15. Kaden
15
KADEN
This is the first time I’ve heard Layla’s voice go hoarse with betrayal, and I don’t enjoy it.
I’ve heard that tone before, all the way from marks begging for their miserable lives to Layla writhing naked underneath me, upset that I took my fingers and tongue away at a crucial moment.
But never like this. Like I fucking failed her.
I stare at Layla, at the hurt etched into her pretty face. It's a terrible sight, and it cuts me deep, knowing I'm the one who put it there. Goddammit, I’ve never seen a more spectacular disaster in all my fucked-up life.
“You just killed Ethan!” she cries, pointing at the ruined monitor, sparks dancing at my feet.
“Wraithling.” My voice comes out low, reminding her not to lose it right now.
“What did you do, Kaden? What did you fucking do ? Cassie will be furious with us, and she’ll take it out on Ethan. And now I can’t even see—I can’t try to protect him. You’ve taken away the one thing we had?—”
“Look at me,” I order, but Layla just turns away, disgusted.
This woman will be the death of me. I crave her attention like my next breath, especially in this environment. It’s desperate and essential. It drives me insane that she’s turned her back on me.
Every instinct in me screams to close the distance between us. To claim her again, to remind her that she belongs to me in every way imaginable. But I hold back. Because as much as I want her, I don't want to hurt her more.
But having had enough of the silent treatment, I dart my hand out, catching her chin and forcing those beautiful tear-streaked eyes to meet mine. The icy touch of her skin sends an electric jolt through me that I relish—because it's real, because it's her, and she’s alive.
I’m not one to comfort, but for Layla, I bend my fucking rules.
“I wasn’t about to let you change,” I murmur, forcing her chin up higher so she has no choice but to keep her stare steady on mine. “I’ve seen what this life does to people, and so have you. The choices we make, the lines we cross, it transforms us, hardens us. It turns us into something we never wanted to be.”
My grip on her chin softens, my thumb grazing the delicate line of her jaw.
“When Cassie made you choose between hurting me or losing Ethan, I saw that same shade of darkness begin to consume you. So I couldn’t let you do it.”
Layla's brows come together, tears clinging to her lashes. “I didn’t ask you to risk Ethan’s life like that.”
“I will not let you become like us. Like me. Like Cassie,” I growl, the words tearing from my throat like the shards of glass splayed across the floor. “It would have broken something inside you to hurt me, even to save Ethan. And I couldn't bear to watch that happen.”
Layla's lips part, a shaky breath escaping as she processes my words. “But Ethan... Cassie will...”
“She won't kill him,” I assure her, my thumb brushing over her trembling bottom lip. “Not now, at least. She wanted us to watch, to see you relent. But now that the monitor's gone, she has no audience. It buys us time.”
Layla's eyes flutter closed, a single tear trailing down her cheek. I catch it with my thumb, wiping it away with a gentleness that still feels foreign to me.
“If anyone knows my daughter best, it’s me,” I add. “Though she may argue otherwise.”
Layla leans into my touch, her skin warm and inviting against my battle-scarred hand.
She whispers, “I don't know how to do this, how to survive this without losing myself.”
I tilt her face up, our noses brushing as I bring us closer together. “You won't lose yourself. I won't let that happen. We'll find a way out of this, and when we do, I promise you'll still be the same stubborn, infuriating, beautiful woman who captured my black heart.”
A watery laugh escapes her, and she nods, her nose brushing against mine.
“Okay,” she breathes, her hands coming up to grip my wrists. “Okay. We'll find a way.”
I lose the barest distance between our lips and capture hers in a kiss that says everything I can’t vocalize. Layla releases my wrists and tangles her fingers in my hair as she pulls me as close as humanly possible, our bodies molding together like two halves from a severed whole. I’m crushing her body against mine as if I could absorb her light through sheer force of will.
After pulling away slightly, I stroke her hair before guiding her head to my chest. The beat of my heart syncs with hers as I wrap an arm around her waist possessively.
“What about Ethan?” she asks with such desperation, it makes me want to tear the world apart just to ease her pain.
“I have it under control,” I assure her, and for the first time, I realize I mean it.
Not just for Layla’s sake but for mine as well.
My daughter’s next move will be to burst in here with Ethan, furious with us for not ceding to her control. And I will meet her madness with my darkness. It’s high time I face her not as her father but as her equal.
With my free hand, I trail my fingers down Layla’s arm, sending a shiver coursing through her body. Her breath hitches, and I find myself grinning at the effect I have on her.
It might be the last time I do.
I trace my fingers along the delicate curve of her neck, relishing the way her pulse quickens under my touch. She arches into me, a soft moan escaping her parted lips as I dip my head to press a kiss to the hollow of her throat.
Just as I reach up to massage the back of her neck to further soothe her, the door to the suite slams open with a resounding bang.
