The door slams shut, and the sound reverberates in the silence, sharp and final. I stand there for a moment, frozen, heart pounding in my chest as I take in the room around me. At first glance, it looks almost… ordinary. A guest room with soft lighting, pale walls, and a simple bed in the middle of the space. There’s a dresser across from me, a small chair in the corner, even a little bedside table with a reading lamp casting a dim, warm glow over everything.
But as I look closer, panic twists in my stomach. There’s a camera in the corner, small but visible, its dark lens pointed right at me. The windows are covered with iron bars, thick and unyielding, and as I step closer, I see the locks embedded into the frame. They’re sturdy, reinforced. Whoever designed this room did it with one purpose–to keep people inside.
My mind races, dread clawing up my spine as I realize what this room truly is. This isn’t a guest room. This is a prison. A cell, masquerading as something normal. I can’t breathe, my pulse drumming in my ears. I try the door, but it doesn’t budge, the lock on the other side shutting me off from any chance of escape.
It’s exactly like the one in my own house–the room my father uses when he’s brought people in, people he wanted answers from, people who he didn’t plan on letting go anytime soon. I remember the way they’d look as he led them in–defeated, knowing what this room meant. Now, standing here, trapped, I finally understand that feeling for myself.
I press my back against the wall, fighting the rising tide of panic. I need to calm down. I need to think. I force myself to sit on the bed, tucking my knees up to my chest, my head dropping between them. I focus on breathing, in and out, counting each breath, trying to slow the frantic beating of my heart. But every time I close my eyes, I’m confronted by the images of those men I’d seen in the room in my own house, the way their faces would go slack, lifeless, when they realized that they weren’t leaving.
I can’t fall apart now. I can’t. But my mind won’t quiet, the weight of what’s happening crashing down on me. I’m on enemy ground. Trapped, with no one here I can trust. No one here I can reason with. Jaxon Steele–cold, ruthless, infamous for his brutal, emotionless reputation. Tobias–the man my father despises, a man he’s spent years warning me about, talking about the horrors he’s inflicted, the people he’s ruined. And Silas… the man who had carried me here like I weighed nothing, laughing at my struggle, making me feel like a pawn, like something to be tossed in the trunk of a car and delivered.
I bury my head in my hands, trying to slow my breathing, but the pressure in my chest keeps building, twisting tighter and tighter until I feel like I might shatter.
Then, muffled voices drift through the walls, faint but unmistakable.
Silas’s voice first, low and casual, as if he’s talking about the weather. “So… why did you bring her here?” Tobias’s voice. It’s colder than I’d imagined, sharp and controlled. He’s so close, just on the other side of this wall. I press my ear to it, my skin prickling with dread as I strain to listen. Tobias’s voice drops, and I catch something I’d rather not have heard.
“What were you thinking, bringing her here?” His words are filled with accusation, tension rippling beneath them.
Silas responds, a hint of amusement lacing his words. “What, you didn’t think it was a good idea?” There’s a pause, then a small chuckle. “She’s valuable, dad. Knows everything about the Crimsons‘ dealings. This was an opportunity, and I took it.”
There’s another pause, then Tobias’s voice again, grudging, almost approving. “Quick thinking. She could be worth more to us than we realize,” A silence follows, thick and foreboding, each word settling heavy in my gut. I can feel the dread crawling up my spine as they talk about me like I’m nothing more than a prize, a strategy, a piece in a game they’re determined
to win.
My breath catches, and for a second, the tear overtakes me, raw and unfiltered. I’m trapped here, surrounded by people who hate me or, worse, don’t care if I live or die. Every instinct streams at me to find a way out, to fight or flee, but there’s nowhere to go. I’m in a cage with no key, with walls too thick to break, and the ones who put me here see me as nothing more than a tool they’ve stolen.
