She's Human but Alpha Wants Her Back.

Chapter Seven

Rea's POV

The imposing brutes had me hauled away in a blink, as though I were no more than... dust. They had done just as Damien had ordered—with just a flick of his fingers—not out of the door and definitely not out of the building but in a metal cage tucked into a corner at the far end of his gym area.

I twisted while the men hauled me along, my weight resting helplessly in their strong hands, no restraints needed. My feet scraped into the ground. The place fell into a stunned silence, except for the clank of chains while I floated in the air and the sound of heavy boots on the floor.

I didn't speak a word, didn't beg, and didn't cry, not when I had a whole swarm of thoughts whirling in my head. I knew for a fact that crying was useless and screaming was stupid; there had to be some other way. But for now I got fit into Damien's order till I figure out another way out.

I caught Damien with the corner of my eye reclining into his chair, hands crossed like someone who already knew he owned the whole domain. Watching. Eyes warning, not comforting, and a body in a confident posture.

I couldn't bear it; I dragged my eyes away, forcing them to look elsewhere, anywhere but at him. There was no hope in the sight of him. His sight unravels me, reminding me who I was and where I was—the Darkclaw pack and the inevitable tragedy that looms ahead.

Approaching the towering steel cage at a far end of the building—a beautiful cage that promised elegance yet was cruel and unsettling. The iron bars glimmed gold, an accent that just caught the fluorescent lights inside like tiny petals. Thick metal held a strange, unsettling quality that made me wonder why he had it in such a place in the first place.

I mean, it looked less like a cage and more like a royal prison. He probably had prominent figures in mind when he built an iron vault like this because this didn't look like the kind of place the rest of the men outside stayed as well.

I had expected to be held up among the captives I saw outside. With this, I couldn't help but wonder if he had captives and cages situated in unexpected areas in his mansion.

We pulled up at the fine cage that just loomed above, with the kind of beauty that makes you want to settle in at least and makes you fear for your life at the same time. One of the men rushed and yanked the gates open after a single hard thud of the keys, the keys rattling violently under his grip before the gate was swung open.

In a blink of the moment, I was pushed in like I weighed nothing, and I fell in with a tumble, metal echoing through the empty space. The gates slammed shut behind me, locked before I could even catch my breath.

The men walked away, and I sat there like the slave girl I had become. Straddling on cold ground with my hands and legs bound to a strong chain. It stretched from the tip of my fingers to the end of my feet, giving just enough space to shift, but not so freely, each second a cruel reminder of how much trouble you and I had just signed up for.

Now the men were gone, leaving just the two of us in the space. He remained at the far end watching me with a ruthless focus—the kind predators give their prey.

I found myself staring back, unsure how to read the look in his eyes, yet unwilling to break first. My pulse quivered, blood rushed hot to my cheeks, and every nerve was taut with tension.

He easily had that effect on me with ease, fear, anticipation, and then... arousal. I didn't care.

Yet, awareness of what could happen next dug a painful hole in my chest. I wasn't sure I was ready, but I had to admit… it had a whole advantage too.

The closer he came, asserting his power, the closer I edged to what I had come for because I'd never stop trying to get into his heart. Since I could never steal a stem from him and escape, getting into his heart was the only way possible.

Damien looked up from across the room, a menacing expression on his face, one that said far too clearly how much he wasn't done with me. His eyes stayed unblinking, piercing straight through me.

When he finally turned away, my stomach dropped hard. I shuffled back towards the hidden corner of the cage to sleep, tired of staring helplessly at him.

A bed, a duvet, and a table were tucked into the right corner of the cage, forming a strangely cozy look. I wondered why it felt this small yet comfortably contained.

Hauling myself forward, chains creaking and echoing in the space, I collapsed onto the bed, letting myself sink in a way that didn't hurt, lying with hard metals biting into my skin, carefully not to jolt against the hard metal biting into my skin, and for a brief second, a tiny thread of relief washed over me.

The duvet was useless since I could no longer use my hands, thanks to the stupid chains.