Layla tenses in my arms, both of our heads turning to find Cassie standing in the doorway with a deep frown on her bright red lips.
“You motherfuckers,” she spits, dragging a bloodied and bruised Ethan into the room by the collar of his shirt.
A desperate sound comes from Layla. She tries to lurch forward, but I keep her locked within the safety of my embrace.
“It’s okay, Layla,” Ethan says through a split lip and broken teeth. “I’m okay.”
A rock forms in my throat as Layla chokes back a sob.
This kid has been beaten to hell while facing down a psychopath, and his first instinct is to comfort my woman. My chest constricts, the foreign sensation of guilt eating away at my battered soul.
Cassie's eyes narrow dangerously as she takes in the sight of Layla and I, still wrapped in each other's arms despite the chaos she's unleashed. Her grip on Ethan's collar tightens, causing him to wince.
“Well, isn't this cozy,” she says. “I go through all the trouble of arranging this little reunion, and you two are still making googly eyes at each other like a couple of lovesick swans. It's almost enough to make me gag.”
She tosses Ethan to the floor, his body hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Layla tries to break free again, but I hold her fast.
“Cassie, please,” Layla begs, her nails digging into my biceps. “You’ve made your point.”
Cassie scoffs. “I’m nowhere near my point, kitten.”
She crouches down next to Ethan, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back. He groans in pain, his one good eye struggling to focus. Cassie must have gone berserk on Ethan the minute I smashed the monitor, and that ugly feeling of guilt in my stomach won’t go away.
“I almost feel sorry for you,” Cassie says to Ethan. “Caught in the middle of this family drama. But then I remember how eagerly you jumped in to protect poor Layla over there, and my sympathy for you just … evaporates.”
She releases his hair with a shove, rising to her feet and turning her attention back to us. “I have to admit, I'm impressed. I thought for sure my stunt with Ethan would be the final straw. That Layla would finally see you for the monster you are, choose Ethan, and turn her back on you for good.”
Layla's jaw clenches, her eyes blazing with barely contained fury. “No matter what you do, I will never turn on him.”
“Oh, spare me,” Cassie groans. “Bonds are made to be broken, just like bones. Why don’t you take a seat at the table, Ethan?”
When he doesn't move fast enough, Cassie kicks him in the ribs. The sight makes Layla jerk against me.
I adjust my grip, sliding my hand to her hip in a way that appears possessive but actually pins her in place. My daughter's eyes track the movement. Something ripples across her face—disgust? Envy?—before that broken-doll smile returns.
Ethan pushes himself up on shaky arms. Blood drips steadily from his nose, staining his torn shirt.
“Good boy,” Cassie purrs.
I watch how she positions herself, with one hand still gripping the hair at the back of his head and the other pressed between his shoulder blades.
Not the most efficient way to control someone. Morelli taught her strength when he should have taught her precision. Ethan stumbles but catches himself on the table's edge. Blood drips from his split lip onto the polished wood as Cassie forces him into the chair where Layla was forced to sit during our “romantic dinner.”
“Hands on the table where Daddy can see them,” she orders Ethan.
I continue to observe her technique with the Scythe’s clinical detachment. Every move betrays Morelli's influence: all brutality and no finesse.
The way Cassie digs her nails into Ethan's wrist as she forces his hand flat against the wood, how she positions herself to loom over him rather than maintain proper supervision.
Cassie's fingers freeze over Ethan's hand. She tilts her head. “What was that, Daddy?”
“The angle's wrong,” I explain, studying her grip with the same cold calculation I used on targets. “Morelli taught you to maximize pain. But pain without purpose is just ... messy.”
Her eyes light up with manic curiosity. “And you'd know all about purpose, wouldn't you?” She shifts her grip, mimicking my tone. “Tell me then, what would you have taught your little girl?”
Layla's breath catches as she realizes what I'm doing—meeting Cassie's madness not as a father trying to save his daughter, but as someone who understands the artistry of breaking people.
“The wrist first,” I say softly. “Control comes from immobilization.”
Ethan raises his head, his good eye meeting mine, the betrayal in it cutting deeper than I expected. All that time we spent working together to find Layla, and now I'm teaching my psychotic daughter how to torture him properly.
Layla tips her head back, her lips parting.
“Kaden, don't.”
Her tone carries more disappointment than fear.
The weight of their judgment should crush me. Instead, it crystallizes everything. They don't understand. To save them both, I need to become what I've always been. What made me the Scythe. What kept me alive while hunting for my daughter all those years.
“The wrist is boring,” Cassie says, forcing Ethan's right hand flat against the polished wood.
Sweat beads on his forehead when he turns his attention back to her. His chest spasms with shallow breaths.
