Where’s Molly
: Chapter 4

Present
2022

I’m going to kill Legion.

He never told me Cage was delivering the bodies. I didn’t even think to ask who was coming when I was informed Eli was shot and would have a temporary replacement. I trust Legion implicitly, so I wasn’t concerned with their identity. Especially because I know how to protect myself regardless of who it is.

I’ve no idea if Legion even knows anything about the night I spent with Cage—and maybe he doesn’t. But, fuck, he could’ve warned me.

“When did you come back?” Cage questions, his voice tight.

“Four years ago,” I answer automatically, though I’m not sure why. It’s none of his business—I’m none of his business.

“Why?” he demands.

“Doesn‘t matter why. You shouldn’t be here,” I mumble, nervous sweat dotting my hairline and coating my trembling palms. I shouldn’t be here. We both know that, even if he doesn’t know why.

Running from Francesca and Rocco was one of the many reasons I needed to escape Montana. Yet, I knew coming back here was the only thing that would save me from myself.

I tried to survive in Alaska, but only found myself dying.

At least here, I’d be living, even if I still feel dead inside.

Cage takes a step toward me, a savage expression mapped across his devastatingly beautiful face.

I forgot how tall he was. Towering over six-four, at least.

His hair hasn’t changed since I last saw him. Still buzzed short on the sides, the dark brown strands only slightly longer on top. Just long enough to run my hands through. I recall my tongue tracing his sharp jawline made out of steel and thick brows creased in bliss above his forest green eyes. And I’ll never forget those wide, full lips that kissed every inch of my skin, or the light stubble that sent chills down my spine every time I felt it brush against me. All features that my stare has worshiped for hours.

Letting him fuck me was one of many mistakes, but I wanted to feel what everyone else was feeling when they had sex—what normal people felt. I wanted sex to feel good.

I just never expected it to feel that good. And for unknown reasons, that’s still more terrifying than being gang-raped by Rocco and his men.

He takes another step toward me. For the second time, I stumble back into the table where two corpses continue to rot.

“D-don’t,” I choke out, holding up my hand to stop him. As if it would.

He pauses, the gears in his head turning. I’ve no idea what he’s thinking, but in the short time I knew him, he wasn’t very susceptible to letting people inside his head.

“Feed the pigs, Molly,” he finally grits out, taking several steps back. I feel the constriction around my chest release with every inch that grows between us.

It’s been nine years since I last saw him, though I recall all too well how hard he made it to breathe.

I clear my throat as if that’s going to remove the anxiety clogging it. Then, I stiffly turn to the first corpse on the table.

A man who is well into his fifties, with a deeply receded hairline and gray hair. After some maneuvering, I manage to remove the articles of clothing from his body and toss them to the side. Then, I grab the hair clippers again and begin shaving his head.

All the while, Cage watches me silently.

Eli doesn’t typically stick around after the deliveries. Not since the first time he watched my pigs eat. I’m tempted to tell Cage to leave, but whatever old attachment I had with him isn’t entirely gone. Like removing a Band-Aid and being left with the residue. The wounds are healed, yet what was supposed to help close them remains.

“What did this guy do?” I ask, my voice strained.

“He was just acquitted of raping his fifteen-year-old grandson. Not enough evidence, the judge said. Despite the mountain of pictures of bruises around the kid’s neck that matched the guy’s handprints and the semen sample on the boy’s shorts.”

“Sounds like the judge should’ve been killed, too,” I mutter snidely, then grab my pliers and begin forcefully yanking out his teeth. When I’m finished, I drop them in the grinder on my table. With the press of a button, it grinds them down to powder, making them easy to dispose of later.

Next, I turn on the Sawzall and begin cutting into flesh. Crimson splatters onto my gloved hands, face, and chest. Behind me, I hear my pigs snorting loudly beneath the ear-piercing sound of the saw cutting through bone.

Now that they have a steady diet of human remains, they tend to get rowdy once they catch a whiff of blood. It used to freak me out, but then I decided that the predators they were eating were far worse than the beasts consuming them.

After I’m done, his arms, legs, and head are removed from his torso. I move the body parts out of the way, then sweep my arm across the table, wiping the excess blood onto the plastic-covered floor for easy cleanup later.

“And this one?” I ask tersely, breaking the tense silence while I remove the clothing from the second man. He appears well into his seventies, covered in liver spots.

“That’s the judge.”

I purse my lips, feeling, rather than seeing, his amusement.

