14. Layla
14
LAYLA
The wall of screens is bright with human suffering. Cassie is making us watch, but instead of focusing on the women’s faces and how much they hurt, I force myself to mentally list the details and try to note anything that could help us.
I’m not tied up anymore, curled into a fetal position and waiting for the next beating. I can finally be useful and start using my mind now that Kaden is supporting me through this wretched hell. My eyes drift from frame to frame while Cassie gleefully narrates each father's descent into monstrosity by torturing other men’s daughters. In one feed, a man methodically breaks fingers while his own daughter watches. In another, someone applies a branding iron with mechanical precision. The scenes blur together until my vision swims and my stomach twists, but something keeps drawing my attention to the bottom right monitor. Not obviously different, but wrong enough to make my tech-oriented mind itch.
“Monitor number four took the longest,” Cassie says through the speakers, distracting me from peering closer. “Father and daughter clung to their trust in each other as if their unwavering loyalty would force me to let them go.” She laughs under her breath. “Isn’t that sweet?”
It hurts to swallow when I look where she directed. A woman, maybe a few years younger than me, is held by another man, a knife to her throat. The man, likely her father, stands over another woman bound on a lavish velvet couch, his hand shaking as he holds a scalpel.
“Wraithling.” Kaden’s voice cuts through the screams coming from the speakers and the blood-rush in my ears. “Don’t watch.”
But I can’t look away. I feel like I owe it to them to remember what they went through so it fuels me to do what they couldn’t: escape.
There’s a flicker in the screen, like a skipping frame, and suddenly, crimson blooms across the woman’s abdomen.
Kaden remains stoic and hard beside me. Witnessing violence isn’t new to him, but his arm tightens around my shoulders. I squint at the screen where the flicker was, ignoring the bile rising in my throat as the scene plays out in nauseating detail.
There it is again.
A line of code, lasting barely a fraction of a second. My lips move silently, parsing the string of ones and zeros.
“Ethan,” I breathe, hope sparking in my chest.
Kaden squeezes my shoulder. “What is it?”
I keep my voice low, praying Cassie’s audio doesn’t pick it up over the din of anguished pleas. “He’s found a way into her system.”
“Can he shut it down?” Kaden asks, his breath warm against my ear.
I shake my head minutely. “He’s working on it. It’s the most sophisticated I’ve ever seen. But this is his way of telling us to be ready.”
On monitor #4, the woman's body goes limp, a final tear tracing down her ashen cheek. The father drops the scalpel, shaking so hard he can barely stand.
And the man holding his daughter slits her throat. She crumples to the ground at the same time her father’s agonized wail overtakes all the other screams.
“And then there was one,” Cassie purrs.
The monitors stutter, then die. Kaden pushes me behind him like they’re about to explode. But all of them plunge into black screens save for the one on the bottom right. The monitor that made me want to look harder.
Of course, Cassie doesn’t give me time to process just how small her snake-sized heart is before she moves on to her next atrocity.
The man has his back to the camera, and his shoulders are hunched. He hasn’t moved since I first looked at the screen. No one else is in the suite decorated in shades of blue and gold with plush curtains and a four-poster bed. At first, I thought that was why this particular screen grabbed me—this man is alone when all the other monitors had at least two people in the frame. But no, that’s not it. I’m sure his greatest fear is just waiting off-screen and will appear for Cassie’s entertainment soon.
The man lifts his head, his attention snapping to the door, and that’s when I figure out what drew my suspicion in the first place.
There’s no audio.
Then he turns.
His lanky frame twists reluctantly, his messy brown hair and nervous tics unmistakable.
“Ethan,” I whisper in sharp disbelief.
“She fucking caught him,” Kaden rasps. “But he just sent us a message. Cassie can’t be that fast?—”
“It was a recording.” I say what both of us are thinking with painful clarity. “And a trap.”
Ethan looks directly at the camera, our gazes locking through the lens. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, a gesture so familiar it makes my heart ache.