“I’ll do what you want,” he says, trying to reason with Cassie. “I’ll help you, like you asked. I’ll fix the AI, just don’t—I need my fingers.”
Layla gasps at the same time I stiffen. The stolen AI, the Oracle, has never been at the top of my priorities, but it was Layla’s. She tried so hard to destroy it before it got into Morelli’s hands. Instead, Morelli is dead and the Oracle’s remnants are now in Cassie’s hands, my daughter turned Mafia princess.
“Funny how quick you are to help now,” Cassie says to Ethan, her eyes bright with that fractured intelligence that makes her dangerous. “When I asked you before—so nicely—you said the code was too corrupt after Layla tinkered with it. That Oracle couldn't be salvaged.” She traces the top of Ethan's finger almost tenderly. “Your code was clever,” Cassie says, reaching Ethan’s wrist and pressing into the tender underside. He presses his lips together, pushing fresh blood out of the cuts. “Routing through dead servers, mimicking old security protocols. But you got sloppy when you found the surveillance feeds. Too eager to help Daddy and his little kitten.” She tilts her head. “All I had to do was follow your digital footprints right to that color-vomit basement. Though I have to admit”—Cassie’s eyes glitter with that fractured light—”watching you try to fight back was almost cute. Like a mouse wiggling around in a trap.”
Ethan tries to steady his breathing as blood drips down his chin. The betrayal in his eye when he looks at me deepens.
Cassie’s lips curve. “So keep your noble refusal, Ethan. You're more useful as a lesson now.”
Ethan pales. “Miss Black, please …”
My arms tighten around Layla, no longer just to keep her safe but to show Cassie exactly what I'm capable of when someone threatens what's mine. Time to let my daughter see that Morelli's education was remedial compared to what her real father could have taught her.
“The problem with Papa Morelli,” I cut in just as Cassie is poised to wrench Ethan’s index finger backward, “was that he relied too heavily on physical pain. Amateur stuff, really. Breaking fingers?” I let out a dark laugh. “I would have taught you how to break minds first. Bodies are just collateral damage.”
Layla tries to rip out of my hold, but I continue, my eyes locked on my daughter while dropping my arms from around Layla. “Want me to show you how it's done? How to really make someone suffer without leaving a single mark?”
The perfect predator's smile spreads across my face as I add, “After all, you got your talent for psychological warfare from somewhere. And it wasn't Morelli.”
“You think you know better?” Cassie asks me, amused.
Challenge lights her eyes. That same manic gleam I've seen reflected back at me in the mirror after I finish my kills.
“Year one with Papa”— crack. Ethan howls—”is when I learned that screaming only makes it worse.”
Ethan’s index finger flops to the table, still attached, but the bone’s fractured. He sobs, attempting to pull his arm out from Cassie’s grip, but unable to.
I fear I’m at the point when I have to physically intervene. I don’t want to lay hands on my daughter, but I have to stop this before Cassie pushes both Layla and Ethan beyond repair. But as I open my mouth, Cassie's head snaps up, her eyes locking with mine as she makes her next move.
Crack. Ethan’s howl turns into a shriek. “Year two is when I started believing maybe he was right about my father not wanting me.”
Layla sprints from behind me, throwing her arms around Ethan and sobbing her apologies in his ear.
“Aw,” Cassie mocks as she watches Layla hug Ethan. After taking in the desperate scene, Cassie focuses on Ethan’s ashen face, saying through a pretend frown, “Don’t worry, baby. Only eight more years to go.”
I brace my feet, noting Cassie’s men filtering in. Five of her foot soldiers have positioned themselves around the suite to defend Cassie if need be. Their devotion to Frank Morelli extends to her, and if it were any other universe, I’d be grateful my daughter had so much protection.
But what she endured to require these bodyguards…
I see it now, the cracks in her fragmented psyche. Morelli twisted her understanding of my love for her until it lost all meaning.
I briefly close my eyes and take a breath.
This is where I’m in my element—controlling and dominating others. It’s what I do best, instilling fear while keeping them inexplicably drawn to me. It’s beguiling. Addictive, even.
My eyes snap open just as Cassie prepares to snap Ethan's third finger.
I take a step forward. Cassie's men tense but don’t engage.
“Morelli manipulated you through pain, Cassie,” I say evenly, holding her wild gaze. “He systematically erased all evidence of my search for you and replaced it with his carefully crafted lies.”
“Liar!” she shrieks, slamming Ethan's hand against the table. He cries out, Layla's sobs muffled against his neck.
“Deep down, a part of you knows the truth,” I counter, taking another step. “A part of you remembers what it felt like to be loved unconditionally before Morelli poisoned your mind.”
Cassie’s nostrils flare, teetering on a knife’s tip between her conditioning and the faint whisper of truth.
I fly across the room. Cassie doesn't even register my presence until my hand wraps around her slender wrist in an iron grip, halting her assault on Ethan.
