Chapter Six- Caged in silk
905 Words
Chapter Six – Caged in Silk
The penthouse wasn’t a home.
It was a fortress dressed in luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the glittering skyline, but Amara felt no freedom in the view. Everything about the space was polished to perfection—marble floors, leather furniture, shelves lined with books and bottles that looked too expensive to touch.
And yet, despite its beauty, the place felt… cold.
Like Damian Voss himself.
Amara sank into one of the leather chairs, her arms wrapped tight around herself. Luka and Marco lingered by the door, watchful and silent, their presence a reminder that she wasn’t a guest here. She was a possession.
Her eyes drifted to the desk in the corner. Papers stacked neatly. A glass ashtray with the faint trace of smoke. And a gun, lying casually across the wood as if it were nothing more than a pen.
She shivered.
Her brother had vanished into this world, and now she understood why. Everything here was designed to consume—to lure you in with silk and whiskey, then choke you with chains.
“Do you need anything?” Luka’s voice cut into her thoughts, clipped but not unkind.
Amara shook her head quickly. “No. I just… I just want to be left alone.”
The two men exchanged a glance, but neither moved. Of course they wouldn’t. Damian’s orders had been clear.
She stood, restless, pacing toward the window. The city lights winked at her like distant stars, but the glass reflected her own face back at her—wide-eyed, uncertain, trapped.
Her fists clenched. “You can lock me in here, but I’m not his.”
The words were whispered, fierce but fragile. She wanted to believe them. She needed to believe them.
And yet, when she closed her eyes, all she could see was the way Damian had looked at her in the club—like he had already decided she belonged to him.
Her pulse raced at the memory, and she hated herself for it.
Still, beneath the fear and the fire, one thought haunted her most of all:
If she had stepped into his world to find her brother… why did it already feel like she was losing herself instead?
The penthouse wasn’t a home.
It was a fortress dressed in luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the glittering skyline, but Amara felt no freedom in the view. Everything about the space was polished to perfection—marble floors, leather furniture, shelves lined with books and bottles that looked too expensive to touch.
And yet, despite its beauty, the place felt… cold.
Like Damian Voss himself.
Amara sank into one of the leather chairs, her arms wrapped tight around herself. Luka and Marco lingered by the door, watchful and silent, their presence a reminder that she wasn’t a guest here. She was a possession.
Her eyes drifted to the desk in the corner. Papers stacked neatly. A glass ashtray with the faint trace of smoke. And a gun, lying casually across the wood as if it were nothing more than a pen.
She shivered.
Her brother had vanished into this world, and now she understood why. Everything here was designed to consume—to lure you in with silk and whiskey, then choke you with chains.
“Do you need anything?” Luka’s voice cut into her thoughts, clipped but not unkind.
Amara shook her head quickly. “No. I just… I just want to be left alone.”
The two men exchanged a glance, but neither moved. Of course they wouldn’t. Damian’s orders had been clear.
Restless, Amara rose and began pacing. Her gaze snagged on the bookshelves—rows of thick leather-bound volumes, but tucked between them, something caught her eye.
A photograph.
It was small, framed in black, almost hidden. She reached for it before she could think.
Her heart stumbled.
Ethan.
Her brother stood in the picture, smiling awkwardly with a drink in hand, his arm slung around another man she didn’t recognize. The background wasn’t the club—but the same penthouse she stood in now.
Her stomach dropped.
Luka cleared his throat sharply. “Don’t touch that.”
Amara jerked, nearly dropping the frame. “Why is my brother in this picture?!”
Marco moved quickly, plucking it from her hands and setting it back on the shelf. His voice was flat. “That’s not for you to ask.”
Her chest tightened, fury and hope colliding. “So you know him. He was here. You can’t tell me he just vanished—”
“Enough,” Luka cut her off, his tone final.
But Amara’s blood was boiling. “You’re hiding something. Both of you. He was here, in this very room. And Damian knows exactly what happened to him.”
The men exchanged another look, this one heavier.
Amara’s pulse raced. She pressed a hand against the window to steady herself, staring out at the glittering city below. “Then I was right to come. And I’m not leaving… not until I find the truth.”
Her reflection in the glass stared back at her—haunted, trembling, but sharper than before.
She was afraid. God, she was terrified. But beneath the fear, a dangerous resolve was taking root.
If Damian Voss thought she was just a delicate bird in his gilded cage… he had no idea how hard she could fight to find her brother.
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