Page 19 of Red Dreams

I swallow against the pressure on my throat, against the truth in her words. “There's always something left to save.”

My fatal mistake comes before I can stop it. I let my eyes wander, allowing them to land on Layla’s unconscious form on the floor, blood trickling from the gash on her temple and staining her hair crimson.

Cassie notices it, her expression transforming into cold fury before a humorless laugh escapes her lips. “Oh, Dad. Convincing yourself that you’re the hero trying to save the princess when you’re the story’s villain. But this isn’t your little girl’s fairy tale. Layla isn’t your light to guide you home. This is a nightmare, and I’m not letting you wake up.”

I force myself to face the hatred and betrayal blazing in those ice-blue eyes that once looked at me with such love and trust. “Cassie, I?—”

But before I can finish, she moves with a speed that defies logic. In a blur of black and crimson, she slams the butt of thegun against my head, and an explosion of pain blooms behind my eyes.

I tilt sideways, the room swaying as I fight to stay on my feet. Cassie takes advantage of my disorientation, driving her knee into my groin and making me double over in a painful whoosh of remaining oxygen.

Gasping, I buckle, my vision swimming. Through the haze of agony, I see Cassie step over my body, her heels clicking against marble as she approaches Layla’s unmoving body.

Cassie looms over Layla, her form wavering and splitting into multiples. The gun dangles loosely from her fingers. She crouches down, bringing her face level with Layla’s.

“I win, Daddy,” she says as she trails a finger down Layla’s cheek.

This isn’t a game to me,I thought I could say, but I can’t move my lips.

I try to reach for her, for them both, but my vision is failing.

Paralyzed by the insidious pull of unconsciousness, I blink once, twice, helpless as Cassie hovers over Layla.

Then everything goes dark.

7

LAYLA

Returning to consciousness is like drowning in reverse, each forced breath a new way to suffer. Each heartbeat is a hammer to my skull. Something cold presses against one cheek—the floor—except for one spot that feels wrong. Warm and wet.

Moving sends lightning bolts through my closed lids, so I force my muscles to relax while trying to piece together where I am and what happened.

Sound comes next, distorted like I'm underwater. A steady hum somewhere to my left. My own threadbare breathing. But there's another sound, barely there. Another set of exhales, slow and uneven.

I'm not alone.

The effort to open my eyes costs more than it should. The world blurs, then sharpens in pieces. Dark wood panels. Brass fixtures gone green with artistic age. A massive desk that looks like it was carved from shipwrecks. Details from before I blacked out, when this was just another opulent torture chamber in Cassie's private quarters.

Cassie. Kaden’s daughter. The Siren’s Call suite.

Kaden.

KADEN.

The irregular breathing comes again, closer than I thought. I force my head to turn, fighting the wave of nausea brought on by the movement.

My heart stops.

Kaden lies crumpled on the floor beside me, his face turned away. Still. So still.

Any tactical gear he wore is gone. The feared Scythe is as naked as I’ve ever seen him—maskless in a black T-shirt, cargo pants, and bare feet.

I dig my nails into the carpet, dragging myself onto my elbows despite the extreme desire to lie down and go back to sleep. Blood oozes down the side of my face, hot and sticky, from where Cassie's blow sent me crashing to the floor. The room tilts and spins as I stagger to my feet, nearly losing my balance.

But I can't stop. Not when Kaden lies there so still, his chest barely rising with each shallow breath.

I half stumble, half shuffle to him, not trusting my legs to hold me up. Glass crunches under my bare feet from the shattered decanter that must have toppled during Kaden and Cassie’s confrontation, but I hardly feel the sting. All I can focus on is reaching him.

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