Where’s Molly

Present
2022

My left foot taps against the footrest as I drive down the lengthy gravel road leading toward Molly’s house. Or, I guess Marie’s house, though I’ll never be able to call her that. Molly was the name I groaned over and over when I was inside her nine long years ago. And it’s the name that still comes back to haunt me during my loneliest hours.

“You could’ve warned me,” I growl through the phone. I’ve been calling the fucker since the first delivery to Molly’s house, and coincidentally, he’s been busy.

“That was my error,” Legion says, his voice just as deep and toneless as it always is. “I hadn’t realized you formed an attachment to her.”

Dickhead. That was definitely a dig.

“Then why didn’t you tell her I was coming? She seemed surprised.”

“I should have,” he concedes. “I let her know a good friend of mine was coming in lieu of Eli until he recovers, and that you were trustworthy. She trusts me so she didn’t seem concerned with your name.”

I sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me she came back?”

I’m pissed that he didn’t. Not because she reversed everything I did to keep her hidden and safe. No, it’s because she’s been back, within reach, and I never fucking knew. She doesn’t owe me shit. Except there’s a small part of my ego that hoped she’d want to see me again. The fact that she didn’t, only makes me want to prove just how fucking wrong she is for feeling that way. And the problem is I don’t know if she’ll let me have her, but I do know it won’t stop me.

None of this has anything to do with Legion. Not really. He may employ her, but who she was before isn’t of much concern to him. The only thing he does make his business is who his employees are now.

“I didn’t know I was required to,” he counters dryly.

I growl beneath my breath. “Why did she?”

He sighs. “If I recall, she has a sister who was given up for adoption before she left. I assume her reasons for returning to Montana may have something to do with that,” Legion says.

I exhale slowly. I only had one night with her. And admittedly, we didn’t do too much talking. Although I did know from the news reports after she went missing that she had a much younger sister. Layla, I think her name was.

So, if Molly’s willing to return to the one place that caused her so much distress, then it can only be for someone as important as Layla.

“Do you know where her sister is now?”

“Yes,” he answers shortly.

I wait, but he doesn’t elaborate.

“Legion,” I growl, my patience waning.

“Do I need to be concerned about what you will do with said knowledge?”

“No.”

He’s silent for a beat, but I know I’ve won when I hear his exasperated exhale.

“She’s fifteen years old now, and lives with a nice, wealthy family. And that is not to be messed with, Cage.”

I’d happily fucking kidnap her if that’s what Molly asked, but I keep that to myself. Obviously, Legion would find that concerning.

“We’re clear,” I clip. “Thanks, man. I’ll report when the delivery is complete.”

I toss my phone to the passenger seat, releasing another heavy exhale. There’s an undeniable burning desire to know everything about Molly. Why was Layla given up for adoption? And did Molly return, because she wants her sister back? Or to be around for when she turns eighteen?

The obsession is familiar.

It’s similar to what I felt when she was first kidnapped. The intrigue of her disappearance and what happened to her—I was incredibly transfixed by her case.

The girl who not only vanished out of thin air but seemed to lose her mind beforehand.

The footage showed her walking into the gas station, and five minutes later, she was running from something that the security cameras couldn’t see. Throwing things on the floor, clearly in distress, while absolutely destroying the place. And then seeming to calm, as if someone had forced her to.

What was more disturbing was that the cameras didn’t see her leave the gas station. Same with the ones outside the back exit—that door never opened, and she was never seen walking out.

At 9:02 PM, she waved goodbye to the man behind the counter, walked out of shot toward the back door, and that was the last the world saw of Molly.

It was riveting, and I was fascinated.

But this obsession that I feel now is still not the same. No—it’s exactly what I felt when I met her. Had her.

The girl with haunted eyes and a perpetual frown, who carried a sadness so deep that it permanently altered the shape of her lips.

I spent the night tracing my tongue along her Cupid’s bow until I remolded her mouth to fit against mine. Because as long as I was inside her, her sadness would be powerless to my obsession. And there would be no part of her that wasn’t made precisely for me.

