Chapter 7: The Cage
847 Words
Stone slammed against stone.
Seraphine hit the wall hard enough to knock the air from her lungs. Pain bloomed sharp and immediate, but she didn’t cry out. She never did. Pain was familiar. Pain was manageable.
What she wasn’t prepared for was the hand around her wrist iron-strong, unyielding, inhuman.
Lucien Blackthorn didn’t just stop her blade.
He stopped her.
Her dagger lay useless on the floor, knocked from her grip with humiliating ease. She twisted instinctively, aiming a knee for his ribs, but he shifted faster than thought, pinning her body to the stone wall with his forearm pressed against her throat.
Not choking.
Just… reminding her how easily he could.
Golden eyes burned into hers, pupils blown wide, his wolf roaring so loudly she could feel it vibrating through him. His chest rose and fell like he’d just come out of a battle, not intercepted a killing strike.
“You move like death,” he said quietly.
Seraphine met his gaze without flinching, even as her pulse thundered. “You’re slower than you think.”
A mistake.
Something dangerous flickered across his face—not anger.
Interest.
He leaned closer, inhaling slowly, deeply, like a predator savoring prey. His nose brushed her temple. His breath was warm against her skin.
“And yet,” he murmured, “you smell like you didn’t expect to fail.”
Her blood sang. Literally. Heat curled low in her stomach, unfamiliar and unwelcome. She shoved against him again, but his grip tightened, not painful—controlled.
That was worse.
“Kill me,” she said flatly.
Lucien stilled.
The silence stretched, heavy and sharp. His eyes searched her face, not for fear there was none but for something else.
Purpose.
“No,” he said at last.
Her brows knit together despite herself. “You should.”
“I know.”
He released her wrist abruptly, stepping back. For a split second, she thought he was going to tear her apart after all but instead, he turned away.
“Bind her.”
The command echoed through the chamber.
Before she could react, two wolves stepped forward. Seraphine fought them viciously elbows, knees, teeth but exhaustion and shock dulled her edge. Silver cuffs snapped around her wrists, humming faintly with suppression magic. Her strength bled out of her limbs like water through cracks.
She dropped to her knees.
Lucien watched the entire thing without expression.
“You tried to kill your Alpha,” one of the guards snarled. “That’s a death sentence.”
Lucien lifted a hand.
“Leave us.”
The guards hesitated. “Alpha”
“Leave.”
The single word carried absolute authority. They bowed and retreated, the door sealing behind them with a grinding thud that echoed finality.
Seraphine pushed herself upright, chains clinking softly. “Why am I still breathing?”
Lucien approached slowly, boots echoing against stone. The torchlight carved harsh shadows across his face sharp jaw, cruelly beautiful mouth, eyes still glowing faintly gold.
“Because I don’t execute mysteries,” he said. “I dissect them.”
He stopped an arm’s length away.
“You knew where to strike,” he continued. “You knew my blind spots. My heartbeat pattern. You weren’t guessing.”
Seraphine said nothing.
“You’re not pack,” he went on. “You’re not human. And your blood” His jaw tightened. “it does something to me.”
Her silence stretched thin, deliberate.
Lucien crouched in front of her, bringing them eye to eye. The proximity was dangerous. His wolf pressed forward, curious and aggressive, but restrained.
“Who sent you?” he asked softly.
She tilted her head. “You already know the answer won’t help you.”
A smile touched his lips. It didn’t reach his eyes.
“Then you’ll stay,” he said.
Her stomach dropped.
“In my territory. In my sight.”
He rose and snapped his fingers. The wall behind her shuddered. Stone shifted, grinding and reforming until iron bars slid up from the floor, enclosing her in a narrow chamber carved directly into the mountain.
A cage.
Cold. Bare. Unescapable.
Lucien stepped back as the bars sealed between them.
Seraphine’s pulse stayed steady. Her mind raced.
“You’re afraid to kill me,” she said calmly.
His eyes darkened.
“No,” he corrected. “I’m afraid of what happens if I don’t understand you first.”
She met his gaze through the bars, refusing to shrink.
“This won’t end well for you.”
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest.
“It already hasn’t,” he said. Then, quieter, more dangerous: “For either of us.”
He turned to leave, then paused, glancing back over his shoulder.
“You belong where I can watch you.”
The door slammed shut.
Darkness swallowed the chamber but not before Seraphine caught the subtle tremor in his hands.
And realized something chilling.
The immortal Alpha of Nightfall…
Had chosen not to kill her.
And she didn’t know if that was mercy or the beginning of something far worse.
- Writer