“You're getting ahead of yourself, little one,” I murmur.
I whip my head around and tsk when her men inch closer, weapons raised. “You boys know better than to piss me off. Aim those bullets at anyone in the room but yourself, and I’ll kill your princess right here and now.”
Layla lifts her head, her face going white with horror.
Cassie’s eyes flare with indignation as she tries to yank her arm free from my hold, but her laugh belies her desire to escape.
“There he is! The real Kaden Black. Not the one who plays house with a bunch of kittens, but the one who'd snap his own daughter's neck.”
My grip tightens on her wrist—not enough to hurt, but to command attention. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be standing.”
Her soldiers don't lower their weapons, but they don't advance either. They're waiting for her signal, which means...
“You orchestrated this.” The realization hits as I study her face, that perfect blend of my calculation and Morelli's chaos. “Every move was designed to force my hand.”
“Did you think I didn't notice?” Cassie says in answer. She tries to twist away again, but I hold firm. “How gentle you are with her? How you protect her?” The last word comes out like venom. “I had to know if you'd do it for me. If you'd become the Scythe to save your daughter.” Her smile slices through me. “But you only break for her, don't you?”
My grip gentles on her wrist, but I don't release her. Not yet. “You're right. I would become an evil incarnate to protect what's mine.” I lean closer, pitching my voice for her ears only. “But Cassie-girl, you've been mine since the day you were born.”
She tries to jerk back, that triumphant smile faltering. “You’re full of shit. You never?—”
“I hunted Morelli through three continents.” Each word carries the weight of ten years. “Left pieces of his organization scattered across twelve countries. The things I did to find you...” I pause to let her see the darkness in my eyes. “They would make even you shudder with revulsion.”
Her foot soldiers shift uneasily.
“Let go of me,” Cassie hisses through gritted teeth.
I ignore her demand. “You want to break Ethan, don't you? Really make him suffer.”
Cassie stills, her curiosity piqued despite herself. “I'm listening.”
I release her wrist and step back, circling the table and taking my time doing it. My path has been a dark one. I've killed. I've lied. I've deceived. But it's all been for her—Cassie. My daughter. My first obsession before Layla.
I’m not Second Lieutenant Kaden Black anymore. I haven’t been for a very long time. At first sight of Cassie alive, I immediately flipped back to that man, the devoted father, the man who retired early so he could be there for his daughter as she first entered high school. It’s taken me too long to realize that isn’t who Cassie needed or wanted. Not anymore, because she’s not the little girl I once knew. Not even close. Cassie wants the Scythe, the man whose skin I’m comfortable in, and I shouldn’t have shed it in the first place. Not if I want to get through to her.
Ethan’s labored breathing fills the room. He refuses to raise his head. Layla’s muffled sobs make me clench my teeth, but I forge on.
“Physical pain is fleeting,” I explain, my voice taking on a clinical detachment. “It's the anticipation, the fear of what's to come, that truly shatters a person's will. You want to get inside his head, make him question everything he thought he knew.”
Cassie's eyes gleam with a twisted sort of fascination as she watches me, her anger momentarily forgotten. “And how do you suggest I do that?”
I pause behind Ethan's chair, my hands coming to rest on his trembling shoulders. He flinches at my touch. “Get the fuck off me.”
“Exploit his weakness,” I say, my fingers digging into Ethan’s flesh. “Find the cracks in his armor and pry them open, one by one, until nothing is left but frayed, exposed nerves.”
Layla glares at me through shining, bloodshot eyes. “Kaden, stop it.”
I keep my eyes level on Cassie’s even as my heart spasms at Layla’s anguish in my periphery. “I’ve spent a decade looking for my daughter, and I’ve finally found you, Cass. I can’t let you go this time, and I certainly can’t hurt you. If I’m faced between Ethan and you … I choose you.”
Cassie's lips curve into a slow, wicked grin.
“ What? ” Layla’s blue eye seems to go as dark as her brown one when I finally look her way. “You can’t mean that. There has to be another way. I’ll never forgive you for hurting Ethan. Do you understand me, Scythe? I will never. Forgive.”
Turning back to Cassie, I nod toward Ethan. “He cares for Layla, that much is obvious.”
Cassie’s attention darts between Ethan, Layla, and me, intrigue mingling with delight. Her hand hovers near Ethan’s remaining fingers in his right hand, poised to inflict more pain if the whim strikes.
I watch her unflinchingly, silently daring her to make the next move—one that would shape not just this moment but our entire future.
Blood drips from Ethan’s split lip onto the carpet, each droplet marking time like a morbid metronome. Layla’s on her knees beside him, refusing to let go. I’m well aware she’s ready to dive in front of Ethan and sacrifice herself depending on what comes next.
In fact, I’m counting on it.