Page 69 of The Birthday Girl
The infant’s shriek cut the air, the sound pulling Danielle back from the edge. She kicked when Tahlia dashed forward, knocking her off balance, then hauled herself up and stumbled toward the living room, every step a fight.
Blood blurred the floor into red lines, but Danielle never loosened her hold. She wrapped her free arm around the baby tighter until the little body was a warm, furious weight against her ribs.
Tahlia lunged again, and their hands met over the infant like two storms colliding. Danielle punched, not with technique but with pure, animal instinct. Her fist caught Tahlia’s jaw, and Tahlia staggered long enough for Danielle to slip past her. She limped through the living room, then to the bedroom, where beams of street light sliced through the blinds in narrow slats.
She rushed to the window, but her adrenaline was depleting, replaced by agonizing pains that dragged her down. She collapsed onto the bed, the baby still clutched tight to her chest. Warmth spread across her shirt, copper flooded her mouth, but she held on with the grip of a mother desperate to protect her child.
Tahlia stood in the doorway, watching, chest heaving, hanging low, her own body trembling as if the fight had drained her too.
“I hate you,” Tahlia said, voice flat and ragged. “I hate everything about you, especially how you thought everyone would pick you over me.”
Danielle rocked, breath coming in sharp, shallow pulls as she stared at her sister with an expression that was neither surrender nor triumph. “I picked Tyriq,” she whispered. “And he picked me over you. That’s why I have his baby and you don’t.”
Tahlia took a slow step forward, and the baby’s cry filled the silence between them as if she knew her time was up.
“If that were the case, you wouldn’t have needed Shanice to do your dirty work. He didn’t want you. You know it, and I know it. Cut the bullshit.”
Knowing it was true, Danielle pressed her cheek to the infant’s head and sobbed, soundless at first, then raw. She knew she couldn’t run, and that she wouldn’t survive what had already been done, but she would hold on for her baby until she couldn’t. That was the least she could do, considering she had put her in this situation.
Tahlia watched her for a long moment, satisfaction flickering across her face, and then she turned away without another word. The door clicked shut behind her with a sound both final and small. The baby’s wail cut through the room, and Danielle kept holding, breathing into the tiny neck, counting each of her heartbeats.
When she heard her front door slam, relief washed over her in a shaky wave. She thought it was over. She thought Tahlia was finished.
But outside, a trunk closed, and footsteps pounded back toward the house. Tahlia was far from done.
She returned to the bedroom with a heavy bag in hand, her eyes bright with intent. She set the bag on the floor beside the bed and began to unpack it piece by piece.
Danielle’s blood went cold when she realized her sister hadn’t left her to die. She had left only to prepare her for what came next.
“You don’t get to torture me as a kid, sleep with my man, have his bastard child, and think there would be no consequences for your actions,” Tahlia growled as she positioned her tools in a methodical order.
“Try not to die too soon. We’re about to have some fun.”
25- Victory Lap
Vega’s phone rattled against the stack of witness statements he had been staring at for forty minutes without turning a page. When he saw the name Morales flash across the screen, he snatched it up before the second vibration.
“Detective—” Static hissed through the line. “A therapist named Dr. Farrell just called about Tahlia Banks. Says her sister Danielle—” the connection cracked, “—is in danger.”
The pen in Vega’s hand snapped, blue ink bleeding across his palm as he lunged for his jacket.
“You called dispatch?”
“Saw you were investigating a case against Ms. Banks. Wanted you to know first.”
“Good,” Vega muttered. “I’m on my way now.” He ended the call and shoved the phone into his pocket. “Ramirez, grab your coat. Danielle Banks is under threat.”
Ramirez looked up, his brows rising at Vega’s clipped tone, but when he saw his jaw clenched and his eyes hard, he didn’t botherasking questions. He could see the urgency etched into every line of his partner’s face.
Within seconds, both detectives were moving through the precinct like fire had lit under them. The lights above cast harsh shadows across the bullpen as officers stepped aside to let them pass. Vega’s mind raced through every scrap of information he had on Tahlia Banks, each piece forming a picture darker than the last. The woman had seemed calculating during their brief encounter, but now he wondered if her composure had masked something far more sinister.
Ramirez matched his partner’s stride as they pushed through the glass doors leading to the parking garage. He had noticed the way Vega’s hands trembled slightly when he mentioned Danielle Banks, a tell that spoke to the weight of the case. Ramirez had worked enough jobs with Vega to recognize when his partner was running on more than instinct. This was pressure, and Vega felt it pressing down hard.
The keys cut into Vega’s fist as the cruiser’s door slammed behind him. He started the engine, and once he was sure Ramirez was strapped inside, his tires bit into the asphalt, leaving rubber and the smell of burned tires behind as he accelerated into darkness.
When he turned onto Danielle’s street, his headlights swept over a sleek black Genesis parked in her driveway, polished and new. Vega knew instantly it didn’t belong to Danielle. From what he’d learned, she could barely keep her old car from falling apart, and she didn’t have a job that would afford her that kind of vehicle.
The cruiser lurched to a halt as Vega jammed it against the curb. His boots hammered down the walkway, then up the porch steps, knuckles raised toward the door when a woman’s scream tore through the night, piercing enough to freeze him mid-motion. His hand suspended in the air for half a second beforehe threw his weight sideways and banged his shoulder into the doorframe.
