Page 89 of Red Dreams

“And you think shuffling me off to some stuffy university is the answer?” She snorts. “I have an empire to run.”

“Had an empire,” I correct. “The Siren's Call is under new management now. And part of that management includes ensuring you receive a proper education.”

Layla chimes in, “It’s not a punishment, Cassie. It’s a chance to grow, to acclimate into normal life.”

“My path is right here!” Cassie gestures around the server room, desperation creeping into her voice. “This is what I was made for. Molded for. You can't just take that away from me.”

I step forward, capturing her chin and forcing her gaze to mine. “I can and I will. Because despite what Morelli drilled into you, there is more to life than this. Than him. You have a brilliant mind, Cassie. It's time you learned to use it for something other than destruction.”

She wrenches out of my grip, breathing hard. “What, you want me to join the debate team? Run for student council?”

Layla says, “Campuses have a lot of predators. Women are assaulted constantly. You can help put an end to that with your, uh, talents.”

“We were thinking along the lines of a controlled hunting ground,” I say, agreeing with Layla. “A place to channel all that rage into something productive.”

Cassie's eyes widen for a fraction of a second before narrowing again. “I don't need your permission or your direction.”

“No, you don't,” I agree. “But you do need a purpose. Something more than this vendetta that's consumed you. So what's it going to be, daughter? Delete the Oracle and forge your own path, or cling to the ghost of a man who never deserved your loyalty in the first place?”

Cassie harrumphs, but it’s obvious that wheels are turning in her head. She has a hunger for a new challenge. It’s a look I know well.

“And you think I'll, what, start attending frat parties and tailgates?” Cassie hedges, arching a brow.

“No, I think you'll do what you've always done. Observe. Manipulate. Destroy.” I lower my voice. “Only this time, you'll do it on your own terms. Not Morelli's. Not mine. Yours.”

The silence stretches between us, broken only by the hum of the servers. Finally, Cassie turns back to the terminal. With a few swift keystrokes, the lines of code vanish from the screen.

Cassie steps back, a mixture of loss and liberation rippling across her features. She looks at me, then Layla, as if searching for approval or condemnation. But she'll find neither in our expressions. This was her choice to make. Her first real one, perhaps ever.

“It's done,” Cassie says, her voice steady despite the magnitude of what she's just done. “The Oracle is gone. Along with any backups or traces of the code.”

I nod once, pride blooming in my chest. It's a foreign feeling when it comes to Cassie. One I could get used to. “You made the right call.”

“Did I?” she challenges, crossing her arms. “Or did I just prove that you can manipulate me as easily as Morelli ever could?”

“The difference,” Layla interjects softly, “is that we want you to grow beyond need for manipulation at all. Morelli wanted to keep you dependent on him. We want you to be your own woman.”

Cassie digests that, gaze flicking between us before landing back on the blank terminal screen.

“I've never been my own anything,” she admits.

I survey the dark servers, now purged of Morelli's poisonous legacy. A kingdom of circuits and wires, ripe for the taking. My kingdom. Our kingdom.

We exit the server room, the chill of the space replaced by the warmth of possibility. Layla's hip brushes mine as we climb the stairs, a silent promise of things to come.

As we emerge from the subterranean depths of the Siren's Call, the revelry of the club swirls around us—pulsing music, clinking glasses, laughter both false and genuine. But there is another sound, faint beneath the din. The sound of muffled cries and rattling chains.

I lead Cassie and Layla down a hidden hallway, the plush crimson carpet giving way to rough stone as we descend into the bowels of the building. The dank air fills my nostrils, the scent of desperation and fear almost tangible.

We reach a heavy iron door, a single flickering light casting ominous shadows. Cassie retrieves an ancient-looking key from her pocket and unlocks it with a resounding clang. The door swings open, revealing a dimly lit chamber that was once use for illegal rum runs and now harbors captives.

Cages line the walls, and within them, the hunched figures of Cassie's prisoners.

Fathers and daughters, their faces gaunt and haunted, their eyes hollow from the unspeakable horrors Cassie subjected them to under Morelli's command. They flinch as we enter, cowering against the far walls of their cells.

Layla makes a choked sound beside me, her hand flying to her mouth. I glance at her, seeing the shock and revulsion in her mismatched eyes. For her, these broken souls were just images on a screen, distant and unreal.

“I know,” I murmur, brushing my thumb across her knuckles. “But you're not a captive audience this time. You're here as a liberator.”

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