I pull up to her farm, seeing the glow emanating from the same lone window in her house. It’s been a week since I last saw her, and I’ve been talking myself down from showing up at her house uninvited again.

I wonder if that light is shining from her bedroom. Now, I can’t look away without first imagining the silhouette of her naked body shadowed behind the glass. The curve of her pert breasts, just big enough to fill my hands, and those dusty pink nipples I could barely pull my mouth away from that night. The swell of her plump ass, before curving into those creamy thighs.

Fuck.

My cock is straining painfully against my zipper, and I’m tempted to unzip and stroke myself to the fantasy. It’s not nearly as graphic as it could be, but part of me doesn’t want to guess what her matured body looks like now. Mainly because I’ve already convinced myself I’ll find out soon enough, and I want to take her in without any preconceived notions.

It may be the only good thing about not seeing her for almost a decade. I’ll get to experience her for the first time all over again.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my pack of nicotine gum and pop one in my mouth, needing the buzz to relax my nerves. Then, I get out of the car just as she emerges from the depths of the barn.

She gazes at me cautiously, her stare sliding down my form, then back up again.

“How many?”

“Just one tonight.”

Without a word, she twists on her heel and disappears inside the barn.

My heart is pounding, and I’m not even sure why anymore. Anticipation has gathered between the crevices of my bones, as if I’m gearing up to commit the worst of my crimes.

Maybe I am. Yet, I can’t find it in me to give a fuck.

Just like last time, I drag the corpse out of my trunk and carry the dead woman into Molly’s barn. She’s dressing in her protective suit while I drop the body on the metal table.

The silence is heavy and filled with electrical currents. If I licked my thumb and held it up, I’d wield lightning in a matter of seconds. The ways I’d use that to my advantage…

The loud buzz of the hair clippers rips my thoughts straight out of the gutter and into the hands of the woman cutting off another person’s hair, preparing to dismember her. She already undressed the woman, and I hadn’t even realized it.

I watch her, riveted, and remembering the twenty-five-year-old girl who walked into my TV store, asking for help with her shoulders curled inward and her eyes watching over her shoulder with every step. To this moment, a woman who is so calm and standing like she’s sure of herself. It’s such a contrast to the version of her I once knew that I’m nearly frothing at the mouth to get to know who she is now.

She finishes shaving the woman’s head, then extracts her teeth quickly and meticulously—so smoothly that it only shows her experience.

And when she begins to saw through the corpse’s head, I can’t help but feel my fascination with her deepening.

Unsurprisingly, I find her skillset in dismembering a person attractive.

“What did she do?” she asks after finishing removing the head.

“She sold her kid to her boyfriend. He would pay for his drug habit with her daughter’s body.”

She pauses, the vibrating blade an inch away from the woman’s leg. She clutches the tool until her rubber gloves squeak from the force of her grip, and when she continues to stay frozen, my brows plunge, concern trickling in.

“Molly.”

She jumps, just the slightest, then hurries to continue removing the woman’s leg at the hip.

“Where’s the boyfriend?” she questions, her tone stiff.

“With Legion. I’m sure I’ll be delivering his body soon.”

She nods, moving to the second leg.

“And the girl?”

“Probably at a Z location.”

Her head turns just enough to give me a hint of her high cheekbones and plump lips. Redness mottles her pale flesh, darkening the light dusting of freckles on her cheeks.

“Find out for me?” she asks quietly.

Something about the young girl’s situation has struck a nerve with Molly, which only further ignites the burning curiosity to know more about her past.

“I can do that,” I promise, satisfying her enough to where she resumes her bloody task.

The pigs behind me are creating a ruckus, the scent of blood getting them excited.

“Is there a reason why you want me to look into her?” I question, desperate for even a crumb.

She doesn’t respond. Not until she’s finished completely removing the limbs from the woman’s torso.

“Doesn’t matter. I’d just like to know she’s safe.”

She’s evading my question—keeping me in the dark—which only stirs the demon lurking inside my soul. A beast who doesn’t like to be kept in a darkness it can’t manipulate.

I already feel the blackness unleashing into my system, and my fingers crack with how hard I clench them.

