Bound by Blood & Vows

(Liana’s POV) The first thing I noticed wasn’t the cage. It was the silence. Heavy. Clinical. Rich. The scent of tobacco, sandalwood, and something darker curled in the air — like dried roses left on a grave. I sat on the edge of a velvet chaise, wrists bound in front of me with silk rope. Not rough. Not metal. Luxury, not mercy. I knew I’d been bought. I just didn’t know the price. The door opened. He stepped in like he’d been carved out of dusk — tall, cold, and terrifyingly calm. His suit was jet black. So was his stare. “You’re awake,” he said. No introductions. No name. Just certainty. Like he already knew everything about me. I looked away. Didn’t speak. I couldn’t. Not because I was mute — But because silence was the only weapon I had left. He walked slowly. Deliberately. Each step meant to unnerve me. And it did. When he stood in front of me, he crouched low. Gloved fingers touched my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “I don’t like broken things,” he said softly. “But I like fixing them.” I flinched. His grip tightened. “You’re not here to speak. You’re here to obey.” My body trembled, but my eyes didn’t lower. Something flickered in his expression — approval or warning, I didn’t know. He stood again. “I’m Dante. You’ll learn to kneel when I walk in. You’ll learn to beg without words.” My heart thundered. He turned toward the door but paused. “And if you try to run,” he said without looking back, “I’ll break your legs. And still keep you.” The door clicked shut behind him. And I realized— This wasn’t a cage made of bars. This was a cage made of power. And I had just become his favorite possession.