Chapter Forty-Five Cam #2
"That's fucked, Lakey," Rose said quietly. "I thought we were family."
For a moment, Lakey's face fell, but then it was gone just as quick as it came.
"Yeah. We are. But this is my daughter, Rose.
There's nothing that will stand in my way.
I was going to say something, eventually.
But I didn't trust our hosts. I'm still not sure if I do, considering Chimera fucking found us here. "
The accusation hung in the air. Kyle's hands were shaking, though whether from anger or guilt, I couldn't tell. Sarah had gone quiet, which was worse than her yelling.
Rose looked like she'd been slapped. She kept glancing at Lakey, then at me, then back at Lakey, her mouth opening and closing. I almost felt bad for her. She'd thrown her lot in with us, fought beside us, bled for us, and now she was finding out we'd been holding back the biggest card in the deck.
"Rose," Lakey said, and her voice was softer than I expected. "I would have told you. I swear on everything that matters to me. I just found out today. The hypnosis brought it back. I was going to tell Cam tonight and then figure out next steps. I didn't plan for a fucking dart to hit our door."
Rose's lip trembled, then she squared her shoulders. "Fine. But no more secrets. I can't do this if you're hiding shit from me."
"Deal," Lakey said, and I could tell she meant it.
Kyle cleared his throat. "We need to focus. They are watching us, which means we're compromised. We need to move, and fast."
I leaned back in my chair, studying Kyle's tense posture. "Alright, Boy Scout. What's your grand plan?"
As Kyle started outlining a midnight move to another cabin that he had somewhere north, my mind drifted.
What had started out as a birthday present had morphed into a mountain.
We had a kid. I don't know how to explain the shift that happened when Lakey said she was mine.
Before... before now, I'd wanted to get the girl to soothe Lakes, but now that was MY child.
My girl. And finally, I understood why she couldn't let it go like I had for weeks, because the same feeling had finally settled over me.
A quiet rage, building, swirling and changing into a mass that was teetering on eruption.
I looked at the photo again. Kyle was still talking, pointing at some map he'd pulled up on his phone, but I couldn't hear him.
All I could see was that kid's face. Lakey's nose.
My chin. The defiance in those wide blue eyes, even with her hands tied behind her back.
She was scared, yeah, but she wasn't broken.
She was looking dead at whoever was behind the camera, and if looks could kill, they'd be burying that photographer in a shallow grave.
That's my daughter.
Something cracked open inside me that I didn't know existed.
I'd killed without hesitation. Tortured without remorse.
Watched the light leave a man's eyes while I ate a sandwich.
None of that touched me. But this kid, this tiny person who had my blood running through her veins, she reached into the locked box in my chest and ripped the lid clean off.
Flick. Open. Flick. Closed. Faster now.
I'd have moved mountains to get her daughter back, but now... now I'd scorch the earth because no one fucks with what's mine.
Sarah's voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and accusing. "How can you two be so calm? This is a secret child we're talking about! You know anything else, Lakey? Did the hypnosis tell you anything else that you could tell us that could be of any use here? I feel like I'm losing my goddamn mind."
I felt a flicker of annoyance. "Calm? Sweetheart, I'm about as calm as a cat in a room full of catnip, but losing our shit isn't gonna help anyone, least of all the kid."
Lakey squeezed my hand, her touch grounding me. "He's right," she said with a shrug. "Maybe we should panic MORE. Maybe that would help."
Kyle slammed his fist on the table, making everyone jump. "This isn't a game! We need a plan, now."
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Plans are overrated. What we need is chaos. And lucky for you, that's our specialty."
As Kyle and Sarah started to argue, I pulled Lakey into my chest, crushing her in a hug before pressing a kiss into her head.
We knew what we had to do. There was a shared hunger for what was to come, and that old bloodlust was rising.
But it tasted different now. Sharper. More focused.
Before, killing had been sport. Maintenance.
Something to keep the edge off. Now it had a purpose, and purpose made me dangerous in ways these people couldn't begin to understand.
The room erupted in a screaming fit of voices talking over each other, but I tuned them out, focusing on my girl. She was my everything, the only one who truly understood the fire burning in my veins. The only one who would ride or die with me.
"We'll get her back," I mouthed into her ear, my words meant for her alone.
Lakey's eyes hardened into icy blue flames as she tilted her head up and stared at me, and something primal ripped through my chest. "I know," she whispered back. "No one hurts our family."
Family. The word sat wrong in my mouth, too soft, too clean for people like us.
But it wasn't wrong. Not anymore. Somewhere out there, a kid with our DNA was tied to a chair, and the people who put her there thought they were safe.
They thought the distance protected them.
They thought the walls and the retinal scans and the men with guns would keep us out.
They had no idea what was coming.
I pressed my lips to Lakey's forehead, holding them there for a beat longer than I normally would.
She didn't pull away. Didn't crack a joke.
Just let me hold her while the others screamed at each other about logistics and safe houses and exit strategies.
None of that mattered. What mattered was the photo in my back pocket, pressing against my skin next to the butterfly knife.
What mattered was the look on that kid's face, all fight and fury, even in a situation that would have broken most adults.
She was ours, alright. No question about it.
We were bred for violence, molded through it. We danced in the flames of destruction and fucked on top of the graves of those who dared eye us the wrong way.
For that, I was grateful. They'd made us into something unstoppable. Something explosive. Something that would bleed darkness and turn the wounds into shadows that reach into their beating hearts to pull them from their chests.
They made us who we were, and there would be no stopping the storm. One of my trainers had once called me an animal, right after I'd lopped the head off some poor sod who hadn't been strong enough to take me out.
And we were going to show them just how deadly an animal could be when cornered.
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Continue with Book Two: Twisted Dream here