Page 92 of Wicked Nightmare

"Don't worry, buttercup. I've got some clothes that'll fit you just fine," I said, gesturing for her to follow me. "Not gonna hurt you. I'd have done it already. I don't really play with my food. Ask Cam."

He snorted and rolled his eyes, earning himself a glare before I grinned and winked at him, relishing in the way he watched me walk away, putting a little extra pep in my step just for him.

As we walked to the closet, she hugged the walls, like she was trying to disappear into them. Her eyes never left me, watching my every move. Smart girl. At least she had survival instincts. Those will come in handy.

I flung open the closet door with a flourish. "Ta-da! Pick your poison."

Rose hesitated, her gaze fixed on the array of clothes. She was taller than me, but about the same size. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself, and I caught a glimpse of angry red scars peeking out from under her sleeve.

"Aw, come on now," I coaxed. "No need to be shy. We're all friends here."

I reached out, gently tugging at her arm. She tensed, and for a second, I thought she might bolt. But then something in her shifted. It wasn't trust, I'm not that fucking delusional, but maybe a flicker of resignation.

As she slowly lowered her arms, the full extent of her scars was visible. They crisscrossed her skin like a roadmap of pain. For a moment, just a split second really, I felt bad for her.

"Hey," I said, my voice softer than I intended. "We've all got our battle scars, yeah? Nothing to be ashamed of."

Rose's eyes met mine, searching for... fuck knows what. Empathy? Good luck with that, honey.

Christ, was I going soft? I was. I noticed it a little more every day and it had everything to fucking do with the little girl waiting for me somewhere. Somewhere that I couldn't get to.

Yet. Anyway.

"Look," I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Pick whatever you want. No judgment here. Hell, we could be twins if you wanted. Matching outfits and all that cutesy shit. I got some stripper clothes in there, but I don't think walking around in nipple tassels is a great idea. Kind of draws attention, ya know?"

The corner of Rose's mouth twitched.

Cam's gaze was on us before I saw him. That prickle on the back of my neck, the one I'd learned to trust years ago. I glanced over my shoulder, catching his eye from across the room.

Fuck. His face was doing that thing, that barely-there softness that made my stomach twist. It wasn't the look he gave me when he wanted to fuck or kill. This was different. Protective, almost.

I turned back to Rose, fighting the urge to bare my teeth. "Come on, little one. Let's get you dressed and presentable. Can't have you looking like a hot mess in our humble abode, can we?"

Rose nodded, her movements still hesitant as she picked through the clothes. I kept my tone light, but inside, my thoughts were a fucking tornado. Was Cam getting attached? To her? The idea made me want to laugh and stab something simultaneously. No. Not my Cam. He's just following my lead. No need to be jealous over a little mouse.

He lived for me. Breathed for me. He'd never even side-eye another girl unless I told him I wanted him to. And I didn't.

Once Rose was dressed, looking less like a hostage and more like an actual human, I led her to the living room. "There we go. Much better, right? You clean up nice, kid."

I flopped onto the couch, patting the spot next to me. Rose perched on the edge, as if sitting next to me would put her in immediate danger of dying.

"So," I said, flashing my most disarming smile. "Tell me, Rose. What's your favorite way to unwind after a long day of... whatever the fuck it is you do when you're not being tortured by our Father?"

Her whole face opened up.

I leaned in, conspiratorial. "Me? I like a good bubble bath. Scented candles, glass of wine, maybe some light stabbing. You know, the classics."

A strangled sound escaped Rose's throat. It took me a second to realize it was a laugh, or at least, an attempt at one.

Well, shit. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

I kept chattering away, watching her rigid posture slowly start to unwind. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Cam's gaze flicking our way. He went back to his papers, but I could tell his focus was split. He wanted to join us but knew better than to intervene on girl's time. After all, Rose was my first bona fide friend.

"So, anyway," I said, leaning back and stretching my legs out. "You're quite the mystery, aren't you? Chained in the basement. Part of the big nun thing, too, eh?"

Fear flickered across her face. Hmmm, hit a nerve there. She must have spent some time at the nunnery judging by the expression she wore.

"Hey, no judgment here," I said, waving a hand. "We've all got our trauma. At least that's what google tells me."