The thought of anyone hurting her, especially if it was in the same way that little girl was hurt, will easily turn me into a bloodthirsty monster. The worst part is that I know she was hurt. I know whoever kidnapped her didn’t bring her to a place that respected her body.

She may have already disposed of them. But if not, I’d love nothing more than to kill them myself.

“Molly,” I warn, my tone deepening with anger.

She freezes, much like she did when I first shared the woman’s crimes against her kid.

“Did the same thing happen to you?” I ask boldly.

My obsession won’t let her get out of not telling me every little fucking detail about her life. About her past and all the reasons she ran to Alaska, and the reasons she decided to come back and make a living out of feeding pedophiles to her pigs.

I’ve held off long enough and refuse to hold back the burning questions any longer.

“It doesn’t matter, Cage,” she bites out, tearing the protective glasses off her face and tossing them on the table. The white teeth marks beneath her eye are brightened from the redness of her skin.

A testament to the horrors she survived.

She won’t look at me as she picks up the severed head and stomps over to the pen with one monstrous pig inside and nearly launches it in.

The pig wastes no time cracking open the skull. I’m standing right beside its pen, so I shift a few feet away to avoid the spray of blood while Molly angrily marches back toward the table. I watch her silently as she repeats the process with the torso and both legs.

I’ve lost my patience by the time she snatches one of the arms from the nearly empty table, then stomps back toward me, preparing to throw it in one of the pens. I grab onto her bicep before she does. Whether it’s instinct or because she likes to beat people with spare limbs when she’s pissed, her arm whips out, and the bloody arm comes careening toward my head.

I duck out of the way, though I’m not spared from blood spattering across my face. I grab onto her wrist, meeting her searing glare.

“Did I say something to piss you off, my little ghost?” I ask wickedly.

She snarls and tugs on her arm, failing to tear it out of my grip.

She looks like she wants to run again, peering at me like an animal backed into a corner. Her flight mode is activated, and I have no fucking qualms with hunting her down.

“You have no right!” she shouts, panting heavily as she seethes at me. “You don’t get to come back into my life and start demanding things from me. The only thing you get to do is bring me pig food, and then you leave.”

The fire in her green eyes is captivating. Fuck, I’m so enthralled.

“You’re breathtaking,” I murmur.

She blinks at me, taken aback and speechless for several moments.

“W-what? Why would you say that?”

Because staring into her eyes is the only thing I needed, to convince myself she’s everything I’ll ever want for as long as oxygen invades my lungs. I knew it deep in my bones the day I met her. Even back then, my soul immediately recognized hers as its other half.

“Because I’d tell you anything,” I answer. “There’s not a single thing I’d be able to keep from you. Especially when you look so goddamn beautiful.”

Her hand slackens, shock colored on every inch of her ethereal face.

I take advantage and slide the severed arm out of her hold. Then, I toss it across the barn and into one of the pigpens.

She glances to the side, seemingly trying to gather herself.

“You’re going to find every drop of blood that went past the plastic and clean it up. This is an active crime scene that can never look like one when they’re done eating.”

I grin, and her stare latches onto my mouth, her own lips parting subconsciously.

“That must mean I’m not allowed to leave yet,” I drawl lazily.

She wrinkles her nose in distaste at my comment, then attempts to extract her wrist from my grip again. I don’t release her—won’t release her. Holding her is too addictive, and I haven’t had nearly enough.

“Let me go, Cage,” she demands breathlessly, tugging her arm more insistently.

“I’ve already done that once,” I say, tugging her into my chest roughly. Her gasp feathers across my chest, setting the muscle inside aflame. I lower my mouth to her ear, evoking a shiver that overtakes the entirety of her body. “I’m not doing it again.”

“Cage,” she squeaks out, even as my lips are already tracing the soft outer shell of her ear, where a dainty gold ring is pierced. Her skin is spotless from blood here, and I intend to take advantage of that. I flick my tongue against the metal, and another helpless sound emits from her throat.

And that’s what makes her so goddamn exciting. She’s not helpless, but I sure as fuck like it when she plays the part.

“We can’t do this,” she insists, her words airy and lacking conviction.

