Page 80 of Wicked Nightmare

Cam's lips twitched in a humorless smile. "To destruction and madness."

I drank. The whiskey sat in my stomach next to the knowledge that I had a daughter and the knowledge that I'd been watching her for seven years and the knowledge that I couldn't tell the man sitting across from me because if I did, he'd try to fix it, and some things can't be fixed.

They can only be avenged.

Lillianna. Five pounds, two ounces. Born while I was unconscious. Raised by the woman who'd hurt me. Watched by me from a tree for seven years without knowing why.

I'm coming for you, baby girl. Mama's coming.

I just need to burn a few things down first.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Cam

I stared at Lakey, her fingers dancing over that damn photo of that little girl like it was made of glass. Her eyes, usually shining with murderous intent, had gone soft and dreamy. It made my skin crawl. Not in a good way either.

Was I upset that she was attached to someone other than me? What did it mean? Why do I care so much? She’s acting like that’s her damn kid. Wait… if that girl was indeed Lakey's daughter, who was the father? I was in prison when all this supposedly happened, so who the fuck raped my girl?

The thought sat in my chest like a hot coal. Not jealousy. Something worse than jealousy. The knowledge that someone might have touched her, violated her, put something inside her that grew into a person, and I'd been in a cell the entire time. Unable to stop it. Unable to kill whoever did it. Unable to hold her after.

And now she was sitting on our couch, stroking a photograph of a baby like it was the most precious thing she'd ever held, and I didn't know how to feel about any of it.

"You gonna stare at that all day, sweetheart?" I said, trying to keep the edge out of my voice.

Lakey didn't even look up. "Hmm?"

Fuck. I'd seen that look before, right before she'd go on one of her little "adventures." Usually ended with me having to clean up a mess of blood and body parts. Not that I minded the gore, but we had bigger fish to fry.

I tapped her on the forehead. "Earth to Lakey. We've got a problem, remember? Big, bad Chimera breathing down our necks?"

She blinked, those baby blues finally focusing on me. "What? Oh, right. Chimera."

"Yeah, Chimera. The folks who want us dead? Ring any bells?"

She gave me that sweet smile that usually preceded someone's violent demise. "Don't worry, Cam. I haven't forgotten."

I wasn't buying it. "Really? 'Cause it looks like you're more interested in playing house with a picture than getting what we want. And you never told me what you found in that box. Are you keeping secrets from me again, doll?"

Her expression shifted, that darkness rising to the surface. Good. I needed her mean, not moony. She put the photo down on top of my stack of information.

"No. I can multitask," she said, running a finger down my chest. "Or don't you trust me?"

I caught her wrist, my grip just shy of bruising. "Trust isn't the issue, darlin'. Focus is. And right now, you're about as focused as a kitten with a laser pointer."

Lakey's laugh was jagged enough to cut glass. "Oh, Cam. Always so dramatic. Fine, you have my undivided attention. What was so damn pressing I needed to drop everything to hear?"

I released her, fighting the urge to snatch that photo and rip it to shreds. One battle at a time, I reminded myself. First Chimera, then I'd deal with Lakey's obsession. It made me feel weird. Off-balance. Like the ground under my feet had shifted an inch to the left and everything I thought I knew about us was slightly wrong.

"The plan," I said, forcing a grin, "is to head to the orphanage about half an hour out from here and see what's there. Might have deets on who the fuck Chimera is."

Lakey's focus snapped back to me. "Now you're speaking my language."

I relaxed a fraction. This was the Lakey I knew, the one I could work with. As long as I kept her distracted, kept her focused on the hunt, maybe I could keep her from spiraling down whatever rabbit hole that photo represented. If that kid was hers, why did she even care? Sure, we'd wanted to have a kid, but OUR kid. Not one by some asshole who raped her.

Fuck. This was starting to eat away at me, and unleashing my inner demons was never a good thing.

I'd long learned how to keep them locked tight in a box and only let them out under controlled circumstances. It's how I kept us safe.

But as her gaze drifted back to the picture, a cold weight settled in my gut. She'd never stop because if there was anything ingrained in Lakes, it was that deep-seated drive to do whatever her beautiful, black heart had gotten set on.