Page 73 of Savage Keepsakes

Making sure the barrels are secure with their lids, I strip off my clothes and feel the cool air against my skin.

Once I’m in the house, I head upstairs for a shower, cleaning the blood and skull bits out of my hair before heading to the bedroom for grey sweatpants and a black tee.

Rushing down the hall, I enter the teal kitchen and whip up eggs to make French toast.

“Billy, what’re you doing up?” Lucy asks as she comes into the house.

When she appears at the kitchen entrance in her dark blue work pants, my gaze falls to her curves, causing my dick to throb and strain against the fabric of my sweats. How does she make everything look so damn sexy?

She looks exhausted, and as she yawns, I know shemust feel like I do.

“Was up late with a few projects. Thought I’d stay awake to make you breakfast before we go to bed,” I tell her.

“I’ll shower and be down?”

I nod, leaning against the counter to peer up at her glorious ass until she’s out of view. Flipping the French toast, I grab two plates and bring them to the table.

The house shudders as she turns off the water, and I drum my fingers against the wooden top, waiting for her to join me.

As I wait, I think about last night. What he did was completely unexpected, and I didn’t enjoy watching it.

Lucy’s footsteps break my concentration as she descends the stairs. “This is amazing. I don’t think anyone’s ever made me breakfast.”

A sudden, intense pain in my chest sends alarm bells ringing, resembling a heart attack. However, when I take steady breaths, I come to understand that my soul is only hurting for the cards life has handed her.

“Well, I’ll cook you every breakfast.”

“Artie says his favourite is eggs Benedict. He has it on Father’s Day.” She smiles before cutting into the French toast and taking a bite.

“I could do that. I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“You’re silly, but I love you.” She grins before dipping her head to eat.

“I love you more. How was your night?” I finish my last piece and fold my hands under my chin to listen.

“Eventful. Sometimes it’s quiet and the twelve hours drag, but tonight we had some calls. Drunken bar fight. Someone’s grandma got turned around.” Placing the fork beside her plate, she doesn’t look at me.

“What’s going on, Lou?”

“We pulled a kid out of a filthy house last night. It felt like being back home. Why the fuck do people do that? The poor child was terrified. He was covered in bruises and scars.” Her voice breaks, and she wraps her arms around herself.

Sometimes I think I’m killing the wrong individuals. I should change in the mask for a cape and spree my way through the fucked-up parents who neglect to take the opportunity to parent as an honour instead of an obligation that they have to do.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why people have kids if they won’t care for them properly. Trauma rolls through generations until someone’s strong enough to end it.”

Lucy says nothing as she picks up our plates and brings them to the sink. As she turns around, I stand and embrace her.

With her long nails in my hair, the darkness clears, and my heart returns to the right speed.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever want to have children, and so it’ll end with me.”

It pains me, but what the fuck would I do with a couple of kids running around? A sadistic sicko like me, with the trauma I carry around like a cloak of darkness?

“Whatever makes the most sense for you. Know you didn’t deserve anything that happened. You deserved to be a child, to explore and grow in an environment that was safe.” I brush her hair behind her ear, cupping her jaw as I relish the warmth of her hand.

“Did you have that?” Her mossy green eyes stare into mine and I swear she can see the scars that line my soul.

“Nah, some of us aren’t lucky. Doesn’t mean we didn’t deserve it though,” I whisper and press a kiss on her forehead.

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