Page 32 of Judas (The Lito Duet #2)

There’s absolutely no way they didn’t see a girl back there and I need to find out.

Composing myself, I march over as I initially intended to and lift the trunk open.

Dreading the worst, I’m left breathless—stunning blue eyes stare up at me.

Rimmed in red from incessant crying, cheeks lined with tear streaks in various stages of drying.

She’s so beautiful like this—vile innocence.

At our last stop, I stuffed a cloth gag into her mouth and secured it with another longer cloth by wrapping it around her head.

It’s now wet with her tears and drool. A few days back, we stopped at a motel and I forced her into the shower.

She was trying to defy but I couldn’t stand to look at her, nor smell her, in the remnants of my blood and hers.

Of course I had to restrain her; she was trying to fight me again, but we eventually got it over with.

Clean, redressed, and back in the corner she chose to cry in.

With enough time to catch the evening news.

Her arms are secured to her hips by rope so she can’t pull the gag from her mouth, which also restricts her movements.

That fact only confuses me further. Checking her over, the dark blue T-shirt I shoved her in, along with a pair of shorts I stole from the motel's laundromat, are rumpled and skewed around her thin frame. Then… then there’s all of the new abrasions on her hands, elbows, and knees.

Pink and angry from whatever the hell she did, ‘cause I sure as fuck didn’t put those on her. I’ve beaten her enough.

“What did you do?” I growl.

Sadie shook her head.

Lord, give me strength.

“Did they see you?”

Another shake of her head.

“How?”

Watching her closely, I see as she rolls to the back of the trunk and proceeds to push the rear seats down before crawling into the back of the car. Gently closing them behind her.

Jesus.

She had us all fooled.

Maybe I won’t punish her after all.

Slamming the trunk door where it latches firmly, I step up beside the rear passenger door and open it, her saxe-colored eyes looking up at me.

She’s so interesting, something I can’t quite wrap my head around.

One moment she’s the mousiest thing you could imagine.

Weak, whiney, and subordinate. The next, she’s trying to claw her way through me while we scramble in the dirt like quarreling felines.

Now this? What the hell do I do with this?

It’s simple intelligence but under duress, most people don’t think of things like drop seats. I sure didn’t.

Kneeling inside of the back seat, I reach for her, my hand abruptly snags her gagged face to wrench her to me.

There were a slew of words searing the tip of my tongue, ready to berate her for her ineptitude, but I just can’t seem to let them out.

The next best thing? Stare at her in what feels like surprise.

Not a feeling I am accustomed to. She tries to pull away, jerking her head side to side a few times while her hands and arms instinctively tug the rope still restraining her.

She can’t swing at me, or try to scratch my face to high heaven, while bound this way.

It also makes her appear more vulnerable and less of a heathen.

There’s a bit of fear in there, but not enough—something else wants to strike back.

“Why did you do that?”

Sadie shrugs and I scowl.

There she goes, back to being stupid.

“Sit up in the seat and stay quiet,” I clip.

Shoving her back, putting distance between us rather than showing dominance, I activate the child safety locks and slam the door shut.

She stirs up confusion inside of me and it’s doing way more harm than good—like she was created specifically to drive me mad.

At one point, I figured she would be easy to push around and manipulate, but now? I’m not so sure.

Unnerving silence consumes the drive as we trek into the forest for a few more hours.

Once we finally reach the cabin, an aircraft carrier’s worth of weight disappears from my slightly hunched shoulders.

It’s a little run down, but it’s not so bad.

When you spend your early adulthood finding one shelter after the next, hunting for a place that will not only keep you safe but shield you from the elements, you learn to sleep anywhere.

Trees are amazing to wake up under—but I’m sure Princess Pea will not be as appreciative of the accommodations.

I stop the car at the base of a rickety pair of stairs leading up to a hefty-appearing door.

All rustic and bare wood, as are most cabins.

Trying to maintain the aesthetic, so to speak.

Along with the main building, there is a detached garage which I assume used to hold plenty of recreational vehicles and have either been salvaged or left behind to rot once they were scrapped for parts.

It’s a good walk away, which lets me know there’s likely a drive between the cabin and the adjacent building.

The perfect spot to park the car and get Sadie inside.

