Page 151 of Wicked Nightmare

He hesitated, hand hovering over the doorknob as he looked back at Sarah. I rolled my eyes. "Christ, I'll do it myself if you're worried."

That did it. Kyle yanked the door open in one swift motion. We all leaned forward, expectant, only to be met with... nothing.

Then I saw it. A small dart, embedded in the wood, pinning a folded piece of paper.

"Well, fuck me sideways," I muttered, pushing past Kyle to get a better look.

I plucked the dart from the door, careful not to prick myself. The note came away easily, and as I unfolded it, a photo fluttered to the ground. Lakey snatched it up before I could even blink.

"We're watching you," I read aloud with a chuckle. "Well, ain't that cute."

I glanced at Lakey, expecting to see her usual deadpan smirk. Instead, her face had gone white as a sheet, those baby blues wide with... was that fear? Fuck me, I'd never seen Lakey truly and utterly afraid before. Not when men twice her size came at her with bats. Not when she was bleeding out on our kitchen floor that one time. Not once in all the years I'd known her. But right now, staring at that photo, she looked like a little girl.

"Cam," she whispered, her voice uncharacteristically small. She held out the photo, and I felt my world tilt on its axis.

It was the girl. Blonde hair. Lakey's eyes. The kid was tied to a chair, looking scared shitless but very much alive.

"Holy shit," I breathed. "Is that...?"

Before I could finish the thought, Sarah's voice cut through the tension. "What the hell is going on?" she demanded, her tone sharp enough to draw our attention away from the photo. "Kyle? Lakey? Someone better start talking, right fucking now. Cam?"

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the photo. Lakey's daughter. So whoever shot that dart knew we were here and knew what we were trying to do.

Sarah stomped up and grabbed the photo, sputtering as she asked who the hell that was.

Lakey's voice cut through my spinning thoughts, suddenly cool as a cucumber despite the bombshell. "Oh, Sarah, darling. Did you really think I was just some run-of-the-mill psycho?" She let out a laugh that made the hair on my arms stand up. "Surprise! I'm a mommy too. Cam is the daddy, so don't go worrying about some ex with a death wish."

Sarah and Rose's jaws practically hit the floor. Rose's eyes darted between Lakey and me. Sarah looked like she might hurl.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "She's mine? Our kid? Fuck me up the ass, Lakey. How did that happen? When were you planning on dropping that little tidbit?"

Lakey just shrugged, a hint of her usual smirk playing at her lips. "Later tonight when we were alone. But here we are."

I couldn't help but bark out a laugh. It was fucked, but I guess it tracked. We never had the normal conversations that other couples had. Certainly never had the opportunity to have private ones of this magnitude. "Still doesn't explain how. I would have remembered if we had a kid."

"Yeah, about that. We had our memories wiped. It all came out during hypnosis."

The room fell into a stunned silence. I could practically hear the gears grinding in everyone's heads. Sarah looked like she was trying to solve a Rubik's cube with her eyes closed. Rose was doing a great impression of a statue. Kyle was twitching his lip as he stood in the living room, just staring at us.

My mind was racing a mile a minute. My daughter. We had a fucking daughter together. She hadn't been raped. She hadn't been forced. That little girl was part of me. And now she was in the hands of those Chimera bastards. The demons stirred in my gut, a violent urge I usually welcomed. This time, though, it was mixed with something else. Something I didn't have a word for. Not concern, not exactly. Bigger than that. Heavier. Like someone had dropped a boulder into the center of my chest and it was spreading roots down into my bones. My hand went to my back pocket. Flick. Open. Flick. Closed. The butterfly knife worked overtime, clicking in the silence of the room.

Memory wipe. They'd reached inside our heads and stolen her from us. Stolen the pregnancy, the birth, whatever moments we might have had. Stolen the knowledge that she existed at all. I tried to think back, tried to find some crack in the wall where the truth might have leaked through, but there was nothing. Just that same empty blankness I'd carried my whole life, the gaps I'd always assumed were from trauma or drugs or just the general fuckery of growing up the way we did. Turns out the gaps were surgical. Someone had stood over Lakey with a scalpel in one hand and a syringe in the other and carved our daughter out of her body, then carved the memory of it out of her brain.

My hand squeezed the knife handle so hard the metal bit into my palm.

I looked at Lakey. She was watching me, those blue eyes steady, waiting for the reaction she knew was coming. She'd had time to sit with this. Hours, at least. She'd eaten dinner and cracked jokes and swung her legs on the counter knowing what she knew, holding it in her teeth until she could give it to me properly. And then Chimera took that from us too, with their fucking dart and their fucking photo.

I wanted to burn something. Someone. I wanted to find the doctor who'd taken our daughter and I wanted to take my time with him. Days, maybe. Weeks.

"So," I said, breaking the silence. My voice came out steadier than I had any right to feel. "Who's up for a little family rescue mission?"

Kyle slammed his fist against the wall, the sound echoing through our stunned silence. His movements were slow, deliberate. When he turned back to face us, his eyes were hard, his voice low and urgent.

"We need to move. Now. This place isn't safe anymore."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "No shit, Sherlock. Got any other brilliant observations?"

Before Kyle could bite back, Lakey's voice cut through the tension. Her tone was sharp, demanding, with that hint of playful malice.