Page 17 of Red Dreams

“Seventeen,” I finally say. The admission falls like a stone.

“Did becoming the Scythe help you forget? All those contracts, all that blood money... was it easier than remembering you had a daughter?”

Her question falters as she looks down at Layla. “He's so good at math. Always was. Even keeps count of his sins.”

“Cassie, you can’t possibly believe I would become this version of myself if I gave up searching for you.”

Cassie’s fingers sink deeper into Layla’s scalp. Layla’s nostrils start to flare.

“Want to know my count, Daddy? Want to know how many I’ve killed?”

Something beeps. Soft, almost subliminal. A flash of text scrolls across one of the screens behind Cassie by her elbow.

Ethan.

Through the monitors behind her, I catch glimpses of his work: security cameras going dark in sequence, emergency exits unlocking, backup systems failing. He's isolating this floor, ensuring Cassie's men can't reach us even if she calls for them. More importantly, he's making sure we'll have a way out once this ends.

I steel myself.Keep stalling. I can still get both of them out of here.

“None,” I answer Cassie. “You haven’t killed anyone. Because you knew exactly where I was. You just wanted me to suffer first.”

“Ding, ding, ding!” Her laugh could shatter the window. “Give the big, scary Scythe a prize. But you're only half right.” She jerks Layla’s head up until it’s painful. “I didn't kill anyone because Papa Morelli taught me something better. Want to see?”

My hand still holding a pistol clenches around the warmed metal.

I can’t. I won’t. I can’t. I must.

Cassie releases Layla with a shove. Layla grimaces and wheezes but keeps her gaze locked on mine, like I’m offering her solace.

But Cassie grabs the back of Layla’s head again, jerks it back, and graces Layla’s neck with a knife this time.

“I'm going to kill her because you love her.” Cassie’s voice breaks on every word. “Because you looked at her and saw something worth saving. Worth protecting. Worth?—”

Layla moves.

Her head snaps back, catching Cassie in the nose. The knife slides across skin but misses her artery as Cassie staggers. I'm already in motion, crossing the space between us like death given form.

But Cassie's faster than I remember. The gun I’d let fall to the floor appears in her hand like magic, leveled at Layla's head.

“Choose,” she snarls through bloody teeth. “Shootmeand watch me die, or drop your weapon and watchherdie.”

I stop short, my pistol raised and aimed at Cassie's heart. The impossible choice robs the air from my lungs. Shoot my own daughter, or let the woman who's woken me from a deep, hollow sleep die before my eyes. Layla, who's suffered so much already, who's given me a reason to hope again. I can't lose her. I won't survive it.

But Cassie...

Layla remains still under Cassie’s hold, a gun pressed to her temple. But her beautiful, mismatched eyes never waver from mine, and in them, I see her unspoken plea to do what needs to be done. Even now, even with her life on the line, she's trying to be strong for me.

My heart implodes in my chest. Cassie's finger tightens on the trigger, her eyes alight with a manic desperation. She's trembling, tears streaming down her blood-smeared cheeks, but her aim stays true.

This murderous version of her mixes with the little girl who used to fall asleep in my arms. The child who trusted me to keep the monsters at bay, never knowing we would become ones ourselves. Shooting her would be like putting a bullet through my own heart.

And that’s when the idea comes.

I turn my gun, pushing the muzzle against my chest, right above my heart.

Cassie’s gaze narrows as she follows the movement.

“I choose neither,” I say, my voice steady despite the tremor at the base of my throat.

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