Red Dreams (The Reaper Duet #2)

1. Layla

1

LAYLA

The zip ties cut deeper as Cassie explains exactly how she'll break her father, starting with me.

“Poor little Layla,” Cassie coos. “You’re looking a bit worse for wear.”

She wraps her hand around my throat, hoping for a reaction. Those eyes, so much like Kaden’s, scrutinize my exposed, abused body. There are angry welts across my back from the lash of a belt, deep purple contusions on my stomach from the toes of Cassie’s shoes, and raw, weeping cuts from her gleaming blade.

I try not to flinch, not to swallow, but her grip tightens, forcing me to choke before her hand falls away, and I slump forward, coughing up blood.

Laughing under her breath, she circles me slowly, her heels clicking against the marble floors. I keep my attention down, tracing the swirling patterns in the expensive stone. Anything to avoid seeing my broken reflection in all the polished brass adorning the private suite.

“I really thought you'd last longer,” Cassie muses, trailing a perfectly manicured nail down my spine. I shudder, goose bumps erupting across my skin.

She lingers on a particularly vicious gash at the small of my back, the edges ragged and inflamed. I remember the searing pain as she carved into my flesh, her knife as sharp as her smile. Each cut was deliberate, placed with surgical precision to maximize the agony without allowing me the mercy of unconsciousness.

“You know, I'm almost impressed,” Cassie remarks. “Most people would’ve blubbered by now. Begged for death. But not you.” She leans down until her mouth is hot against my ear. “No wonder Daddy likes you so much.”

I want to spit in Cassie’s face, to tell her to go to hell, but my throat is raw from endless hours of screaming. The salty, metallic taste of blood coats my tongue. How long has it been since she ripped me from the illusion of safety and threw me into this nightmare? Days? Weeks? Time blurs together in an endless cycle of agony and humiliation.

Cassie straightens, her movements feline as she stalks back into my line of sight. She's stunning in a cruel, twisted way that reminds me of the unforgiving cliffs of Greycliff. Her eyes, a piercing steel blue that could cut through bone, lock against mine with an intensity that sends ice water trickling into my stomach.

Water would be nice, actually. Or food. Clothing. It’d be especially great if she’d loosen the zip ties binding my wrists together behind my back.

Cassie’s full lips, painted a deep crimson, curve into a smirk as she notices the thoughts playing across my features. She tosses her head, her glossy raven hair cascading over her shoulders like a polluted waterfall.

“I see you've noticed the family resemblance,” Cassie purrs. “Tell me, does it make it harder, knowing that the man you're so desperately trying to protect shares my blood?”

I glare at her, rasping, “Kaden is nothing like you.”

“Oh, but he is.”

She crouches down in front of me, her tight leather pants protesting. Cassie’s perfume, something strong and spicy, invades my nostrils. “What is it about my father that inspires such loyalty in you? Is it the way he fucks you? The way he makes you feel special, like you're the only one who truly understands him?”

“Go to hell.”

Cassie laughs, a cold, brittle sound.

“Hell is too good for me,” Cassie says with a wink. “Besides, we have so much to talk about. Does Daddy still go for those ridiculously long runs every morning? Along the cliffs, no doubt, so he can brood in peace.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” I snap, but my voice wavers. I know for a fact he no longer runs because the last time he did, his daughter was killed. No, kidnapped. Cassie’s not dead. Ten years later, she’s right here, playing mind games and enjoying every fucking second of it.

“Of course you do, Layla. You know everything about him, don't you? Like how he takes his coffee. Black, two sugars. And let’s not forget about your charming little lighthouse cottage that he converted into your little love nest. Did you think those cameras were for your protection?”

Cassie's lips curl as she circles me again.

“Every single one, positioned exactly how he always does it. Three feet above eye level, angled down at precisely thirty-seven degrees. He's been doing security installations the same way since his military days.”

Cassie pauses, running a finger along the crystal decanter near the fully stocked antique bar I’ve never been allowed to get close to. “The way he tested each sensor twice. Checked the motion detectors three times. He's obsessive like that. Has been since I was taken. But my favorite part?”

“Stop,” I whisper.

She doesn’t. “How he made sure the primary camera in your bedroom had the perfect view of your bed. Oh, he told himself it was for your safety, but we both know better, don't we? The way he'd watch you sleep for hours through that feed. Did you know he'd break in and adjust your covers if you kicked them off? Such a protective Daddy.”

Cassie strolls in front of me, propping her hands on her slender hips. “He installed that system thinking he was keeping his precious Wraithling safe. Never realizing he was just giving me a front-row seat to your little love story. Every touch, every kiss, every time you spread your legs for my father—I saw it all. Rather kinky, wasn't it? The way you let him watch you pleasure yourself that night?”

I raise my head and spit out, “You’re lying !” but the movement only triggers the tears building up in my eyes to escape.

Cassie's voice drops to a whisper. “But here's what you don't know, Layla. While Daddy dearest was getting off to your little show, I was in the warehouse with him. Just a few feet away, hidden in the shadows. Close enough to smell his sweat, to hear those pathetic sounds he made when he came. Quite the family reunion, wouldn't you say?”