“Not this, either?” I query before catching the piercing between my teeth and sucking it gently.

Her other hand flies to my chest, her bloody glove covering my shirt in crimson.

I retreat just far enough to whisper, “Now we’re going to need to burn that.”

She swallows thickly, the sound audible yet quiet.

It seems to take her a second to gather herself, and then she’s croaking, “Then take it off.”

I assess her closely to ensure she’s not fucking with me, but she keeps her gaze locked onto the bloody handprint over my heart. She could be lying, planning to bolt the second I release her.

Deciding that I wouldn’t mind the chase, I unlock my fingers from her wrist, one digit at a time.

Her chest heaves, and my cock strains against my zipper, imagining how hard her nipples must be beneath her suit. I intend to find out.

Watching her closely, I slowly remove my leather jacket, having enough foresight to throw it away from the blood. Then, I grab the back of my collar and pull the soft fabric over my head.

Immediately, her burning stare falls to my bare chest, then onto my stomach, tracing every muscle I’ve worked my ass off for. The industry I work in doesn’t allow for weak muscles and little strength. Criminals are my clients, and, at any moment, I may have to defend myself. There have been plenty of times when I have had to.

Her tongue darts out, wetting her bottom lip as she dissects every inch of my exposed flesh.

“I don’t…” She licks her lips again, this time nervously. “I don’t remember you having that many muscles before.”

I quirk a brow. “Baby, I was twenty-seven the last time you saw me shirtless. A lot has changed since then.”

“Right,” she mumbles, once more distracted by the view.

I close the space between us, biting my lip to contain my devilish smile as her breath stutters from her throat.

“I want you to show me what has changed with you, but I also want to see what’s the same.” Her next swallow is audible. “Does that spot between your tits still get red when you come?”

I crowd into her, instigating by bumping my chest against hers and inhaling her sweet vanilla and cinnamon scent. It mingles with the unmistakable smell of copper, which only serves to make her more enticing.

Molly is painted in blood, and I want her to cover me in it, too.

She stumbles, a small whimper reaching my ears. It isn’t born of fear or weakness but of a woman overcome with her emotions.

Before she can overthink all the reasons this is a bad idea, I grab the zipper at the hollow of her neck and pull down, the teeth breaking apart the only backdrop to her uneven breathing.

The material parts to reveal heaving breasts covered by a thin, white tank top. She shrugs out of it, the oversized gloves effortlessly falling off with the yellow suit. Then, it falls down her legs completely, revealing tiny black shorts and toned, long legs.

She’s tall, at least five-ten, and has the most delicious curves. She’s fucking perfect for me. Every little facet of her was designed just for me.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she steps out of the suit, along with her black rubber boots, and kicks them to the side.

Barefoot and defenseless, yet she stands like a trained killer, and I know her most valuable weapons are her hands.

She’s fucking beautiful.

A loud bang from the pens disturbs the tense silence, causing Molly to startle. The pigs are demanding to be fed again.

“We’re all hungry, baby. Who are you going to feed first?” I ask wickedly before gliding my tongue across my bottom lip.

I’m fucking starving.

She doesn’t remove her challenging gaze as she deliberately steps away and toward the metal table. I can sense how predatory my own stare is, but the red flush crawling up to her cheeks indicates she doesn’t mind being my prey.

She grabs the last remaining body part from the table—another arm. Then, she walks it over to one of the pens where two pigs eagerly await the last of their meal. The others are still working their way through the torso and legs.

Maintaining eye contact, she holds out the arm and drops it in, blood spraying across the hay as they tear it apart.

I stride toward her, my own blood heating as she worries her bottom lip and her hands begin to fidget.

“You know, your pets would tear you apart in seconds with all that nervous energy,” I comment, amusement coloring my tone.

She narrows her eyes. “Then it’s so fortunate for me that I know how to defend myself.”

I grin, the act as devilish as my intentions.

I round her, sliding my chest against her back as I lean down to whisper in her ear. “You must be frightening.”

“I am,” she insists, though her voice is breathless, and another tremor is working its way down her spine.

I hum, reaching up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

Again, she shivers.

“Then show me, my little ghost.”