Page 88 of Dolls & Daggers
“Sorry, little rat. I was busy desecrating your mother, and your innocent eyes didn’t need to see that.” He lifts Fang, nuzzling their noses together before setting him on the bed.
“I prefer the term worship!” I curl onto my side and pull up the sheet, fisting a hand in my hair to prop my head up as I watch him disappear down the hall.
Fang groans and puts a paw over his face and I can hear Wren laughing from down the hall.
“See? This is why we lock you out of the bedroom now,” I explain to my pup as I ruffle his head fur.
A few moments later, Wren appears with an elongated pink box. “Thisis your gift, Turtle Dove.” He hands it to me and perches on the edge of the bed as I scramble to a sitting position to open the box. “Happy birthday.”
“Baby, you didn’t have to get me anything!” My tone denotes my excitement as I tear the lid off and rip into the white tissue paper.
As I take in what lies inside, my breath catches. A decorative dagger gleams up at me. It’s the full lengthof my hand, with a glittering onyx blade and a pink shimmering hilt decorated with black and pink charms in the shape of bows and skulls. Hand-painted doves rest at the base of the tang.
“Do you like it?” Wren asks as a tear rolls down my cheek.
“I love it,” I whisper, not trusting my voice to not crack if I speak any louder.
“There’s an inscription on the back,” he says quietly, almost as if he’s unsure what my reaction will be.
I turn it over to see silvery words etched into the steel.
For life.
“Just like turtle doves,” Wren whispers. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Thank you, Songbird. This is beautiful and I will cherish it always.” I launch myself into his arms, sending Fang flying across the mattress.
Wren laughs, holding me while ensuring Fang doesn’t fall. “This is what our forever looks like, Turtle Dove.”
I push his hair off his forehead as I grin through my happy tears. “Does this mean you’re going to keep going on kills with me?”
He smiles before kissing me softly. My body comes alive again as he softly groans against my lips. “I’ll go,but only to be your muscle. You can keep being the vengeful vigilante.”
The soft thud of Fang getting off the bed is lost as Wren shifts me back against the pillows, pulling the sheet from my naked body. He takes the dagger and places it back in the box, setting it on the nightstand before joining me in bed.
“Hmmm, the Doll and her dagger.”
“I like the sound of that, Turtle Dove.”
I pull him to me, sealing our lips together as I wrap my legs around his waist.
Though he’s much taller than me, I feel like we fit together like a puzzle piece. I accept Wren for who he is and am in awe of all he’s overcome, and he treasures all of me—even the darkest parts. We were both missing a part of our soul the other makes whole.
And right now—I’ve never felt more complete.
Love in the Time of Serial Killers.
By Wrenley Campbell
Senior Investigative Journalist
When I returnedto the city after a decade away, it was for one reason and one reason only.
I wanted to meet the Baby Doll Killer.
Not only did I admire her aptitude for seeking out and cleansing the city of the filth that scours it, but I respected her. She had the audacity to film herself, to send the footage to the police along with the evidence of her victims' alleged crimes. It wasn’t just vengeance—it was a statement.
The Doll became my obsession. I revered her. I marveled at her. And, if I’m being honest, I wanted to stand before her—to meet her as an ally, of course.
