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“Even in a flock of lambs, there can be a wolf at heart, and among wolves, there can be one with the gentleness of a lamb.” ~ Unknown
Thoughts of my little lamb swirled in my head as I entered the abandoned warehouse where I was keeping John. I’d left some food and water next to him to keep him alive for a while. I hadn’t told Ella that I had the man who’d hurt her in captivity. Once she’d spoken his name, I nearly told her I’d kidnapped him already. And she was right, I’d stumbled across John’s activity with her and other children on the dark web before I ever appeared in her home.
I whistled “London Bridge is Falling Down” as I walked to the back of the building where John was held. The song was almost as dark as I was, but not quite. One theory suggested it referenced Viking attacks in the eleventh century. Another explained it was about entombing live children in the foundations of bridges to ensure they wouldn’t collapse. Buried alive—what a shit way to die. As I continued, the lyrics stirred my imagination of how to possibly kill the bastard, but I hadn’t decided yet.
The rusty door creaked as I opened it and then walked into the dank and dark room. I flipped on the light switch and waited for my eyes to adjust.
“Have you missed me?” I asked John as he huddled in the corner, still wearing his undershirt and boxers. I’d considered giving him warmer clothes, but I didn’t want to waste them on someone who would die soon.
“Have you gotten any muscle cramps?” I laughed, enjoying my warped sense of humor. It wasn’t as if he could walk around and stretch since I’d nailed his feet to the floor when I’d arrived. This particular room had been used as an office and had wood floors. It was perfect for nailing the son of a bitch down.
John grunted at me with his eyelids half closed. His pain must be overwhelming, and his knee would never recover—not that he would ever need it again.
“I met one of your friends.” I kneeled and adjusted my mask, staring straight into his corrupted soul.
“Yeah?” He laid his hand on his broken leg and winced. He’d propped himself up on the wall, weak and exhausted. His boxers were stained from pissing himself, but I’d smelled worse.
I sucked air between my teeth before I responded. “Ella McCloud.”
He chuckled as a twisted smile slipped into place. “She was a pretty little thing. How’d she turn out?”
My hand shot out and wrapped around his throat. “Beautiful and strong, but you touched what is mine.”
His round cheeks reddened as I tightened my hold, ready to kill this motherfucker for what he said about her, but I couldn’t—not yet.
“Who else worked with you and found the kids for your disgusting pictures and videos?” My hand fell away as he sputtered and coughed.
“Like I’d tell you. Just know that killing me won’t stop it. Someone will take my place and continue with our art.”
A blinding rage gripped me and ignited an inferno of inescapable wrath.
“Art? You call sexually abusing kids art? You’re more screwed up in the head than I thought you were.” I drew closer, a mere inch from his ugly mug. “If I wasn’t a fucked-up individual as well, I would snap your neck right now and put you out of your misery, but I have other things planned for you.”
I rose and stomped on his other knee. His screams of pain and swearing bouncing off the walls of the small room gave me almost as much pleasure as being inside Ella’s cunt.
Strolling out as if I’d just won the lottery, I secured the door behind me and left.
Chapter 32
Ella
Ipaced my living room, chewing on my thumbnail like a bunny munching on a carrot. It had been four days since Death had visited, and I was terrified that he’d slipped up and the cops had arrested him. I slapped my hands over my face and groaned at the fact that I’d gone from not wanting him here to developing feelings for a maniac. It was as if he’d breathed new life into my boring existence. The irony of that tidbit hadn’t escaped me. My heart betrayed me again, flip-flopping to wanting the safe and comfortable with Sebastian returning. It had been almost three weeks since he’d left, and I longed to see him, kiss him. Dread seeped inside me as I reminded myself how tricky managing Death and Sebastian at the same time would be. Not only tricky, but dangerous.
“You’re lying to everyone you love,” I muttered to myself.
“Don’t worry, little lamb. You’ll get used to it.”
I whirled on my heels and ran to the masked man in my kitchen. Throwing my arms around his neck, I wrapped my legs around his waist and buried my cheek against his chest. “You’re okay?”
His body stiffened but after a few seconds he pulled me against him. “Always.” He held me tightly.
“I was worried the police had arrested you.” I released him and slid down his muscular body until I could set my feet on the ground.
He wound strands of my hair around his fingers and jerked my head back, his eyes narrowing. “What’s going on?”
“We need to talk.” He released me and I led him to the couch, then quickly closed my curtains to prevent any nosy neighbors from looking inside.
Sitting next to him, I tucked one of my legs beneath me and turned to him with a serious expression. “Cami, my best friend is going out with a cop. He’s on your case, and they found a partial boot print. You have to be more careful.”
