Disclaimer: Janet Evanovich owns the rights to the following characters. This story is only intended as artistic exercise. I am in no way profiting financially from it.

Warning: This story is intended for adult readers only; contains graphic violent content, mature themes and adult language.

Cupcake Warning. This is a Babe story, and will have and eventual Babe HEA.

Breaking of Souls

Chapter 2: A Gilded Butterfly

Stephanie drifted towards a white light of sight and sound; awareness dawning on her foggy mind. Disoriented and confused, she fought against her heavily lidded eyes; the steady pulse of her heartbeat throbbing painfully against her temples. She squirmed uncomfortably, her arms resting unnaturally on either side of her head; pins and needles rippling down from her fingertips to the base of her shoulders. She tried to lower them to her sides, but her movements were met with resistance from her restrained wrists; the tug of her body ceasing at the squeaking sound of decaying metal springs. Her eyes opened slowly, blinking rapidly as they adjusted to the light.

She lay prostrate on a small corner daybed, flecks of white paint flaking from its rusting iron frame. Her hands were cuffed to the headboard above her, their numbness giving her the sensation of phantom limbs. The sheets around her were damp and soiled with her own sweat; her wild curls sticking to the moist skin of her face and neck. Her eyes circled the room, slowly taking stock of her surroundings; her breath hitching into fast, trembling pants.

The room appeared to be part of an unfinished basement or shed; the earthy smell of sawdust permeating the air. The unpainted walls surrounding her were made of crude plywood; pipes and electrical wires left exposed between the skeletal framing of the ceiling. A single window was heavily boarded with two by fours, effectively blocking any daylight or chance of escape; a small LED lantern was set upon the cement floor, illuminating the room with a soft golden glow. She looked at the aged wooden door, its structure seemingly unfamiliar somehow; with a pang of fear she realized that the lock was reversed, the dead bolt engaging from the outside.

She lifted her head from the mattress, her mind trying to make sense of the strange design patterning the walls. She swallowed the bile in her throat as she stared at her own image; thousands of times over; pictures taken unbeknownst to herself, at the bonds office, at Pino's, wrapped in Ranger's arms… asleep in her bed; the time frame of the pictures spanning for months. She turned her head to the wall beside her, focusing in on the words haphazardly scrawled between the photos, "A gilded butterfly flaps her wings, cloaked in the sins of mankind; I must peel the flesh from her mortal bones to resurrect the angel within."

An Icy terror spread through her veins, her body thrashing wildly against her confines; the skin of her wrists grating against the metal cuffs. Her breathing sped to a frantic pace, her body drowning in an excess of oxygen; darkness blanketed her vision as she spun dizzily into unconsciousness.

Stephanie's apartment was a whirlwind of chaos; Rangeman and Trenton P.D. officers swarming the small area; frantically collecting evidence and taking witness statements. Hector and Lester moved about the bedroom performing a crime lab kit as Bobby stood in the entryway gathering information from the tenants of neighboring apartments. Joe Morelli stood with a group of plain clothes cops, speaking in hushed whispers, pausing occasionally to throw an accusing glare in Ranger's direction.

Ranger stood with his arms folded across his chest, his back leaning against the wall; the murderous look in his eyes causing the men around him to give him a wide berth; silent rage emanating from every pore.

Tank stood a few feet away from Ranger, eyeing his boss warily. He knew that if Ranger snapped it would take either a bullet or an act of God to stop him. He had seen Ranger angry before, but never anywhere near this degree. He could tell by the look on his face that Ranger had lost all rational thought; his mind and body functioning solely on primal instincts. Tank's body tensed, preparing himself for the worst.

Officer Costanza approached Ranger hesitantly, like an unarmed man entering a tiger's cage. He met Ranger's eyes, the storm brewing behind them causing him to lower his gaze and swallow audibly.

"Mrs. Walker?" Ranger questioned, his tone flat and deadly; the noise in the room fading to a low hum.

Carl sighed, shaking his head dejectedly, "Of all the fucking luck, man. We have an eye witness that can't see shit. She was only able to tell us that he was Caucasian, large build, above six feet tall and had a deep, gravelly voice."

Ranger tipped his head back against the wall, his jaw clenching tightly, "Fuck," He growled, the pulse point of his neck jumping rapidly.

Carl took an unconscious step backwards, his mind registering the danger before him; Ranger's tightly coiled body attesting to his lethal capabilities.

Carl cleared his throat, taking another step in retreat, "Whenever you're ready, I'd like you to take another look around Steph's room; see if there is anything, other than the obvious, that is out of the ordinary."

Ranger nodded and stalked into the bedroom, scanning the area for anything out of place; his anger simmering just below the surface at the thought of someone violating Stephanie's personal space. His eyes fell upon the top drawer of Stephanie's dresser; wedged open haphazardly, several items of clothing spilling from the drawer. His breath caught in his throat, knowing all too well the contents of that drawer. He wrapped his t-shirt around his hand, careful not to disturb any fingerprints, and opened the drawer. Half of the usual contents were missing, the wood creaking in protest as Ranger's hand tightened around it.

"You find something?" Carl questioned from the doorway, eyeing Ranger cautiously.

Ranger nodded, gulping down a few steadying breaths; desperately trying to find his composure. "There are some personal items missing from this drawer." He rasped, his eyes snapping to Carl's face as he took a step forward. Ranger moved his body protectively in front of the dresser, his muscles tensing in anticipation.

Carl raised his hands in front of him, his eyes widening as he took a step back. Tank walked into the room, his gaze shifting between the two men. He sighed, approaching Ranger slowly. "Listen man," he murmured soothingly, placing a reassuring hand on Ranger's shoulder. "He's just doing his job and…"

"How the fuck would you know what's missing from Stephanie's lingerie drawer?" Morelli snarled as he followed Tank through the doorway. "You were here alone before we got here… you're probably the sick bastard who took them!" Joe fumed, hatred reddening his face.

Ranger lurched forward, grabbing a fist full of Morelli's shirt and slamming him roughly up against the wall. "Do you really want the answer to that question, Morelli?" Ranger growled, his lip curling in disgust, "You and I both know that I don't need to hide Stephanie's panties in my pockets. You on the other hand… might want to take a souvenir; because I can guarantee that you will NEVER touch her again."

"Boss," Lester cleared his throat, his hand absently rubbing the back of his neck. Ranger's body stilled, intensely studying the man before him. "We found a stack of cigarette butts outside on the fire escape and an unknown set of prints on nearly everything in the room. We also found this on the frame of her bed…" Lester held his flat palm out for Ranger's inspection, a tiny black recording device resting upon it.

Tremors rolled over Ranger's body as he battled to contain the rage within.

"Fuck," Carl whispered, scrubbing his hands over his face. "We need to call a criminal profiler. We're not dealing with a disgruntled FTA."

TBC…

Thoughts?