Page 1 of Red Dreams

1

LAYLA

The zip ties cut deeper as Cassie explains exactly how she'll break her father, starting with me.

“Poor little Layla,” Cassie coos. “You’re looking a bit worse for wear.”

She wraps her hand around my throat, hoping for a reaction. Those eyes, so much like Kaden’s, scrutinize my exposed, abused body. There are angry welts across my back from the lash of a belt, deep purple contusions on my stomach from the toes of Cassie’s shoes, and raw, weeping cuts from her gleaming blade.

I try not to flinch, not to swallow, but her grip tightens, forcing me to choke before her hand falls away, and I slump forward, coughing up blood.

Laughing under her breath, she circles me slowly, her heels clicking against the marble floors. I keep my attention down, tracing the swirling patterns in the expensive stone. Anything to avoid seeing my broken reflection in all the polished brass adorning the private suite.

“I really thought you'd last longer,” Cassie muses, trailing a perfectly manicured nail down my spine. I shudder, goose bumps erupting across my skin.

She lingers on a particularly vicious gash at the small of my back, the edges ragged and inflamed. I remember the searing pain as she carved into my flesh, her knife as sharp as her smile. Each cut was deliberate, placed with surgical precision to maximize the agony without allowing me the mercy of unconsciousness.

“You know, I'm almost impressed,” Cassie remarks. “Most people would’ve blubbered by now. Begged for death. But not you.” She leans down until her mouth is hot against my ear. “No wonder Daddy likes you so much.”

I want to spit in Cassie’s face, to tell her to go to hell, but my throat is raw from endless hours of screaming. The salty, metallic taste of blood coats my tongue. How long has it been since she ripped me from the illusion of safety and threw me into this nightmare? Days? Weeks? Time blurs together in an endless cycle of agony and humiliation.

Cassie straightens, her movements feline as she stalks back into my line of sight. She's stunning in a cruel, twisted way that reminds me of the unforgiving cliffs of Greycliff. Her eyes, a piercing steel blue that could cut through bone, lock against mine with an intensity that sends ice water trickling into my stomach.

Water would be nice, actually. Or food. Clothing. It’d be especially great if she’d loosen the zip ties binding my wrists together behind my back.

Cassie’s full lips, painted a deep crimson, curve into a smirk as she notices the thoughts playing across my features. She tosses her head, her glossy raven hair cascading over her shoulders like a polluted waterfall.

“I see you've noticed the family resemblance,” Cassie purrs. “Tell me, does it make it harder, knowing that the man you're so desperately trying to protect shares my blood?”

I glare at her, rasping, “Kaden is nothing like you.”

“Oh, but he is.”

She crouches down in front of me, her tight leather pants protesting. Cassie’s perfume, something strong and spicy, invades my nostrils. “What is it about my father that inspires such loyalty in you? Is it the way he fucks you? The way he makes you feel special, like you're the only one who truly understands him?”

“Go to hell.”

Cassie laughs, a cold, brittle sound.

“Hell is too good for me,” Cassie says with a wink. “Besides, we have so much to talk about. Does Daddy still go for those ridiculously long runs every morning? Along the cliffs, no doubt, so he can brood in peace.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” I snap, but my voice wavers. I know for a fact he no longer runs because the last time he did, his daughter was killed. No, kidnapped. Cassie’s not dead. Ten years later, she’s right here, playing mind games and enjoying every fucking second of it.

“Of course you do, Layla. You know everything about him, don't you? Like how he takes his coffee. Black, two sugars. And let’s not forget about your charming little lighthouse cottage that he converted into your little love nest. Did you think those cameras were for your protection?”

Cassie's lips curl as she circles me again.

“Every single one, positioned exactly how he always does it. Three feet above eye level, angled down at precisely thirty-seven degrees. He's been doing security installations the same way since his military days.”

Cassie pauses, running a finger along the crystal decanter near the fully stocked antique bar I’ve never been allowed to get close to. “The way he tested each sensor twice. Checked the motion detectors three times. He's obsessive like that. Has been since I was taken. But my favorite part?”

“Stop,” I whisper.

She doesn’t. “How he made sure the primary camera in your bedroom had the perfect view of your bed. Oh, he told himself it was for your safety, but we both know better, don't we? The way he'd watch you sleep for hours through that feed. Did you know he'd break in and adjust your covers if you kicked them off? Such a protective Daddy.”

Cassie strolls in front of me, propping her hands on her slender hips. “He installed that system thinking he was keeping his precious Wraithling safe. Never realizing he was just giving me a front-row seat to your little love story. Every touch, every kiss, every time you spread your legs for my father—I saw it all. Rather kinky, wasn't it? The way you let him watch you pleasure yourself that night?”

I raise my head and spit out, “You’relying!” but the movement only triggers the tears building up in my eyes to escape.

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