Chase’s breath ghosted over Daisy’s ear. "Just a little moment, Daisy-bell." His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. The bass vibrated through the floorboards, a relentless heartbeat. Laughing, Daisy pushed gently against him, her smile a practiced flash of light in the dim room. She had a role to play. A mission.
"Later, Chase," she murmured, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the pounding music. "I need a drink first. Serious thirst."
He released her, a playful pout on his lips. "Don't be long." His eyes lingered, a familiar possessiveness. Daisy nodded, already moving, slipping through the throng of bodies. Sweat slicked the air. The scent of cheap beer and something sweet and illicit hung heavy.
Chloe and Blair were already lost in the crowd, probably dancing or making out. Jason stood by the makeshift bar, a solo cup in hand, his gaze distant. He didn't seem to notice her. Good.
Daisy skirted past a group taking shots, their cheers erupting as liquid fire went down. Her heart thumped, not from the excitement of the party, but from the raw anxiety coiling in her gut. She clutched the burner phone in her pocket, its cool plastic a small comfort. Kai’s quick, affirmative text still burned in her mind. Get the evidence.
Finding the back door was easy. It led to a small, overgrown yard, mercifully quieter. The cool night air hit her face, a welcome shock. She pulled out the burner, a quick text to Elaine. *Here. Back yard.*
Moments later, a shadow detached itself from the deeper darkness near the fence. Elaine. Her face was grim, etched with a tension Daisy had never seen before. No polite greetings. No small talk.
"Did you find anything?" Daisy asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Elaine shook her head, a slow, heavy movement. "Nothing at the house directly. Not yet. But I did find something else. Something about the attack. About your mother."
A cold dread began to seep into Daisy’s bones. This wasn't about missing documents anymore. This was about the core wound.
"What is it?" Daisy demanded, a tremor in her voice.
Elaine looked around, as if worried about unseen ears. "It wasn't a random break-in, Daisy. Not for money. Not for anything of value in the house." Her eyes locked onto Daisy's, wide and dark. "Your mother... she wasn't collateral damage."
Daisy felt the blood drain from her face. Her throat tightened. "What are you talking about?"
"The target wasn't your mother, Daisy." Elaine’s voice was low, almost a growl of pain. "The target... was you." \n
The words hung in the air, heavier than the humid night. Daisy’s world tilted. Her mother. Dead. Because of her. An infant. A target. It was incomprehensible.
"No," Daisy whispered, a desperate plea. "That's impossible. Why? I was a baby."
Elaine stepped closer, her hand reaching out, then hesitating. "It came from an old police contact. Someone high up, who was on the original case, pushed out later. Said they found... discrepancies. That the official report was a cover-up."
Discrepancies. Cover-up. Daisy’s mind raced, trying to grasp the enormity of it. This wasn't just about finding out who killed her mother. This was about her own existence being a dark, dangerous secret.
"They wanted to hurt your mother," Elaine continued, her voice heavy with grief, "and the way to do it was to take you. Or worse."
Terror clawed at Daisy’s throat. A suffocating wave of it. Her very breath hitched. Her mother had died protecting her. Not just caught in the wrong place, wrong time. But actively shielding her infant from a malicious, deliberate threat.
"Who?" Daisy choked out, the word raw. "Who would want to hurt a baby? Why?"
Elaine shook her head. "That's the part they buried. The contact said the investigation hit a wall, a powerful one. Someone pulled strings, shut it down. But the internal whispers... they were always about you."
Daisy’s knees felt weak. She stumbled back, hitting the rough brick wall of the house. The party sounds, once distant, now seemed to mock her, a false sense of normalcy. Her life. Every reckless decision. Every fleeting romance. Every attempt to outrun the ghost of her mother. It was all built on a lie.
She wasn't just abandoned by death. She was marked. A target. Even as a helpless infant. The weight of it pressed down, crushing her. Her mother's sacrifice wasn't a tragic accident. It was a brutal defense.
Suddenly, her self-destructive behavior wasn't just rebellion. It was a prophecy. A twisted, subconscious dance with the danger that had always been aimed at her. Was this why she couldn't feel safe? Why she craved chaos? Because on some primal level, she knew she was forever hunted?
The realization brought a fresh wave of panic. Her existence was a threat. To whom? And if they came for her once, who was to say they wouldn't come again? The world, already a volatile place, suddenly felt like a snare, every shadow a potential hiding place for an unseen enemy.
"This changes everything," Daisy whispered, her voice barely audible. Her understanding of her entire life, her father's overprotectiveness, the unspoken sorrow that permeated their home – it all clicked into a terrifying new picture. He wasn't just mourning. He was guarding.
"I know," Elaine said, her eyes filled with sorrow and something else, a fierce determination. "And we have to find out who. We have to finish what they started, Daisy."
Her words were a stark challenge. A call to action in the face of overwhelming fear. But Daisy felt paralyzed. The enormity of it, the personal nature of the malice, was too much. She was not just a grieving daughter; she was the reason her mother died. The intended victim. The curse.
"This is bigger than drugs, Daisy," Elaine pressed, her voice urgent. "Bigger than any of Kai's dirty dealings. This is about your life. About your birthright. About why they wanted you gone."
Birthright? The word echoed in Daisy's ears. What birthright could an infant possibly have that would warrant such a brutal, calculated attack? Was her family involved? Her father? The thought was sickening, unthinkable. Yet, who else would have such a powerful enemy, capable of covering up a murder?
Her chest tightened, a vice grip squeezing her lungs. She suddenly felt exposed, utterly vulnerable, even here in the relative darkness of the yard. Every rustle of leaves, every distant car horn, seemed to amplify the sense of unseen eyes. She was prey.
The weight of responsibility settled on her shoulders, heavy and suffocating. Her existence was a living, breathing danger. To herself, and by extension, to anyone she cared about. The people around her, Chase, Chloe, Blair, even Kai – were they safe with her? Or was she a magnet for the very darkness that claimed her mother?
She had to know. She had to uncover this truth, not just for her mother, but for herself. To understand the target she had been, and perhaps, still was. The reckless abandon she had embraced now felt like a desperate, futile attempt to control a fate that had been set long before she could even remember.
This wasn't just about revenge. This was about survival. A deep, primal instinct flared within her, cutting through the terror. She needed answers. And she needed them now.
As the words sink in, a sudden, sharp crack sounds from downstairs, followed by the distant murmur of voices.