Page 4 of Red Dreams

“We need to move,” I say, standing despite the room's sudden tilt. “Every second we waste?—”

“Is a second Layla could be in danger, I know.” Ethan surprises me with his boldness. “But you're no good to her if you tear those stitches and bleed out before we even start looking.”

I hate that he's right. I slump back onto the couch, letting him check the wound just above my armpit. Every second I lay here feels like a betrayal to Layla, but I force myself to breathe through the pain.

Ethan mumbles to himself as he peels back the bandage, his brow furrowed. “Okay, okay, it doesn't look too bad. I mean, it looks bad, but not, like, life-threateningly bad. I think.”

“You sure you know what you're doing?” I ask, my voice tight.

“It's not like we have a lot of options here. Just ... try not to move too much, okay?”

I bite back a retort, reminding myself that Ethan's out of his depth here. We both are.

“Just clean it and wrap it up,” I grunt.

I grit my teeth as he dabs at the wound with a damp cloth, the cold water sending spasms down my spine. Ethan works in silence, his face scrunched up in a mixture of concentration and mild nausea.

“Talk to me,” I demand, needing a distraction. “What do we know?”

Satisfied with his emergency triage for the moment, Ethan straightens and returns to his laptop. “Not much, unfortunately. I've been monitoring police scanners, traffic cams, anything I can access remotely. There's no sign of Layla anywhere. It's like she vanished into thin air.”

A cold dread settles in my gut. “And the woman? The one who shot me?”

Ethan hesitates, the confusion clear in his eyes. “I don't know anything about a woman. When I found you, there was no one else there. Mr. Black, what happened in that server room?”

I close my eyes, the memories flooding back. Cassie. My daughter. Alive. The baby girl I thought I'd lost, now a creature of Morelli's creation. But Frank Morelli’s dead, his life squeezed out by my hands. And Cassie has Layla.

But Ethan doesn't know any of this. How could he? I never told anyone about Cassie or my past. And now that past has come back to haunt me—to hurt Layla.

“It's complicated,” I mutter, not ready to delve into that particular hell. “Just keep looking.”

Ethan nods, though questions burn in his eyes. He turns back to his computer, and I force myself to stand again, gnashing my teeth against the streak of fire in my shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Ethan asks in alarm.

“Getting ready,” I growl, scanning the too-bright basement for my gear. “We can’t hide here forever.”

I spot my go-bag in the corner, relieved Ethan had the foresight to grab it. I rummage through it, taking stock. Extra mags, a burner phone, a wad of cash. It's not much, but it's a start.

“Kaden, uh, Mr. Black, wait,” Ethan says. “You can't just go charging out there. We need a plan.”

I round on him, my patience fraying. “I have a plan. Find Layla, and put a bullet in anyone who gets in my way.”

Ethan flinches but stands his ground. “And how exactly do you propose we do that? We have no leads and no idea where to even start looking. If we go in guns blazing, we could end up getting Layla killed.”

As much as I hate to admit it, he's right. Cassie's smart; she's calculating. She'll be expecting me to come after her.

She’s my daughter.

She shot her own father in cold blood.

I slump back on the couch. Each core memory is a jagged shard slicing into my heart.

I remember the day Cassie was born, how tiny and perfect she was in my arms. Her little hand gripping my finger with a strength that belied her size. I remember her first steps, her first words. The way her face would light up when I came home, her little legs running to meet me at the door.

But then the memories turn dark, twisted. The day I came home to find the house ransacked and blood on the floor. Cassie's room empty, her favorite stuffed rabbit abandoned on the bed. The frantic search, the police reports, the dead ends. The realization that my past sins had been visited upon my twelve-year-old daughter.

And what I turned myself into so I could find her.

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