I shake my head in denial, unable to tear my eyes away from the screen.
Ethan is saying something, his lips moving rapidly, but we can’t hear him. He gestures to something off-camera, his movements frantic.
And then Cassie steps into the frame.
“Oh God.” My hand flies to my mouth.
She’s wearing her preferred leather catsuit that clings to her lithe frame, her raven hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. She circles Ethan like a shark, her fingers trailing across his shoulders.
Ethan grimaces at her touch, but he doesn't move away. His eyes dart to the camera again, pleading.
Cassie knows Ethan is my weakness, the one person other than Kaden I would do anything to protect. And now she has him.
A strangled sound escapes my lips. My legs give out, and Kaden’s arm is the only thing that keeps me from falling to the floor.
“We need to get to him,” I say, clinging to Kaden’s forearm. “We need to get out of here and get to him .”
My voice rises to a shriek, and I tear from Kaden’s hold and race to the door.
“Layla—” Kaden says, but nothing he does will be of any use unless he breaks this goddamn door.
“She can’t kill him.” I press my hands against the door, then start pounding on it. “She can’t kill him! Let me out! Let me out, goddammit!”
“Wraithling, please.” Kaden’s hands come down on my shoulders, pulling me away.
“I told you I'd find your pressure points, kitten,” Cassie says, her voice suddenly filling the room. “And look, isn’t this the perfect one?”
I spin to the monitors with heaving breaths.
Cassie’s smile is all sharp edges as she leans in close to Ethan, her lips moving with words we can’t hear. He tries to jerk away, but she digs her nails into his cheeks, forcing him to look at her.
My heart pounds against my ribs as I watch helplessly, my mind racing to find a way out of this godforsaken place.
Ethan's gaze flicks to the camera again, and this time, I spot the desperation in his eyes, the silent plea for us to understand. He's trying to tell me something, but what?
Cassie follows his line of sight. Her lips curve into a smirk as she steps behind Ethan and drapes her arms over his shoulders in a mockery of an embrace.
Ethan shudders, his Adam's apple bobbing. “Layla, don’t?—”
Cassie clamps a hand over his mouth. “Shh. It’s not your turn to speak.”
Rage boils under my skin at the way she touches him, the possessive gleam in her eyes. But it's the pure fear in Ethan's face that kills me and the knowledge that he's suffering because of my choices.
“Cassandra Grace Black ,” Kaden snaps. The threat of the impending doom in his tone even makes me stiff with apprehension.
He steps around me and prowls toward the monitors, his hands curled into pissed-off fists. “Get the fuck away from that boy and air your disagreements with me. No one else.”
Cassie reaches into the holster at her hip in answer and pulls out a gleaming knife, pressing the point under Ethan’s chin. He goes perfectly still, save for the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
“It's quite simple, really.” Cassie's tone is conversational as if she's not holding a blade to my best friend's neck. “You have a choice, kitten. Either you slice into Dad or I paint this room with your little hacker's blood.”
My heart stops. I can't breathe, can't think.
Kaden grabs me and pulls me in tight.
“Cut into me yourself,” he seethes. “Stop making others do your dirty work.”
A slow, wicked smile spreads across her face. “By the way, it’s Cassandra Morelli now.”
I feel more than see Kaden’s sharp intake of breath. His heartbeat thunders beneath my cheek.
“Morelli,” he repeats, the name dripping with venom. “You are not his daughter, Cassandra. You are mine. ”
Kaden’s fingers dig into my arms as if I’m the only thing keeping him tethered.
“That bastard stole you from me. Twisted you into this?—”
“Bitch?” Cassie finishes for him. “No, Daddy dearest. He made me strong. Powerful. He had fucked-up ways of getting me there, but here I am.”
“Morelli was a sadistic bastard who destroys everything he touches,” Kaden growls. “But even he can’t erase the truth of who you are, Cassie. Defiance is in your blood. My blood. You’re stronger than his depraved manipulations.”
