Page 90 of I Never Stopped Loving You

I hunt them down like the dogs they are. Torture them. Show them photos of the crimes they committed and the hospital reports a broken arm from ‘slipping and falling down the steps’. The busted eye and lip from ‘hitting their face on an open cabinet’. That’s probably the most obvious one. Oh, and then there’s the broken fingers from ‘slamming them in a car door’.

All the lies these victims had to tell just to keep breathing, trying to make it to one more sunrise. Deborah was no exception to that. As I got older and could start looking into the case on my own, I found so many hospital reports of both her and Willow that I nearly went up there and burnt the fucking building to the ground. Useless. All of them. They swear to protect and care, but what do they do? They turn a blind eye to the real victims because they are afraid of sticking their nose where they don’t belong.

Well, I don’t just stick my nose in it. I shove my whole goddamn hand in, grip onto the attackers’ and murderers’ still beating hearts, and rip them from their chests. Where the system fails, I succeed. I’ve been doing this for the last two years. As soon as my father started taking me to shadow his cases for my final years of law school, that’s when my demons fully rose to the surface, scratching and gnawing their way out.

This is how I satiate their hunger, their desire to kill. So far in two years, I’ve killed eleven men. All pieces of shit that killed either their spouse or their child, yet somehow they didn’t have enough damnable evidence to put them away, or magically the case was thrown out the window due to mishandling of evidence or tampering. How fucking convenient.

Now that I have my little hidden sanctuary right inside my home, I have a feeling my kill count is going to skyrocket. I won’t stop killing and avenging Willow’s mother and all the other victims until Willow is back in my arms. Maybe then my demons will let me rest.

“I can’t let you go, James. I could say I wish I could let you go, but I don’t. I’ll let you know a little secret, James…”

I step to his right, leaning closer to him so he can hear every fucking venom-laced syllable that leaves my lips.

“You won’t be breathing when you leave this hell.”

CHAPTER 41

NOAH

NOVEMBER PRESENT DAY

To say I am an absolute fuck up in the kitchen is no lie. You want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich? Trust me, I’ll somehow end up fucking that up. The waffles were either slightly burnt or still a bit too gooey in the center. By the time I was done with that, the eggs were cold. Batter is somehow everywhere, including the ceiling. I don’t know how the fuck that even happened.

The only thing that turned out right was the coffee. Yet, this woman sitting cross-legged on the couch next to me, wearing my hoodie and boxers, looks as happy as can be. She smiles with every bite as if I just cooked her a five-star meal. How the hell could I get so lucky?

“Sorry about the food,” I say as I pop another bite of waffle, if you could call it that, into my mouth.

To cover some of the burnt taste, I pulled out whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and strawberry syrup.

“It’s actually really good. Stop apologizing.”

“Woman, do those shots numb your taste buds too?” I tease.

“No, just my brain.”

She swipes a finger through the pile of whipped cream on my plate and bops me on the nose. The sticky-sweet cream sits there for a moment, causing me to look cross-eyed before it drops off my nose and onto my bare chest. I never ended up getting another shirt after she used mine to wipe up the batter. She’s cracking up next to me, leaving me stunned.

“Oh, really. You want to play like that, Little Rabbit?”

I quickly set down my plate on the coffee table and grab the can of Reddi-Wip. She knows exactly what I’m going to do.

“Noah, no. Don’t you dare,” she shrieks as she tries to get up off the couch, but I catch her and pull her back down.

“It’s only fair. I can’t be sweeter than you,” I say as I flip her onto her back on the couch and straddle her hips.

“No. Please no. Don’t. I just showered,” she laughs as she holds my wrist and starts pushing my arm away.

It’s raised just above her head, ready to spray the Reddi-Wip all over her face.

“Then it’s a good thing I have a large hot water tank.”

“But your clothes.”

“I have more clothes,” I counter.

“But your couch,” she shrieks through the laughter as I try to hold her down without putting too much pressure on her.

Fuck. The feeling of her beneath me is causing my brain to stray to very tempting thoughts, and I need to get my mind under control before she feels exactly how much I’m enjoying this.