Page 89 of Wicked Little Nightmare

"Whatever comes," I murmured, "we face it together. You, me, and the kid."

Her grip tightened on my hand. It wasn’t often my girl needed me to be her backbone but tonight was one of the few. And like always, I’d cradle her heart in my hands until she was able to take it back and lock it back into the cage she’d forged around it. I didn’t say anything else, just kissed the top of her head and listened to her fall asleep.

As dawn broke, I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake the girls. I padded to the window, peering through the blinds.

There it was. That damn car, still sitting there like a black beetle, patient and menacing.

I felt my lips curl into a grin. Whoever was watching us had no idea what they were in for.

Game on, fuckers.

Thirty-Two: Lakey

The shattering glass jolted me awake, my heart instantly racing. Cam was already up, his massive frame silhouetted in the darkness. I watched him reach for the nightstand, the metallic click of his gun loud in the silence.

"Stay here, baby," he whispered, motioning with his hand to stay put.

Like hell I will. I grabbed my knives, one in each hand, ready to slice and dice ‘em. As soon as Cam slipped out the door, I was right behind him, silent as a shadow. The excitement bubbling in my chest felt like champagne - fizzy and intoxicating. Someone was about to have a very bad night, and it wasn't gonna be us.

We crept down the hallway, the floorboards creaking softly under Cam's weight. My bare feet made no sound at all. Up ahead, I could hear shuffling, the clumsy movements of our uninvited guest. Amateur hour.

Cam paused at the corner, gun at the ready. He glanced back at me, those dark eyes glittering with a familiar bloodlust. God, he was beautiful like this - all raw power and lethal grace. I gave him a feral grin, my fingers already itching for violence.

"Ready to play?" I mouthed.

He nodded once, a vicious smile curving his lips. Then we were moving, bursting into the living room like avenging angels. The intruder never stood a chance.

As Cam stepped forward, I circled left, keeping to the darkness. My heart pounded, but not from fear. This was pure, unadulterated thrill. We needed this. God, did we ever. Between all the playing house and the lows that came with not killing someone, we needed the burn. That sweet, delicious ache that crawled into our systems and wormed its way around until there was nothing but pin pointed vision and a target.

"Evenin', asshole," Cam drawled, his voice dripping with charm. "Bit late for a house call, don't you think?"

The intruder whirled, surprise evident even in silhouette. That moment of shock was all Cam needed. He closed the distance in two long strides, his right fist connecting with a sickening 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 too. It was just one of those things. 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, they were burning in my palms, wanting to get a slice of my latest muse.

The fight erupted in an instant. Fists flew; bodies slammed against furniture. I watched, transfixed, as Cam unleashed his brutality. He was poetry in motion, each blow calculated yet savage. The intruder fought back, landing a few hits of his own, but he was outmatched, and we all knew it. Almost the same sizeas Cam, but not nearly as well versed in murder. And Cam had practice from his underground fight ring days. He was a fucking madman when he fought.

Strange, really. This guy had to be one of the convents men, which was weird that they sent someone so ill prepared to our doorsteps. 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 back to attention. Blood roared in my ears, the familiar itch beneath my skin growing unbearable. I wanted — no,needed— to join in. To feel flesh give way under my fists, to taste the metallic tang of violence on my tongue.

"Cam," I whined, my voice husky with need. "Stop hogging all the fun."

He glanced at me, a feral 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 his swinging arm until I made it to the window, grabbing the light-weight 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.

"Surprise, motherfucker," I purred, tightening my grip. The rush that came with it set my nerve endings alight. Fuck, it felt so good to be moving my body like this again.

Cam's eyes met mine, dark with approval and something hungrier. "Sick move, Lakes," he growled, pinning the intruder's arms.

Together, we wrestled our unwelcome guest to the ground. We worked in perfect harmony - Cam's brute strengthcomplementing my vicious creativity. The intruder thrashed and gasped, but he didn't stand a chance against our twisted synergy.

"Grab the zip ties, babe," Cam instructed, his knee digging into the man's spine.

I reluctantly 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?

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