Page 126 of Wicked Nightmare

Lakey's eyes lit up. "How could I forget? That's when I learned how creative you could get with a lighter, a metal bucket, and some stolen booze."

I grinned, about to remind her of exactly how we'd kept warm those cold nights, when Sarah's voice cut through.

"Rose, why don't I show you to your room?" She gestured towards a narrow staircase. "It's just upstairs."

Rose hesitated, looking at us for confirmation. She looked ready to bolt. Guess Sarah's trauma work was only useful while it was being done. I snorted. Easier to just tuck it away in a locked box and release it when you needed a little extra oomph.

Sarah must have sensed it too. Her voice softened. "It's okay, sweetie. You're safe here. I promise."

Unease twisted in me. Not jealousy, not concern. Just an unease as Sarah gently guided Rose towards the stairs. It reminded me of Mrs. Keene, a respite worker, the only one of those fucks who'd ever shown me an ounce of kindness. For a moment, I was back in that dingy kitchen, eleven years old and scarred in more ways than one, as Mrs. Keene tended to my latest injuries with gentle hands and soft words. We were only there for a couple of days a month, but she was always kind. It was the only reason she didn't make the list.

"You okay, baby?" Lakey's voice pulled me back.

I shook off the memory. "Never better, sweetheart. Just thinking about all the fun we could have in a place like this."

Lakey's grin was wicked. "Oh, I'm counting on it."

Kyle cleared his throat. "Alright, enough. Time for the grand tour of our little fortress."

I raised an eyebrow. "What, no chocolate on the pillow?"

Kyle snorted. "Sorry, fresh out. But I've got something better."

He pressed a hidden panel in the wall. A portion slid open with a soft hiss. My eyes widened as I took in the arsenal concealed within.

"Holy shit," I breathed, running my fingers over the gleaming metal of an assault rifle. "You weren't kidding about being prepared."

Lakey's eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Ooh, dibs on the sniper rifle!"

I chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist. "You don't even like guns." I poked her in the ribs. "Let's hope we don't need to use any of this. If this place is as good as you say, we shouldn't need to."

Kyle nodded. "Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. There are more hidden compartments throughout the house. I'll show you the rest later."

As he continued his tutorial on the defenses, my attention drifted. Sarah and Rose's muffled voices floated down from upstairs. I noticed Lakey's gaze flicking towards the sound.

"You happy, babe?" I murmured, giving her hip a gentle squeeze.

Lakey's smile was brittle. "Just peachy. Why wouldn't I be?"

I studied her face. The conflict in those beautiful, dangerous eyes. The battle between her softer impulses and the darkness she wanted to unleash.

"You know," I said softly, "it's okay to care about the kid. Doesn't make you weak."

Lakey's laugh was sharp. "Says the emotionally stunted nut."

I shrugged. "Takes one to know one, sweetheart."

An hour later, the stove crackled, casting flickering shadows across our little band of misfits. I lounged on the threadbare couch, Lakey curled against my side. The smell of Sarah's beef stew filled the room.

"This is nice," I said. "Real cozy. Just a few friends, hanging out."

Kyle snorted, ladling out bowls. "Yeah, if your show involves guns and death."

"You've clearly never met my foster families," I said. Fists and broken bottles flashed through my mind. I pushed them away, focusing on the warmth of Lakey against me.

Sarah shot me a look. "Can we be serious for a moment? We need to discuss our next move."

I raised an eyebrow. "By all means."