Trapped in His Velvet Cage

Episode 14 : Chains and Choices

The wheels of Vincent’s car screeched against the hospital’s pavement. Before the nurses could react, he was already storming through the emergency doors with Elena limp in his arms, her blood soaking through his white shirt. His jaw was clenched, his face carved in stone, but his eyes—those eyes were burning with panic.

“Help her!” His voice thundered through the corridors. “If she dies, every last one of you dies with her.”

Doctors rushed forward, pulling Elena from his arms. Her head lolled to the side, lips pale, chest barely rising. A nurse blocked Vincent at the operation room doors.

“You can’t enter, sir.”

Vincent’s hand shot forward, gripping the wall so hard it cracked. “Move.”

Another doctor spoke quickly, terrified: “Sir, please—let us work. If you go in, she won’t survive the night.”

His teeth ground together. For a moment, it looked like he would break down the door anyway. But then, with a guttural growl, he backed away, fists trembling.

The minutes bled into hours. Vincent stood like a statue in the waiting hall, his shirt stiff with her dried blood. Everyone in the hospital avoided his gaze.

And then—footsteps echoed.

“Well, well.” The mocking voice sliced through the silence. “So this is what Vincent looks like when he’s afraid.”

Vincent’s head snapped to the side. Zayden strolled in, hands casually in his pockets, his tall frame radiating arrogance. His smirk widened.

“Carrying a woman into a hospital like some desperate lover? Tell me, little brother, when did you start bleeding for someone else’s wounds?”

Vincent’s glare was sharp enough to kill. “Leave, Zayden.”

But Zayden only chuckled. “Not until I enjoy this moment. The infamous Vincent, brought to his knees by a girl. What would Father say, hm?”

Vincent’s jaw ticked. He turned away, staring at the closed surgery doors.

Zayden’s smile faded slightly as he studied him. His brother’s eyes… they weren’t cold tonight. They were wild, cracked, vulnerable. It unsettled even him.

Hours later

The doctor finally emerged, exhaustion etched across his face. “She survived the surgery. But she’s weak. She’ll need rest, careful observation.”

“Where is she?” Vincent’s voice was low, dangerous.

The doctor pointed to a ward. Vincent brushed past him without another word.

Inside the room

The world seemed to shrink as Vincent stepped in. Elena lay motionless against the white sheets, machines beeping steadily. Her hair spilled across the pillow, skin pale as porcelain.

For the first time in years, Vincent’s movements were hesitant. He pulled a chair close and sat, staring at her. His hand hovered above hers but didn’t touch.

His voice came rough, almost foreign to his own ears. “You think I wanted this? You think I wanted you to bleed just to escape me?”

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You broke me tonight, Elena. You’ve managed what no enemy ever could.”

A weak rustle broke the air. Her eyelashes fluttered, eyes slowly opening. She blinked, struggling to focus, but finally her gaze met his.

Elena’s lips parted. Her voice was faint, raw. “If you really care… let me go.”

The words were soft. But to Vincent, they were daggers.

His chest rose and fell, once, twice. His fingers curled into fists. He leaned closer, his voice hoarse. “Don’t ask me that. You don’t know what you mean to me.”

A tear slid down her cheek. “What I mean? To you, I’m a cage. A weakness. You call it care, but all you do is chain me.” Her voice cracked. “I don’t want this life anymore.”

Silence. The room seemed to hold its breath. Vincent shut his eyes, every muscle in his body taut like a bowstring.

He opened them again, staring at her with a look both tortured and furious. Finally, he spoke, each word laced with agony. “…Fine. If freedom is what you want, I’ll give it to you.”

Elena gasped softly, eyes widening.

“But remember this,” Vincent’s voice dropped to a chilling whisper. “No matter where you go, no matter how far you run… your shadow will always belong to me.”

Her lips trembled, but exhaustion overtook her. Her eyes slid shut, tears still fresh on her cheeks.

Vincent sat there, unmoving. His hand hovered once more—this time, he gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. The gesture was tender, almost reverent.

Then he stood.

Outside the ward

Zayden leaned against the wall, arms crossed. His smirk returned as Vincent stepped out.

“So you finally lost, Vincent. Lost to her.”

Vincent’s expression was unreadable, his gaze steel. He walked past Zayden without slowing. “I didn’t lose her.”

Zayden arched a brow. “No?”

Vincent’s voice was low, dangerous, enough to freeze the air. “I let her go.”

For once, Zayden had no reply.

Inside Elena’s ward, the machines beeped steadily. She breathed softly, finally free from his presence—at least for now.

But outside, far beyond the hospital walls, a pair of cold eyes watched from the shadows. A cigarette glowed in the night as a familiar figure muttered under his breath:

“So… Vincent let you go, Elena. Good. That means it’s my turn now.”

The smoke curled into the air. Damien had returned.