Page 69 of Wicked Nightmare

"Good. You took Skeeter and that really hurt me, Cam."

Good ole Steve started to stir, groaning as consciousness returned. I skipped over, crouching down to peer into his face. "Wakey, wakey," I sing-songed, tapping his cheek. "Sorry, there's no eggs and bakey."

His eyes snapped open, panic setting in as he realized his predicament. I showed him all my teeth. "Now, now. No need to be scared... yet."

I stood, circling him slowly. My fingers trailed across his shoulders, feeling him tense beneath my touch. "You see," I explained, "we're going to have a little chat. And how much fun we have depends entirely on you."

Eh, fuck it, I wanna try something.

Skipping backwards, I grabbed the letter opener, and pressed the tip against his palm. Just enough pressure to dimple the skin, not quite breaking it. "Shall we begin?"

I dug the letter opener in just a hair deeper, drawing a thin line of blood. The operative winced, looking between me and Cam.

Cam leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Let's talk about Janine Almine," he said. "What's her role in Chimera?"

Steven's mouth opened and closed. I trailed the letter opener up his arm. "Cat got your tongue, Steve? Better start singing before I decide to carve you into a pretty little melody."

"Fuck... nothing! I don't know what you're talking about!" He stared at my face and then started blabbering. "I—I don't know much. She's high up, that's all I know!"

I tsked, shaking my head. "Now, now. We both know that's not true. Lying makes me very... upset."

Cam pushed off the wall, his steps heavy on the floor as he walked up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Let's try again. What's Chimera planning?"

Steven's face went white. Why were all these guys such bitches? Even I wouldn't be this afraid, but I could smell the terror coming off his skin. I leaned in close, whispering, "Better answer him, stinky pea. He's not as patient as I am." A lie, but he didn't need to know that.

"They're... they're planning something big," he blurted out. "Something about reclaiming what's theirs. That's all I know, I swear! What the fuck do you even need this information for? It's useless to a couple of fucking nuts."

I frowned, unsatisfied. My body tensed, eager to inflict more pain, to peel away his lies along with his skin. Cam's hand on my shoulder held me back.

"Reclaiming what, exactly?" Cam pressed.

The operative shook his head frantically. "I don't know the details. It's all cryptic. Something about lost assets, a project from years ago. Please, that's all I know!"

I looked at Cam. This wasn't nearly enough. My grip tightened on the letter opener, imagining all the ways I could make this man scream.

But first...

"What do you know about Lakey Aldrich and Cam Axley?"

"Wha—" his eyes narrowed as he studied our faces, and then something shifted. The fear drained out of him, replaced by something else. Recognition. And behind the recognition, a smile. Not a scared smile. A knowing one. The air in the room changed. This fucker seemed to grow in his chair as understanding swept over his face.

He wasn't afraid anymore. He'd figured out who we were, and instead of being terrified, he looked almost... proud.

"I know they're a pair of bitches, taking on more than they can chew."

Cam laughed. "Yeah, maybe. But how's about you humor us and tell us what you know."

The guy shifted in his seat, watching the letter opener as I tossed it back and forth between my hands. "Fine. Cam Axley, 27 years old, born in a laboratory to some cunt that didn't survive the surgery. Placed into foster care, bounced around, committed a crime and went to prison. Fell off the map upon release. Until now."

Born in a laboratory. The words hit me before they hit Cam. I could see them landing on him a second later, his jaw tightening, his shoulders going rigid. But he didn't interrupt. Neither did I.

"And me?" I pressed. I needed to know. Needed to hear the truth.

"Ahhh, Lakey. The Father's favorite little girl. You know, he called you the prodigal daughter, right up until you escaped. Stupid fucking nuns. I told them you wouldn't fit in there. After your escape, he went nuts, but... then he wiped his hands clean of you. Something else came up. Lost interest in finding the two of you. Got what he wanted and the rest... but, man, just look at you. You're stunning. A true masterpiece. The best we ever made. Well, almost the best. The role has been... reassigned."

"The fuck you mean, 'made'?"

"Oh, you're not as bright as I thought you'd be. Odd considering how fucking high your IQ scored in all the tests." He laughed, the sound grating against my skull. "You and Cam were the result of several decade long experiments. You were designed; each gene carefully selected until you were placed into your host. You were supposed to be something great. Something... more. How disappointing to see that this is what you've become."