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He seems to be having trouble coming through the door. What a shame. Maybe someone should help the poor man out. So, like the gentleman I am, I unlock Journey's door and remove the chair from beneath the knob. There's no doubt he'll come creeping through and zero percent chance my Kitten will wake up. She's too drugged and sleeping too deeply to even sense him enter.
I step back further into the shadows, concealing my face when the door creaks open ever so slightly. Come on in, little intruder. It'll be the last thing you ever do. No one touches my little Kitten except the Devils. She's ours now.
"Fucking bitch," the guy slurs, stumbling in through the dark room toward Journey's passed-out form. "Trying to keep me out."
My kitten doesn't even flinch when he hovers above her, examining her bare legs. Internally, I curse myself for not protecting her flesh with the blanket. That should have been the first thing I did after checking her bruise. But no matter, he won't last much longer. He's looking at something that doesn't belong to him.
The shadows and I move as one, concealing me until I'm standing right behind the man. The smell of rank onions wafts off his skin when I peek over his shoulder. His fingers tremble, resting just above Journey's leg. Hovering there with ill intent. Well, until I grab his wrist and pull it straight back until the bones contort and snap under the pressure of my hand.
My other hand slaps over his mouth when he cries out, filling the room with his agony.
"Ah-ah, you shouldn't touch things that don't belong to you," I murmur, directly into his ear.
His wails grow higher pitched and his breaths pick up.
Tiny hits land on my shins as he kicks me. But I'm not deterred. The pain fuels my anger as I crack his wrist back further, basking in the way his body tenses in my grasp.
"I don't think you'll be touching anything any time soon."
Not that he'll live to ever do anything like this again. He's going straight to meet my growly friends—Maximilian and Nova. My pet lions, gifted to me by Jericho's father for my tenth birthday. What a hell of a way to ring in that year. Through the years, they've aided me in many interrogations. Place a man who doesn't want to squeal in the center of a lion's cage, he doesn't last very long. He'll spill his guts—literally—in a matter of minutes.
"Please!" he cries out in a pathetic voice from under my hand.
"Please what?" I ask, dragging him away from Journey to the corner of the room. Although I'd love for her to wake up and see what I'm doing to protect her, I can't chance her seeing this. "Please don't break your kneecap? That's always been a satisfying crunch. Please don't chop your balls into little pieces? I can't make any promises."
Tears roll down his face, drenching my fingers. Gross. There's nothing worse than tears. Not even blood. God, I love blood. Especially this man's. I can't wait to paint the world with his red life source.
"I wasn't going to touch her… I just wanted a look. Her mom keeps her hidden. She…" I grin, spin him around, and grip the front of his shirt tightly. I rear my fist back and slam it into his mouth until teeth spring from their place and land on the ground.
Oh, gifts for later.
"Ah, no. Think again. She is not for you to look at or touch. That girl is mine. She belongs to the Devils."
Ah. There it is. The paling. The sweating. My fingers twiddle with the fun stabber in my pocket. No, not my dick. Although, I could call him stabber instead of Big A. The little gift in my pocket is the necessary syringe I carry everywhere—the night-night juice. Jericho just doesn't understand why I need it. Well, this is prime example number one. You never know when someone needs to go to sleep in a matter of seconds. Chloroform can't even do that.
"So, you've heard of us? We're pretty notorious. You heard what we did down at the docks, didn't you?" I wiggle my brows when he shakily nods in my grip, and I continue my beautiful story. “That's when we obliterated the people responsible for running bad drugs and guns. We don't take kindly to people like you sneaking into places they shouldn't be and touching things that don't belong to them. You remember their bodies in the papers, don't you? Splattered all over the news. It was a warning. One, apparently, you didn't take seriously.” The asshole shakes uncontrollably in my grip, basically pissing himself when he realizes just what he's done. Maybe I should let him go to warn the others traipsing through this house night and day. Or, on second thought, I need some entertainment.
“Then you'll expect this." My grin grows wider when I plunge the fresh needle into his neck, dropping his consciousness like it's fucking hot.
Bye, bye rapey asshole. When you wake up, we'll have some fun.
I throw the fuckhead through the open window with ease and laugh when he rolls on the ground outside. I quickly find his teeth that fell out and scoop them into my palm. Grinning, I take the Polaroid camera hanging from a strap around my neck, snapping a picture of the man on the ground with blood trickling from his mouth.
"Perfect," I murmur, grabbing the picture and waving it around, revealing the black and white image of him on the ground. "She'll love this." I grin when I find a marker on her desk, writing a note at the bottom of the picture. “I'm always watching.”
I move beside her bed, placing the picture and his teeth on her pillow. Tomorrow, she'll know I protected her from the hands of this jerkwad. She'll be so happy! I take another picture of her sleeping soundly, remove it from the Polaroid camera, and wave it around.
Shit. I wish I could keep this with me forever. But she deserves to know what she looked like while she slept so deeply. So peaceful and carefree. She'll thank me later for saving her life.
"Goodnight, Kitten," I whisper, leaning down and kissing her lips. "We'll be together soon." Forever and ever. I've had a taste, and now, I need more and more.
My obsession festers under my skin, begging me to do everything under the sun to her. Tie her up. Gag her. Lock her to my bed. But I resist. For now. We've got shit to prove to her over the next few weeks. We'll grow our empire with our queen by our side and finally take everything from the paranoid asshole running these streets.
"No, Sunshine," she mumbles, twitching in her sleep. Her arms flail and her breaths pick up. Her head thrashes back and forth until she shoots up, eyes wide open.
I freeze beside her, taking in her glazed-over eyes darting around the room.
"Sunshine?" I question, waving a hand in front of her face.