I sank into the soft mattress draped with a soft plush bed cover, my eyes flickering wide around the room while my mind searched for a better way the next day would go.

The door slammed shut suddenly with a heavy bang that shook the walls like an earthquake, boots scraping the ground thereafter, and Damien was gone.

I peek through a small barred opening, my gaze landing on the minimalist clock, silently ticking by the wall.

12:35 a.m. glared at me like I owed it an apology.

Dad.

The first thing that came to my mind. I twisted to the other side of the bed uncomfortably, feeling the need to get up there and take control of my own situation for good.

The day that demanded urgency had passed, clocking into day two—the time to succumb to Damien's will, but not for too long.

I hadn't brought any strategy with me to his pack, but now, the only way to get out of here is to tame him. Be wild, and I'd be. Even if I don't know how. Even if taming him also meant taming a beast who could bite if you aren't careful enough.

The thoughts coursed through me until I spun out of the world. Hours ebbed away.

The sharp thuds of gloves smashing against a punching bag dragged me up from hours of deep, unguarded rest. I was human after all.

Sigh.

I stirred. Blinking slightly at lights cutting into my eyes after hours shut away in darkness.

I scurried up to straighten myself and realized that the cage had an opening to another space—a second area I hadn't noticed before now just beside the cage.

I walked slowly as curiosity drew me closer and was met by a magnificent, cozy, manor-like room designed in a way that fit a figure—a trainer.

Medals hung by the wall, a king-sized bed dominated the space, a seat was in the open foyer, and a gleaming hand-held gun lay on the massive mahogany desk, cigars were in a humidor, expensive liquor bottles lined the bar, a sculpture that spelled out "Remington," and a large portrait hung on the wall.

My breath caught sharp at the sight of the man in the portrait—he wore a light gray single-breasted suit jacket over a white shirt and a silver-toned tie. His body was so unreal, and his face... cute and... cruel.

Damien Remington.

The air around me suddenly felt hot and… suffocating. His personal gym pressed tight before me, and his room stared at me. I literally turn everywhere and see him there.

He had put me in a cage tucked between his personal gym and bedroom, in such a way that I could see everything happening in both spaces without having to step out.

Was this his punishment, wasn't it? Making me suffer with every deliberate glance while my heart twisted with fear and heat until I crumbled under him.

A deep voice echoed through the room, yelling something nearby, and attention was jolted to it.

As I spun towards the noise, there he was, at his personal gym, doing push-ups with a broad-shouldered trainer—hair shaved clean with mustaches and an athletic build.

Damien wore a gold compression shirt that clung to his rigid torso, stretching tight across his strong arms and legs as he pushed himself. I watched him bend on his hands, driving his weight into the floor, muscles stretching and compressing as he moved while the man yelled, counting.

"Eighty-six, eighty-seven. Common!"

Damien groaned, face tightening severely, hand balled on the ground as he swung himself determinedly.

I shifted between the iron bars, peering.

"Go common." The man clapped, hopping around him as he counted. "Ninety-seven. Ninety-eight, mighty nine hundred." He kicked a bottle on the floor in a rush and helped Damjen on his feet.

I stared wide-eyed.

Man gave him a shake, and they both gulped water down their throats like a fire being extinguished on a burning surface. Afterwards, they chattered briefly before the man grabbed his bag and left with a smile.

Slowly, Damien turned to meet my gaze, and I shivered, caught off guard by the sudden intensity. I yanked my gaze away, but it betrayed me—I couldn't help but notice the shape of his d**k pressed visibly against the tight, stretchy fabric, revealing a huge, unapologetic bulge that drew a gasp from me.

I averted my gaze to the floor, pretending I hadn't seen anything, while my heart raced.

He placed the bottle down and walked towards me slowly and deliberately. His eyes unblinking and sweat tracing a hot line across his taut chest, his expression unreadable. Predatory, calm.

I froze, fear curling tight in my guts at the authority carried in every step. I wasn't sure I was ready to face him yet. Don't know what I'd do when he reached me.