While I’m not concerned about people stumbling upon us, I’m not a fan of the stairs. Surely there is another entry point, likely several; I unfortunately don’t have the patience to look for one. Why? Well, that goes without saying.

Unfolding from the car for the last time, I slam the door closed and pull Sadie’s open.

Dragging her out of the back seat, for the first time she doesn’t fight me.

She normally does when it’s usually the trunk or an establishment.

I guess she needs the fresh air, or wants to stretch her legs.

The trunk was rather confining and I didn’t really let her out over the past week or so.

I wouldn't be surprised if her bladder is about to explode.

Especially since she whined about water halfway through this part of the forest until I stopped, shoved a straw behind her gag, and ordered her to suck.

She tried—failed, but tried. Most of the water had dribbled down her chin and soaked into the fabric of her shirt.

It’s been a long day and the elements are starting to settle in on the both of us.

The sun’s already dipping down behind the mountain's crests and bathing us in a deep chilly shadow. It’s definitely cold up here, more so than Michigan is, and much as I enjoy watching Sadie writhe in pain, being frostbitten will only hinder my plans.

A howl of wind blows by; the both of us stand here in the open space of the back deck.

Looking out over what could very well be a yard, listening to the wind as my hand keeps a strong hold on her elbow.

Simultaneously, we turn back to the heavy door preventing us from entering—looming ominously.

Pulling out a key I buried in my pocket after leaving the gates of Darkwater, I slide it into the rusty porthole in the door and crank it to the side to unlock it.

Sadie watches raptly and it piques my interest all over again.

She’s very observant, scoping her surroundings out with each of her senses.

Can even see the slight flare of her nose when she pulls in an unsteady breath—as if she knows she will spend the rest of her life in these delipidated walls.

Pride blooms in my chest. Perhaps she’s more like me than I previously gave her credit for.

Predator recognizes predator.

Once I finish leading her inside, making sure she doesn’t fall and get some broken plank of wood shoved through her little body, I let her go.

Watching from the now-closed door as she looks around and explores.

The quiet lull between us starts to pull at my nerves, the impatience in me beginning to fray.

I’m about to snap at her when she… smiles.

What in the world is wrong with her? Why is she doing that?

The gesture reaches all the way up to her eyes, which is the only way I can tell.

They have the softest little smile lines right at the corners where her leftover eyeliner and mascara have filled the creases.

Easy to miss since she’s still young, but prominent enough with the black sticking to her skin.

Maybe I’m just getting old, but this is uncomfortable—I can’t stop looking at her.

She’s beyond fascinating and I want to take her apart to discover every tiny thing that lies behind her empty, cold eyes.

Limb from limb, pick out every blood vessel with a delicate touch, even see the smooth connective tissue keeping her body glued together.

“Well, sweet girl, is it up to your standards?” The words are huffed rather than asked.

Nothing. Absolutely silent except for the pre-wintery yowl outside. After all of the screaming and jeering in the car, she’s suddenly mute. In the past I had the uncanny ability to read people, or see things before they happened, but now everything is a wildcard with Sadie. And I do not like it.

My shoes make little to no noise, outside of creaking floorboards, during my walk to her.

Drawn to her orbit like that of a fly to a bug zapper—too close and I may fry like I should have in the chair.

Without gentleness, I hook a finger under her chin and tilt her head back.

Grey eyes clashing with those of the soul who now haunts me.

Quickly I release her and step away, moving around to her backside.

She grins until her pink lips give way to the straight white teeth behind them.

Her pupils are blown wide, so large the black holes have nearly gobbled all but a thin ring of bright blue around them.

Sadie doesn’t so much as blink; I can’t tell if she’s breathing, which sends me into an uncharacteristic panic.

My hands are moving on their own at this point, untying the knot in the gag at the back of her head.

Pulling the fabric from her face and mouth, seeing the reddened skin along her cheeks, her chapped lips, and the overall dryness of her mouth.

Then I work on her arms next; pulling the ends of the rope apart in quick jerks, not minding the way they rake and drag over her skin.

She stands so still, no flinching, no attempts to rub the chafed flesh.

Dropping her hands to the side, I curl one hand around her thin neck as the other tangles in her too-long blonde strands, angling her face up once more where I can look at those deep dark pools.

Vacant.

Lifeless.

Then I see it—her violent grin and the zeroing pupils as she launches at me.