Chapter Two: The Cage
877 Words
The car slowed, then stopped, and silence filled the air heavier than the smoke lingering inside. I forced myself to breathe as the gates swung open, tall iron bars groaning as though warning me to turn back.
Beyond them stretched a long driveway, flanked by rows of trees trimmed to perfection, stripped of anything wild. At the end of it, the mansion rose, pale stone and black windows, a fortress that looked more like a tomb than a home.
My hands clenched into fists. My body trembled, but I forced my chin high. I would not let them see me as broken.
The door opened, cold night air brushing my skin. I stepped out, and that was when I saw him.
Luca.
He stood at the top of the marble steps, tall and still, a faint ember glowing from the cigarette between his fingers. The night bent toward him, as if even the air obeyed. His gaze was sharp, cutting, and when it locked on me, I felt something deep inside twist.
He didn’t see me. Not really. He saw a debt. A payment. A burden.
My breath caught when he flicked the cigarette away and turned, walking inside without a word. The guards nudged me forward.
The cage had closed.
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Luca – POV
I should have refused.
Her father was pathetic, groveling, offering his daughter like she was nothing. I’d turned down trades like that before. Women weren’t currency, not to me. But when her name slipped from his lips—Isabella Cruz—I had hesitated.
Because it reminded me of another name.
Cassandra.
The one I had loved. The one who had burned me. The one I could never erase.
And now this girl stood trembling at the foot of my stairs, fire in her eyes despite the fear in her body. That fire… it was familiar. Too familiar.
I told myself she was only here to settle a debt. Nothing more. But even as she climbed the steps, chin lifted in defiance, I knew the truth.
She was a test. A temptation. A flame.
And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to snuff her out—
Or let her burn me.
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The doors closed behind them with a weight that echoed through the hall. Isabella’s footsteps clicked against marble as she followed the guards deeper into the house. Chandeliers spilled light across the room, making the shadows sharper. Paintings of nameless ancestors loomed from the walls, their dark eyes seeming to watch.
A guard reached for the stairs, but Luca’s voice stopped him.
“No. East wing.”
The man froze, then nodded quickly. Isabella’s eyes flicked toward Luca, but his face gave nothing away.
The east wing was colder, quieter, the walls lined with doors she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to open. At the end of the corridor, the guard pushed open a heavy wooden door.
The room was beautiful—lavish, suffocatingly so. A canopy bed dressed in black silk. A vanity with a mirror that reflected every detail too clearly. Velvet curtains sealing out the night. It wasn’t comfort. It was a prison dressed in gold.
“This is your room,” the guard said. “Do not leave without permission.”
The lock clicked shut as he left.
Isabella stood frozen in the silence, her pulse a drum in her ears. Her knees wanted to give out, her throat burned with unshed tears, but she bit them back.
She wouldn’t break.
Not here. Not for him.
She sat on the edge of the bed, hands trembling in her lap. Betrayal stung sharper than fear. Her father hadn’t fought. He hadn’t begged. He had handed her over without a glance.
The door opened suddenly.
She shot to her feet, heart slamming against her ribs. Luca stepped inside, closing the door with deliberate slowness. The room shrank around him, his presence filling every corner, every breath of air.
He studied her in silence, as though weighing her worth like a jewel he wasn’t sure was real.
“You’ll stay here,” he said finally, voice low, steady, a command disguised as words. “You’ll eat, you’ll sleep, you’ll breathe when I allow it.”
Her nails dug into her palms. “I’m not your possession.”
The corner of his mouth twitched—not a smile, but something darker. He stepped closer, slow, deliberate, until she had to tilt her head to keep his gaze.
“No?” His voice was soft, dangerous. “Your father thought otherwise. He signed you away with his own hand. You belong to me now.”
Her throat tightened, but she didn’t look away. If she bowed her head now, she’d never raise it again.
Luca leaned closer, his breath brushing her ear, his words burning into her skin.
“You’ll learn, Isabella. Everything breaks eventually.”
He straightened, his eyes lingering on her for one last, unreadable moment before he turned and left. The lock clicked behind him.
She stood frozen, trembling, her heart pounding against the cage of her ribs. Fear clawed at her, but beneath it something else sparked—something sharp, stubborn, dangerous.
She whispered into the silence, a promise only she could hear.
“Not me.”
- Writer