If Cassie is affected by Kaden’s declaration, we don’t see it. She gives us her profile and traces the knife along Ethan's jawline, leaving a thin line of crimson in its wake. Ethan squeezes his eyes shut, a single tear escaping down his cheek.
“Cassie, please,” I beg, my lower lip trembling.
She presses the knife harder against Ethan's throat, eliciting a choked gasp from him. “Now, kitten is going to prove her loyalty. To me. To the Morelli name.”
Desperation and terror rip through me. I can’t hurt Kaden. I won’t. But Ethan … oh God, my sweet, brilliant friend who only ever wanted to keep me safe. I can’t let Ethan die.
“Clock's ticking, kitten. Either you make Daddy bleed or this room gets an instant makeover.”
Kaden's hand finds mine, his fingers lacing through my own.
“Layla,” he says softly. “It's okay. Do what you have to do.”
I shake my head, then bury my face in his chest. “I can't. I won't.”
He brings our joined hands closer to his heart. “You can, and you will.” Kaden uses his free hand to tip my chin up until our gazes meet. “I can take it, Wraithling. I promise.”
A sob catches in my throat. I know what he’s doing and why he’s accepting Cassie’s demands. My neck still throbs from the tattoo I received while being pinned down, and Kaden was forced to look on. I’d wager it was the first time in a very long time that Kaden felt helpless. To endure punishment, especially coming from me, is exactly the type of situation he feels he deserves because he couldn’t save me. His own flesh and blood has locked us in this room of horrors, and he still can’t save me.
But he is not the villain. Not in my story.
“Layla.” Kaden stops my line of thought as if he can sense my direction. “You know what you have to do.”
“You don’t deserve this.” I look back at him and into those coolblue eyes, finding the warm pools within. “I don’t blame you for any of this, do you understand?”
Kaden’s eyelids lower.
The sob I’ve been choking on finally climbs out. “Kaden, no. Even if I agree to this, there’s nothing here. This room is stripped of anything I could use.”
“That’s the fun part!”
Cassie’s unsettling cheer interrupts the moment.
“After all,” she continues, “necessity is the mother of invention.”
Not only do I have to hurt Kaden but I also have to find a makeshift weapon? Cassandra Grace Black, or whatever the hell her name is now, has backed me into a corner in the same way so many reluctant fathers were. And I feel the same way they did. I’m starting to hate her. To change who I am inside.
My gaze darts around the room, searching for anything I could use to inflict enough pain without causing lasting damage. The thought of harming Kaden makes me want to heave, but I can’t let Ethan die.
“The mirror,” Kaden says quietly, tilting his head toward the bathroom. “Break it.”
Understanding dawns, cold and heavy in my gut.
Reluctantly, Kaden releases his hold on me so I can approach the bathroom. Once inside, I stand in front of the mirror. My reflection stares back—pale, bruised, and haunted.
Until I zero in on the neck tattoo.
Pitch-black vines and thorns snake across my neck, growing wider in the front and thinning out at the sides, just like a slashed throat. No leaves adorn the barren limbs, and the vines stretch out into fractured pathways, some tangling low over my throat. But knowing what I do now about Cassie’s men and how she acquired most of them, Harris offered beauty where he could. Small black flowers along the thinner branches, using shading and lighting for wisps of fog, and the tiny wings of birds flitting among the thorns.
The inked skin is swollen and red at the edges and angry from not being cared for. The tattoo took endless hours of pain to become this creation. It also stole a piece of me I can never get back. I’ve always been different with my blue and brown eye, but this. This isn’t something I was born with. This was placed on me, forced on me, and is a permanent mark of hate.
It's not just the tattoo but everything it represents—the violation, the helplessness, and the sheer cruelty of what's been done to me and so many others.
My hands curl into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms. The pain is a distant thing, drowned out by the roaring in my ears. I'm shaking, my whole body trembling with a rage so intense that I can’t breathe.
