Page 5 of Red Dreams

It never occurred to me that Cassie would do something similar to survive. I can't reconcile the sweet, innocent girl I knew with the cold-eyed woman who put a bullet in my shoulder. What did Morelli do to her? What horrors did she endure to become this depraved reflection of herself?

The way Cassie smiled after she shot me, the pleasure she took in demanding Layla’s life in return for mine, emboldens the voice in my head:You failed her. You couldn’t protect her. And now look what she’s become.

Cassie’s bullet tore through my flesh like it meant nothing. But … she didn’t aim to kill.

“Mr. Black?”

Ethan’s voice pulls me back.

“What?” I snap, harsher than I intend.

He winces but presses on. “I think I may have found something.”

I'm on my feet, ignoring the stabbing pain in my right side, and walk over to Ethan’s makeshift workstation. “What is it?”

“I've been trying to trace the source of the outside surveillance footage from Pulse Dynamic’s building. Whoever hijacked the feed in the server room did a damn good job of covering their tracks.” Ethan furrows his brow and leans closer to the screen. “But every connection leaves a trace, no matter how faint.”

“Some kind of event was going on,” I say, fragments of images coming together in my head as I try to recall what led up to Layla and me being cornered in the server room. “Powerful people were there to conduct black market trades. Morelli was there, and his Mafia family always ensures their Ghost Leader doesn’t leave a trace when he’s present.”

“So it’s official. Morelli has her,” Ethan concludes in a soft voice.

“No.”

My denial draws his head up.

“Morelli’s dead. I killed him.”

Ethan’s eyes widen behind his glasses. “Holy shit. Then who has her?”

I resist the urge to bow my head and allow the sheer weight of my circumstances to physically overwhelm me. “His … successor.”

Ethan turns his laptop to face me. “I've been trying to trace the digital trail. It's not much, but there's a faint signal, a sort of electronic echo.”

I lean forward, ignoring the pull of my stitches.

“It's like a digital signature,” Ethan explains. “Unique to the device that captured the footage?—”

“I know what it is.”

“Right. Of course.” Ethan clears his throat. “A similar signature is bouncing off servers across the city. It’s heavily encrypted, but the pattern is the same.”

Hope, dangerous and fragile, blooms in my chest. “And?”

“I think I can trace it to a physical location. I’m running a decryption algorithm now.”

The minutes drag by as Ethan spins the laptop to face him again, his eyes locked on the screen as he types. I pace the small room, my mind competing with itself on what could be the worst possibility, each one more grim than the last. What if Cassie's already gone underground? What if she's killed Layla? What if?—

“Got it!” Ethan exclaims, his face awash in the blue glow of the screen. “The signal's coming from a place called the Siren's Call. It's a high-end nightclub downtown.”

I freeze, the name sending a chill down my spine.The Siren’s Call.I know it well. Most of Greycliff’s residents believe it to be the number one way to enjoy nightlife around here, if one has deep pockets. Otherwise, they choose the only other option, a cheap dive bar nearby. But the popular nightclub is just a glitzy facade for the dark deeds that happen behind its hidden doors.

I never thought I'd have to set foot in that place again.

“Are you sure?” I ask, my voice unintentionally rough.

Ethan eyes me, alerted by my tone, and licks his lips before responding. “The, uh, encryption on the signal matches the surveillance footage from Pulse Dynamics, so … yes?”

Unbidden, the most difficult memory of Layla surfaces. She’s splayed across her bed, naked, her knees falling to the side as she exposes herself to me. Her breath skims over my skin, a fleeting warmth that pulled me from the hollow where I usually reside. Layla’s golden blond hair, cascading over her shoulders, brushes against her nipples along with my fingers, and for a heartbeat, I’m anchored.

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