Trapped in His Velvet Cage

Episode 10 – Brothers in Blood

The night air was thick with smoke and dust, the echo of the explosion still rattling in the ears of everyone gathered outside the convenience store. The crowd whispered, half-panicked, half-curious, as a black convoy of cars screeched to a halt across the lot.

Engines roared. Tires spun, kicking up a storm of grit and exhaust. Out of the lead car stepped a tall, broad-shouldered man with the kind of presence that swallowed the street whole. His suit was sharp, midnight black, his expression carved from granite.

Zayden Moretti.

Vincent’s elder brother.

He didn’t just walk—he strode, like a man who owned not just the ground beneath his boots but the air others breathed. Where Vincent’s danger simmered cold, Zayden’s burned hot, cruel, immediate.

Vincent was already there, framed in the haze, his men bristling behind him. He stared at the newcomer with a look that was half irritation, half anticipation.

“Should’ve known the blast was you,” Vincent muttered, voice low. “Always did like making an entrance.”

Zayden’s lips curled into a predator’s grin. “And you always did like making a mess I had to clean up.”

The crowd held its breath as the brothers faced each other—two wolves circling the same kill.

Vincent took a step forward, dust swirling around his shoes. “You don’t belong here, Zayden. This is my city.”

Zayden laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. “Your city? Funny, I heard you let Marco slip through your fingers for months. Heard you even let a little girl tie you in knots. That doesn’t sound like control to me, little brother.”

A muscle ticked in Vincent’s jaw. “Marco’s dead. And as for her…” His eyes flicked sideways, locking—inevitably—onto Elena, half-hidden in the crowd.

Elena froze. His gaze pinned her in place, sharp and merciless. She stepped back instinctively, her body screaming run. But before she could move, Vincent’s hand shot out of the dust, clamping around her wrist.

She turned in shock, trembling, eyes wide.

“Found you,” Vincent growled. His voice was harsh, unyielding. “No more running in this life.”

A single tear broke free, trailing down her cheek.

Vincent’s grip softened—not in kindness, but in certainty. He lifted her easily, cradling her in his arms like she weighed nothing, bridal-style. Her face was stone, eyes filled with hate and silent despair.

He carried her to the sleek car parked nearby, setting her gently inside. His words were calm, final. “Wait here. I’ll deal with him, then I’ll come for you.”

Elena didn’t answer. She only stared out the window, mind whirling. His brother? He has a brother?

Back in the center of the lot, Zayden had been watching. He raised an eyebrow, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“So… she’s the one.” His tone was mocking, but edged with curiosity.

Vincent straightened, his face unreadable. “Yes.”

The smirk deepened. “Huh. Never thought I’d see the day you actually admitted something like that. Always figured you’d die before letting a woman matter.”

Vincent’s voice was cold steel. “Maybe I found what you never could.”

Zayden chuckled, then let his words strike like daggers. “Or maybe you’re just weak. I always knew it, Vincent. You can’t run an empire when your heart’s a leash.”

Vincent stepped closer, a grin flashing briefly, sharp as broken glass. “Careful, brother. You’re not exactly young anymore. If you keep talking like that, no woman’s gonna want to touch you. You’ll end up old and bitter… and alone.”

The crowd tensed. Insults in the Moretti family were blood-deep.

Zayden’s jaw tightened, but instead of fury, his smile widened, cruel and dangerous. “Old? Look at me. I could steal half your women just by walking into a room. You—” he jabbed a finger toward Vincent’s chest—“you’re the one clinging to scraps, pretending it’s love.”

Vincent’s voice dropped to a razor whisper. “Say another word about her, and you’ll regret it.”

For a moment, they looked like boys again—brothers squaring off in a schoolyard fight, eyes blazing, neither willing to back down. But here, the schoolyard was a battlefield, and both carried the weight of blood on their hands.

The crowd barely breathed. Men from both sides had hands hovering over weapons, waiting.

Zayden leaned in, their foreheads almost touching. His tone was a hiss, quiet but venomous. “Don’t forget, little brother. I taught you everything you know. And if you’ve got the city now… it’s because I let you.”

Vincent’s grin flickered again, dangerous and amused. “Then maybe it’s time I showed you what the student can do to the master.”

The air between them crackled, thick with threat.

From the car, Elena watched, heart pounding. Dust swirled around the brothers, their voices sharp, their presence monstrous. She wanted to scream, to run, to disappear—but Vincent’s words echoed in her skull: No more running in this life.

Her throat tightened. For the first time, she wondered if her prison wasn’t Vincent alone… but the bloodline he came from.

The dust still hung in the air like smoke from a battlefield. Vincent stood, unflinching, his gaze flicking once toward the car where Elena sat, fragile as glass.

Zayden caught it. Of course he did. His smirk deepened, sharp as a blade.

“So this is what shakes the unshakable Vincent,” he drawled, voice low, laced with cruel amusement. “Not bullets. Not betrayal. A woman. You always were too human where it mattered least.”

Vincent’s stare hardened. “Careful, brother.”

But Zayden only chuckled, slow and regal, like a king mocking his court. He stepped closer, lowering his tone so only Vincent could catch the poison in it.

“I wonder…” Zayden murmured, eyes glinting, “is it strength… or weakness… to let someone slip past the armor we spent years building? Tell me, Vincent—when did you become the softer one of us?”

The words weren’t direct, but the sting was. Behind them lurked something unspoken: a bite of envy, twisted into disdain.

Vincent’s jaw clenched. Zayden’s laugh cut through the dust-choked air.

“Relax. I’ll leave your… precious treasure untouched. I’ve no interest in polishing what already belongs to another. When the time comes, I’ll choose something rarer. Something greater. You keep your jewel, brother. Just don’t lose it—because once it’s gone, I won’t bother helping you find it.”

The crowd bristled at his tone—half mocking, half regal decree. Vincent said nothing, only held Zayden’s gaze until the air itself seemed ready to split between them.

No one—not even Zayden—would take Elena from him.

But for the first time, Vincent felt the shadow of envy in his brother’s voice.