Cassie spins, unbothered by my trying not to puke, and walks to a nearby coffee table. “You know what's truly pathetic? The way he cared for that mangy cat and her kittens. The great Scythe, feared assassin, hand-feeding strays. Did you think that made him soft? Human?” She picks up something from the table—a rope of red licorice. “The same way he always has these on hand when he kills. You see, I used to love red licorice. He'd bring me a pack every Friday after his morning run.”

I say through trembling lips, “He never told me that.”

“Of course not.” Cassie takes a deliberate bite, chewing slowly. “Just like he never told you how he’d force his marks to gag and choke on this stuff until they died. Or how he’d revive them and do it some more, depending on his mood that day. But that's the thing about Daddy—he keeps the most important secrets to himself. Like how many times I've watched him break down at his surveillance monitors, torn by his obsession with you and giving zero shits about me.”

“He loves you,” I plead, my voice cracking. “Everything he did?—”

“Was for me?” Cassie cuts me off with a snarl. “No, Layla, baby. Everything he did was for himself. His selfishness. His denial. And you? You're just another failed attempt.”

The cold floor seeps into my throbbing, battered knees. The zip ties ate through the skin of my wrists a while ago, but it's nothing compared to how her words tear into me.

I taste copper. I've been biting my cheek to keep from screaming in terror, frustration … and defeat.

“Like father, like daughter,” I manage to retort. “You're just as obsessed with him as he is with me.”

Her hand whips out, cracking across my face. The sting brings fresh tears, but I refuse to look away.

“Did it hurt?” I ask, watching her face carefully. “Seeing him care for someone who isn’t you?”

Cassie’s composure slips for just a second—a crack in her professional veil of cruelty. But then she smiles, and it's worse than any slap across the face.

“Let's watch a movie, shall we?”

Cassie pivots, reaching for a remote on the table. Directing it to a wood-paneled wall, she clicks it. A large white screen unrolls from its hidden port in the ceiling, the buzz of its mechanics mimicking the grinding of my joints every time I shift.

The mounted screen flickers to life, to a drone view of Kaden and me at the top of the lighthouse widow’s walk, his knife at my throat as he pushes me against the railing and his fingers claim me. I remember the salt spray on my skin, the way his touch burned hotter than good sense.

“Look how easily you gave in to him,” she taunts. “The daughter of an absent father desperate for a big, strong man's approval.”

“You don't know anything about us,” I grit out, but my heart hammers against my ribs as she flips to more footage.

“I know a whole fucking lot,” she says, stopping on a video of Kaden in his warehouse, watching my staged performance in bed, the straps of my nightgown sliding down, my fingers...

“This was my favorite part,” Cassie muses. “The way you thought you were so clever, creating that loop to escape. But you weren't trying to run, were you? You wanted him to catch you. Needed it. Just like he needed to own you.”

“That’s not?—”

“True?” Cassie laughs. “Let's see what else I have.”

I close my eyes, remembering how powerful I felt that night, how in control. Now that arrogance turns to ash in my mouth.

Cassie grabs my chin, forcing my eyes open.

“Watch,” she commands, and I see myself cradling a bleeding Kaden, confessing my love. The video is crystal clear, my tears cutting tracks through his blood on my face, my fingers desperately trying to stem the flow from his wound. Even through the screen, I spot the exact moment his eyes started to glaze, when the poison began taking hold.

“I love you,” my recorded self whispers.

The raw devastation in his eyes haunts me now as it did then. After ten years of being the Scythe, of carving his emotions out alongside his victims' hearts, those three words from me shattered him.

I strain against the zip ties, needing to touch the screen, to somehow reach through time and hold him again.

“Did the antidote work?” I ask Cassie. My voice is unrecognizable, even to me. “Is he even alive?”

Cassie's closed-lipped smile tells me she won't answer, and that uncertainty is another form of torture.

The footage continues, showcasing how they dragged me away from him, his blood bright on my skin as I fought to stay by his side. His hand reaching for me, my name on his lips even as he collapsed.

The last thing I'd seen was Kaden’s face twisted in anguish. The last thing he'd seen was his daughter orchestrating my abduction.

Both of us helpless to stop it.

A sob rips from my throat, but I force myself to keep watching. To witness every second of our separation, to burn it into my memory in case it’s all I have left.

“Your biggest weakness?” Cassie prods. “It's not your fear. It's not even your need for him. It's that you actually believe love can save a monster like my father.”

“You're wrong,” I whisper, but the words catch in my throat as she pulls out a rope of red licorice and chews on it like she’s eating movie theater snacks. “The real monster is what Morelli turned you into.”

Her face contorts before she spits a wad of chewed-up licorice at my face. It lands against my cheek with a wet smack before sliding down my chest and landing between my knees on the floor.

“I’ve seen everything ,” Cassie seethes. “Every nightmare he gave you, every time he made you come. And now?” She trails a finger down my cheek, following the path of her sugar-sweet saliva. “Now I get to break you the same way Morelli broke me. Only this time, Daddy gets to watch.”