“Did you kill them?” I question, realizing that in the nine years I’ve been gone, a lot could have changed with Cage.

“No. Legion handles that.”

Legion is an underground organization run by an elusive no-face man named after his company, who employs hitmen to take out whoever they deem necessary. They specifically target those who frequent the dark web, and much like their sister organization, Z, they go after pedophiles.

While Z focuses on the trafficking rings and larger operations, Legion was formed to focus on the smaller fish—the psychopaths who lurk in plain sight, fitting into society as the blue-collar working class or with their corporate desk jobs, all the while wreaking havoc on innocent souls when they clock out.

Though, Legion sees them for who they really are. Wolves in sheep’s clothing. Beasts in human skin.

Cage is quiet as I trim the judge’s wispy, thin hair, then remove his dentures and the few remaining teeth and start up the Sawzall again, dismembering him quickly. Except the second I finish silencing the machine, his deep, oceanic voice is back.

“When did you start working for Legion?”

I take a steady breath, grabbing two severed arms and walking them over to the first pen with Dill and Chili inside. I toss an annoyed glance toward Cage on the way, but his expectant expression doesn’t budge.

“Not long after I came back. I bought this farm on a whim. It was cheap, secluded, and came with the pigs. I was going to get rid of them, but then I realized they could be useful. I could be useful.”

The arms go flying into the pen, and Dill and Chili don’t hesitate to tear into them. Pivoting, I head back toward the table and grab two legs. I heave them up, and when Cage steps toward me as if to help me, I shoot him a warning glare.

I’ve never needed a man to do the heavy lifting for me before, and I sure as fuck don’t now. I’m more than capable.

Garlic and Paprika are fed next, and Cage doesn’t remove his burning stare from me for a single second.

It sets me aflame, like a fever ravaging my insides. I’m short of breath, my palms are sweaty, and my knees are weak. I’d love to pretend that it’s because he makes me sick, but my tightened nipples and the faint thrum between my thighs speak otherwise. He holds my body beneath his thumb, ready to betray me when my head demands control.

“I still had Legion’s contact info and reached out. Told him I wanted to help snuff every piece-of-shit pedophile from this planet, and how I planned to do it. He was happy to oblige.” I end my explanation with a shrug, before grabbing the two severed heads.

Oregano always gets the heads. She’s the momma of the bunch—and the biggest.

He’s quiet again, seeming to contemplate that as he watches Oregano bite into the judge’s head, cracking it open like a watermelon.

“When did you start working for him?” I ask quietly.

“I don’t. I still own my store, Black Portal. However, Legion’s a friend, so when he needs help, I give him a hand.”

I nod, turning my gaze back to my pigs. They were already named when I inherited them, and when I first heard what they were, I thought they were stupid. Who names pigs after seasoning?

Now, I replace them quite fitting, considering their diets. A little bit of spice with their human meat.

“Moll—”

“You’re supposed to call me Marie,” I say. “That’s what everyone else knows me by.”

I flick a glance at him, noting his raised brow.

“Everyone else?”

I shrug. “The grocery store clerk that sells me wine, mainly.”

“No friends? Boyfriend?”

I sigh and grab the other set of arms and legs, tossing them to Oregano. The other four can split the two torsos.

“I don’t allow attachments when I make money the way I do. Lying to loved ones and living a double life doesn’t appeal to me.”

“So, you have no one,” he states.

After tossing the torsos in the last two pens, I give him a dead stare, letting him see through the windows of my soul, only to replace nothing inside.

“No one,” I echo, then turn and head to the cleaning station tucked into the far corner of the barn, near the metal table.

“Legion already paid for tonight. Thanks for dropping them off,” I toss over my shoulder, signaling the end of his visit. The pigs are finishing up, and I prefer to clean alone.

Or maybe I just prefer to be alone.

It’s a quiet existence, but it’s been so long since I’ve known anything else.

“I’ll see you around, Molly,” Cage murmurs, the statement sounding more like a vow than a goodbye.

My throat tightens, and it doesn’t ease until I hear his car door slam shut, the engine start, and the tires crunching over the gravel as he retreats.

My phone rings, showing an unknown number, and like every time before, I answer it and hold it to my ear wordlessly.

“Is it done?”

“Yep.”

“Good.”

The line goes dead, and once again, I’m left with nothing more than blunt teeth chewing through bone.

“Thanks, Helga,” I sigh.