The Blood Rescue

🩸 CHAPTER 6: THE SILK CAGE

The heavy oak door of my new bedroom shut with a click that sounded

exactly like a cell door locking.

I collapsed against the wood, sliding down until my knees hit the

thick, plush rug. The silk of my ruby-red dress swished against my

legs, a constant, irritating reminder of the luxury Jax was using to

smother me. My breath came in shallow, jagged gasps. The scent of the

foyer—the suffocating mix of raw Alpha aggression, fear, and Viktor’s

spilled blood—seemed to have clung to my skin, refusing to let me go.

I looked around the room. It was larger than my entire apartment down

by the docks. There was a king-sized bed draped in black velvet, a

private marble bathroom, and an exquisite vintage vanity table. But

when I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, my hope died.

The view overlooked the sprawling neon grid of the city, but directly

below the glass was a fifteen-foot stone wall topped with razor wire.

Two-armed Bratva guards patrolled the perimeter with attack dogs.

I was safe from the rival syndicates, sure. But I was entirely a

prisoner to Jax Volkov.

"I can't stay here," I whispered, my fingers pressing against the cold

glass. "I won't let him turn me into a breeding doll for his pack."

A soft, rhythmic knocking on my bedroom door made me leap backward, my

defensive instincts instantly flaring. I grabbed a heavy crystal

perfume bottle from the vanity table, holding it tight against my

chest like a pathetic weapon.

"Who is it?" I called out, trying to keep my voice from cracking.

"Housekeeping, miss. I brought some fresh water and a change of

comfortable clothes," a soft, timid voice replied through the thick

wood.

I hesitated, lowering the bottle slightly. "Come in."

The door pushed open, and a young woman stepped inside. She couldn't

have been older than twenty-two, with matted blonde hair pulled back

into a messy bun and a plain, oversized grey uniform that marked her

as a low-level estate servant. Her scent was flat and muted—a Beta,

just like I used to pretend to be. She kept her head down, her eyes

glued to the floor as she carried a silver tray containing a crystal

pitcher of ice water and a neatly folded stack of black silk pyjamas.

She walked over to the nightstand, her hands shaking slightly as she

set the tray down.

"Jax told everyone he'd skin us alive if we made a mistake around

you," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "The whole staff is

terrified."

"You don't need to be afraid of me," I said gently, setting the

perfume bottle back on the vanity. I stepped closer to her, desperate

for any human connection that didn't involve an Alpha trying to

dominate me. "What's your name?"

"Elena," she whispered, finally lifting her head. Her eyes were a

striking, intelligent green, but there was a fierce, guarded look in

them that didn't match her submissive uniform. She glanced nervously

toward the door, then back to me.

She stepped closer, dropping her voice until it was practically a

breath in the air. "I know who you are, Eva. Or rather... I know what

you are."

My body went rigid. "Did Ilya tell you?"

"No," Elena said, shaking her head quickly. She reached into the

pocket of her oversized apron, her fingers wrapping around something

small. "My brother works the security monitors in the lower levels. We

saw what happened to Captain Viktor. We know the Pakman is claiming

you to secure his bloodline. But we also know that an Omega trapped in

this house never leaves it alive once the rival packs find out."

"I don't want to be here," I said fiercely, gripping her arm. "Elena,

please. You have to help me. If I can just get a message out to the

docks, to my landlord, or to anyone who can help me disappear—"

"Shh," Elena hissed, placing a finger over her lips. She looked at the

ceiling, pointing toward a tiny, blinking red light hidden inside the

elaborate crown melding. A camera.

My stomach dropped. Jax was watching me.

Elena didn't say another word. Instead, she took my hand, pressing a

small, cold object into my palm. She squeezed my fingers shut over it,

giving me a meaningful, intense look.

"The clothes are fresh, miss," Elena said loudly, reverting instantly

back to her timid, professional servant persona. "Let me know if you

need anything else."

She bowed her head, picked up her empty silver tray, and quickly

exited the room, locking the door behind her once more.

I waited until her footsteps faded down the hallway before I turned my

back to the hidden camera. I walked over to the bed, shielding my

hands with my body as I slowly opened my palm.

Resting in my hand was a burner phone.

It was cheap, plastic, and completely untraceable. The screen

flickered to life, showing full battery bars and a single pre-saved

contact under the name 'Ghost'.

My heart hammered against my ribs. A communication device. A literal

lifeline to the outside world. I could call the police—though in this

city, Jax owned half the police force anyway. I could call a

black-market smuggler to get me a fake ID and a ticket out of the

country.

Before I could even press the contact button, the phone vibrated in my

hand, a text message popping up on the screen from the hidden number.

Hide the phone under the mattress. Don't call anyone yet. Viktor is

recovering, and he wants a meeting. If you want your freedom, you will

help us bring Jax down.

I stared at the glowing screen, my breath catching in my throat. Elena

wasn't a sympathetic ally. She was a spy. She was working for Captain

Viktor—the brutal Alpha Jax had just mutilated in the foyer. They

wanted to use me as bait to assassinate the Pakman.

Suddenly, the heavy click of the master lock echoed through the room.

Panic seized me. I shoved the burner phone deep under the black velvet

mattress, smoothing out the sheets just as the heavy oak door swung

wide open.

Jax stood in the doorway. He had discarded his suit jacket, his white

dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his dark hair slightly

dishevelled. He looked tired, but the moment his amber eyes locked

onto me, the exhaustion vanished, replaced by that terrifying,

possessive intensity.

He walked into the room, his cane clicking against the floor, his eyes

sweeping over my flushed face and my breathing, which was far too fast

to be normal.

"You look guilty, little bird," Jax murmured, stopping just inches

from me, his scent of cedar and smoke instantly filling my lungs. He

leaned down, his eyes dropping to the edge of the bed where I was

standing. "What are you hiding from me?"