Chapter 6 – Caged Wolf
703 Words
Rhea’s POV
The room was suffocating. Not because of its size—it was massive, probably bigger than the entire shitty apartment I rented—but because it smelled like them.
Like raw power. Like ownership.
I hated it.
I hated how my skin burned from their touch even though they hadn’t laid a finger on me since locking me in here.
I needed to get the hell out.
The window? Reinforced glass.
The door? Locked, bolted, and probably spelled for extra security.
Cowards.
I paced, restless, my wolf snarling beneath my skin. My reflection in the mirror across the room mocked me—messy dark curls, wild eyes, too-thin tank top barely covering my ribs.
My shorts barely counted as clothing, but I never cared about modesty. Why cover up when I ran too fast for anyone to look anyway?
Except now I was trapped.
By them.
Three f*cking alphas.
My fists clenched at the thought. I didn’t want to think about the way they had looked at me. Like I was something precious. Owned.
A mate.
I gagged.
I didn’t need a pack. I didn’t need them.
I needed out.
A sharp knock on the door made me freeze.
Then, the knob turned.
---
Kieran’s POV
She was pacing again.
I watched her through the security feed on my phone, my fingers tapping against the polished wood of the hallway railing. Restless. Angry.
Perfect.
She hadn’t stopped moving since we locked her in. Her scent was stronger now—adrenaline, defiance, frustration.
It made my wolf hungry.
“She’s going to destroy that room,” Lucien said lazily, leaning against the wall beside me, crimson eyes flickering with amusement.
Zayne huffed, arms crossed over his chest. “We could’ve taken her to a packhouse.”
“No,” I said smoothly. “We’re handling her. Not the pack.”
Lucien chuckled. “She wouldn’t last a day in a pack. Someone would try to tame her.”
Zayne grinned. “And they’d die for it.”
I smirked. Exactly.
She was ours.
And it was time she understood that.
I pocketed my phone and pushed open the door.
---
Rhea’s POV
He moved like a shadow.
One second I was alone, and the next—he was there.
The Lycan.
Kieran.
His golden eyes locked onto mine as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.
The air in the room shifted, thickening, his power rolling off him in slow, deliberate waves.
I swallowed down my instinct to flinch.
Instead, I straightened, crossing my arms, my glare sharp enough to cut through steel.
He didn’t speak.
Didn’t move.
Just watched me.
Measured me.
My wolf bristled at the weight of his dominance, but I held my ground.
He exhaled through his nose, something dangerous curling at the edges of his mouth.
Then, slowly, he spoke.
“Tell me your name.”
I lifted my chin. “f**k you.”
His eyes darkened.
I took a step back on instinct, but he moved first.
One second I had space, and the next—I didn’t.
Too close.
My back hit the wall, his body looming, his scent thick, masculine, infuriating.
His voice was a low command.
“Tell me your name.”
My pulse slammed against my ribs.
I gritted my teeth, refusing to fold. “Why? So you can carve it into your bedpost?”
A slow, dark chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Do you think I need your name for that?”
Bastard.
I shoved against his chest, but he didn’t move.
Didn’t even flinch.
His fingers brushed my jaw.
My body reacted violently.
Not in fear. Not in pain.
In heat.
My wolf whimpered.
I snapped my teeth at him in warning, but his expression remained calm, unreadable.
“I’ll ask one more time,” he murmured. “Tell me your name, little rogue.”
I swallowed, my throat tight.
His eyes—**golden, glowing, all-consuming—**burned into me.
I could lie. Could say anything.
But I didn’t.
Because something in me already knew—he wouldn’t accept anything but the truth.
“…Rhea.”
His lips curved.
And my heart f*cking stopped.
- Writer
