking my view"

I nodded, reaching for the wire cutters. "Let's find out."

With a deep breath, I snipped the wire at its base. For a second, nothing happened. Then Lakey's delighted laugh filled the room.

"It worked!" she squealed, practically dancing. "His little blinking dot just went dark. You did it, Cam!"

I let out a long, relieved breath, a rush of satisfaction flooding through me. "How about that," I chuckled, wiping the blood off my hands. "Guess I've got a future in neurosurgery after all."

Pushing my fingers into Beavers neck, I checked for a pulse. Yup. It worked indeed. Much easier than I had anticipated. Certainly easier than the manual made it out to be, but maybe that was intentional.

I sighed, wiping my hands on Beaver’s shirt. Now to decide what the fuck to do with our patient.

Thirty-Four: Lakey

The asshole’s blood dripped onto the kitchen floor with a steady plink, plink, plink. I couldn't tear my eyes away from his mangled skull, a masterpiece of peeled skin that exposed him straight down to his bone. My fingers twitched, itching to add a few more brushstrokes.

"We need to decide what to do with this piece of shit," Cam said, giving me his knife to wash.

I chewed my lip, weighing our options, getting off the table and heading to the sink to run his knife under hot water. The blood swirled down the sink in a beautiful pattern, almost like a watercolor painting. "We could always dump him in the river. Fishes gotta eat too, right?" I giggled at my own joke, but Cam didn't crack a smile.Party pooper.

"Firstly, it’s fish. Secondly, this time it isn't a fucking game," he snapped. "If Chimera finds out we have one of their operatives..."

I rolled my eyes. "Woah, who pissed in your cereal. Relax, babe. They won't find out if there's nothing left to find." I traced a finger along our patient’s cheek, savoring the way he flinched as he was slowly coming around from his pain induced state. "I vote we carve him up nice and slow. Make him sing for us."

Cam's dark eyes met mine, a flicker of approval mixed with exasperation. He opened his mouth to reply, but a sharp knock at the door cut him off.

We both froze, exchanging a look ofwhat the actual fuck?My heart started pounding like a jackhammer.Who the hell could that be? We didn’t have friends.

"Shit," Cam hissed, already moving towards the door. His whole body was tense, ready to pounce. I couldn't help but admire the way his muscles rippled under his shirt. Blood was splattered up his neck and across his cheeks. He looked like a butcher.Ugh, it was so sexy. Focus, Lakey. Now's not the time to get horny.

I watched Cam's face as he peered through the peephole, curious to see who had interrupted our little torture party. His expression morphed from annoyance to shock in the blink of an eye.

"No fucking way," he muttered, his hand hovering over the doorknob.

My curiosity was killing me. "Who is it?" I stage-whispered, inching closer. "The ghost of Christmas Past? Girl Scouts selling cookies? Ooh, I hope it's cookies."

Cam shot me a look that clearly saidshut up,but I just grinned back.What can I say? Danger makes me giddy.

As he slowly opened the door, I felt a thrill of excitement race through me. Whoever was on the other side was about to makeour night a whole lot more interesting. And if they turned out to be a threat... Well, there was always room for one more on our little torture table.

I craned my neck, trying to get a better view as Cam opened the door just a crack. His massive frame blocked most of my view, but I caught a glimpse of a familiar face that shocked me.

"Well, fuck me sideways," I breathed, my eyes widening.

There, standing in the doorway like she'd just popped out for milk instead of disappearing for years, was Sarah. Our old social worker. The one who'd tried to "save" us back when we were bouncing around from home to home.

I pushed past Cam, ignoring his grunt of protest. "Sarah?" I whispered, my voice coming out all weird and breathy. For a split second, I felt like that scared little girl again, desperate for someone to care.

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