Caged
1550 Words
The lights were gone.
Only darkness now…soft, silent, heavy.
When Elena woke, it wasn’t to chains or crowds or the sound of a gavel. It was to the faint hum of city life humming through glass walls, and the gentle pull of satin sheets that felt far too soft for someone who had been auctioned like a prize the night before.
For a heartbeat, she thought it had been a nightmare. A bad bad horrible nightmare,but she knew better.
Then she saw it, the metal cuff still clasped loosely around her wrist. A reminder. Not tight enough to hurt. Just there. A symbol. A claim…that he owned her now.
Her throat tightened. She sat up slowly, the oversized shirt she wore slipping off one shoulder. His shirt. Black and Soft. It smelled of him…clean smoke and something darker, dangerous. The scent that had already found its way under her skin.
Her dress from the night before was folded neatly on a chair, pressed and cleaned. The keys to the cuff laid on the bed side table and Beside it lay a note, scrawled in bold, sharp handwriting
“Breakfast at nine. Don’t test my patience. — D”
The arrogance of it made her want to scream,how dare he? Who does he think he is. Oh if only death hadn’t taken her papa,this devils spawn wouldn’t even grace her presence. Talk more of keeping her as his prize.
She tore the note in half. Then again. And again. Until it was nothing but paper confetti in her trembling hands.
She swung her legs out of bed and stood, the cold marble beneath her feet biting her skin. She walked until she found the dining area. And there he was. Dante Cross…his name tasted like metal on her tongue,like a forbidden word. Like cuss words on her tongue when she was a kid.
Sitting at the head of the long marble table, black shirt rolled to his elbows, sleeves revealing tattoos that crawled up his arms like smoke and fire,ending somewhere around his neck and chest where his shirt laid open,two or three buttons down.
He didn’t look up immediately. Just stirred his coffee, the silver spoon clinking softly against the porcelain.
“Sit,” he said…commanded.
One word.
She didn’t move,stubborn,unrelenting,defiant.
“I said sit, Elena.” He said again this time glancing at her before he continues his staring.
Her name in his mouth felt like a warning. Still, she lifted her chin, defiance flashing through her eyes. “I’m not hungry.”
Finally, he looked up. An exasperated sigh escaping his lips. She could see she was beginning to get to him. She was annoying him,and deliberately so.
His gaze was slow…causing a drag of heat that moved from her bare legs to her throat, pausing just long enough to make her skin prickle.
“Then sit anyway,” he said simply. “I don’t like repeating myself,Elena” there he went again,calling her name like that.
Something in the way he said it, the quiet danger threaded in every syllable made her legs move before her pride could stop them, and sat she did.
The silence between them was suffocating.
He took another sip of coffee. “You sleep well?”
“Go to hell.” She spat.
He smiled faintly, as if her defiance amused him more than it offended. “I probably already have a seat reserved, beside satan himself.”
Her jaw clenched. “What do you really want from me?”
He leaned back in his chair, studying her. “What every man wants, I suppose. Control. Obedience. A little honesty.”
“You won’t get any of those from me.”
“Good,” he said softly. “I like a challenge.”
The quiet hum of the city filled the pause that followed. She stabbed at her breakfast just to have something to do with her hands. He watched her with lazy interest, like a man who had all the time in the world.
Then, casually, he said, “You’ll be staying here until I decide otherwise. You don’t leave this apartment without my permission.”
Her fork clattered against the plate. “You can’t keep me here,caged like some lost bird you found.” Her voice reverberated with anger.
“I can,” he replied, unbothered. “And I will.”
She stood abruptly. “You think this is a game? You think you can just…”
He rose too, slowly and the air seemed to thicken. His build and presence alone was intimidating.
“I think,” he said, stepping closer until the space between them was a breath, “you forget that your father’s debts didn’t vanish with his corpse.”
Her breath hitched. There he goes hitting low below the belt where it hurts the most. Using her father’s debt against her again,when will it end?
He lowered his voice. “I paid for you, Elena. Fifty million dollars. You belong to me now. You don’t have to like it… you just have to accept it sweetie.”
Her hand twitched, the same instinct as before to slap him, to claw, to fight. To make him feel hurt even if it’s just a little,so he’d know or see a sliver of what she felt.
He saw it.
And smiled. “Don’t.”
That one word froze her.
“Why?” she hissed.
“Because I’d enjoy what comes after,but I don’t think you would.”
Her pulse stuttered violently. She hated him. She hated the way he could say something so cruel and make it sound like a promise.
“Enjoy your breakfast,” he murmured, brushing past her. “You’ll need your strength.”
When he left, she exhaled sharply, realizing she’d been holding her breath the entire time. Who is this man even? Who does he think he is?
Hours later, she tried every exit.
The elevator…locked.
The stairwell…sealed.
Even the windows…reinforced glass, unbreakable.
It was a goddamn prison. Beautiful. Expensive. Dead silent.
Her anger finally cracked into panic. She threw a vase, the shattering echoing through the penthouse like a gunshot. Her scream followed it, raw, helpless, swallowed by walls that didn’t care.
And then his voice. Calm. Low. From behind her.
“Feel better?”
She spun around. He was leaning against the doorway, hands in his pockets, eyes cold and amused.
“Go to hell,” she spat.
“I told you,” he said, stepping closer, “I already live there.”
Her throat tightened. “You can’t keep me…”
Dante closed the distance in two slow steps. “You keep saying that,” he murmured, “but you haven’t realized something yet.”
“What?”
His fingers brushed her jaw, a whisper of touch that sent sparks through her veins. “You don’t want to leave.”
She jerked back like he’d burned her. “You’re delusional.”
He smiled, faint and dangerous. “Delusional yes. But never wrong.”
And then he turned and walked away, leaving her furious, shaking, and terrifyingly aware of every place his skin had grazed hers.
Night fell.
She didn’t sleep. Couldn’t.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his eyes. Blue. Cold. Certain. And the worst part? she felt the truth of his words crawling under her skin.
Around midnight, she heard it a soft sound outside her door. Her body stiffened. Then the door creaked open.
He stepped inside. Barefoot. Shirtless. A shadow against the moonlight.
Her breath caught. “What are you doing here?”
He didn’t answer. Just walked to the balcony, sliding the glass door open, the wind spilling in.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said finally, voice low, rough around the edges. “Too many ghosts in this place,in my mind.”
She stayed by the bed,legs tucked under her chin with her arms wrapped around it, hesitant. He looked different in the pale light, softer, almost human…almost.
“Do you ever stop pretending to be a monster?” she asked quietly. She needed to know for real.
He glanced over his shoulder, lips curving. “You’d prefer the truth?”
“What truth?”
“That I don’t have to pretend.”
Her breath trembled.
He took a slow step toward her, stopping just close enough that she could feel the heat of him. His hand lifted, hovering near her cheek but not touching.
“You’ll learn, Elena,” he murmured. “Even cages can feel like silk… if you stop fighting them long enough.”
Her heart pounded so loud she could hear it. “I’ll never stop fighting.”
“Good,” he whispered. “Then I’ll never get bored.”
He turned and left the faintest trace of his scent lingering like smoke in the air.
When the door clicked shut, Elena pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm the wild rhythm beneath her skin.
But it was useless. Because for the first time since that cursed auction, she realized something that terrified her more than him.
She wasn’t just afraid of Dante Cross.
She was more afraid of herself.
Because some dark, broken part of her wanted to know what her surrendering to him would feel like.
- Writer