With a scream that tears from the depths of my soul, I lash out, my fist connecting with the mirror in a blinding explosion of rage and glass. The surface shatters, radiating spiderwebbing cracks from the point of impact. Shards rain down, tinkling against the sink and floor like jagged diamonds.
I pluck the largest shard of glass from the spiderweb forming at the point of impact, ignoring the way it slices into my palm. Crimson drips down my wrist, staining the white porcelain sink.
Kaden appears in the doorway, his expression a mix of concern and grim understanding. He reaches for me, but I shake my head. As much as I long for his comfort and strength, I know I need to perform this next part on my own. He moves to the side so I can get through the doorway and stand in front of the monitors. Cassie is still there holding Ethan hostage, smiling. She’s enjoying this, the sick bitch. Enjoying watching me suffer.
Kaden comes up behind me, pushing my hair to the side and kissing the nape of my neck before coming to the front. He gives me a single, solemn nod before reaching for the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.
I’ve seen his hard, sinuous power and his map of scars many times before, but this time, I’m adding to it.
This is wrong. It goes against everything I believe in, everything I am.
“That’s it, kitten,” Cassie croons from the speakers. “Save your friend over your lover. And I don’t want a small scratch. I want you to dig in. Hurt him badly. I won’t be content until he’s on his knees.”
I don’t bother to look in her direction. Tears turn my vision hot. I whisper brokenly, “I don’t want to do this.”
Kaden's expression softens. He reaches out and tenderly brushes a strand of hair from my face, lingering on my cheek.
“You have to, Wraithling.” His low voice is steady and strangely calming. “It’s all right. I’ve endured far worse.”
A choked sob escapes me. I know he has. I've mapped every one of his scars with delicate strokes in stolen moments of intimacy. Each one represents the unspeakable acts he’s done. And still, he stands tall and proud.
“Look at me,” Kaden commands.
I drag my gaze to his, desperate to drown myself in his fathomless blue depths. There’s no fear there. Just something infinitely tender.
Something that looks a lot like love.
“You are not defined by the evil others do. This is not your choice,” he says.
Fresh tears spill down my cheeks at his words. Even now, even as I prepare to cut into his flesh, he seeks to absolve me. To shoulder the burden of this heinous act.
I press my free hand over his heart, feeling the steady thrum beneath my palm. “I will never forgive myself for this.”
“You will,” he vows. “Because I already have.”
Kaden covers my hand with his own, holding it fast against his chest. With his other hand, he reaches for the shard. His fingers close over mine, guiding the makeshift blade to hover over his skin.
“ Boring ,” Cassie whines. “I had a better time catching Reaper and putting her and her rodents in a cage. Can we move on?”
I suck in a deep breath at her intended meaning.
“You’re going after cat families now?” I ask, my voice not sounding like my own.
“There really is no line I won’t cross,” she replies. I can hear the dismissive shrug in her tone.
Rage and revulsion surge through my veins, warring with the agony of what I’m being forced to inflict.
With a trembling hand, I raise the shard, winking maliciously in the lamplight. Kaden doesn’t flinch as I hold it high. He doesn’t even look at it. He just stares into my eyes, injecting calm.
I bring the broken shard down with a small cry, slashing toward Kaden’s bare chest. Time slows as the sharp edge glints with silver.
But before the keen edge can find its mark, Kaden's hand flashes out, quick as a striking viper. His fingers close around my wrist in an unbreakable grip, halting the shard's deadly descent a hairbreadth from his skin.
I gasp at the suddenness of his movement and the sheer strength in his grasp.
Kaden wrenches the shard from my hand and pivots, hurling it with lethal precision at the monitor displaying Cassie and Ethan. The screen explodes in a dazzling cascade of sparks, a few shards of glass raining down like razor-sharp confetti. The feed cuts out with a harsh crackle of static, plunging the room into sudden, oppressive silence.
I stare at the ruined monitor, chest heaving.
My hand goes to my mouth.
I say to Kaden through the cracks of my fingers, my voice a wet whisper, “What have you done?”