Caged (Savage Men 1)

Chapter Sixteen

Accompanying Song: “Bing Abi” by Stephen McKeon

Ella

The black door has long closed but not the one to my heart.

With every smile and every innocent gaze as I tell him more about my world, he nudges it open bit by bit.

It makes me wonder if I’m starting to lose my mind.

It can’t be normal to fall for someone in a place like this, let alone for the son of your captor.

But when I look at him and see the primal, animalistic man as he works out on the bars, all I feel is warmth. Comfort. The only bit of light in this cell.

And I think Syrena’s noticed it too.

She keeps raising her brows at me, giggling to herself. I know she can tell. She only needed to hear the sounds I made in that room. That, and our complete and utter silence about the whole issue.

I can’t even discuss what I did. Not to him. Not to her. Not to anyone, including myself.

It’s too shameful … even when I don’t want it to be.

Because who’d offer themselves up like that?

No one. Except me, of course. And I keep telling myself I did it for Syrena even though that’s not the entire truth. It’s the only way I can stay sane in this place.

“So are we going to discuss this … thing?” Syrena suddenly says.

I already cringe at the thought of her listening to the sounds I made in that room while Cage was licking me. Just thinking about it makes my heart do a backflip again.

“Thing?” Cage growls.

“Yeah. You two hooking up. That thing.”

He just makes a face and returns to doing his push-ups, just as he always does when he doesn’t want to discuss something. We’ve got more in common than I thought.

“I did it … t-to s-stop Graham …” I say to the best of my ability. “From t-taking you.”

It’s my way of talking things right. That, and I don’t want her to have to go through all that pain again because of me. If I have to fuck Cage to prevent it, then so be it.

“For me?” She snorts. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to.”

“His will is law …” Cage says, narrowing his eyes at her.

“So? Doesn’t mean we have to listen.” She leans back on her bed. “I don’t care what he says or wants; I’d rather die than play by his rules. I’m not going to be some easy captive. No way.”

I love her tenacity. How, in the face of death, she still maintains her resistance. That’s real power. No one can bend her, no matter how hard they try.

It’s the kind of resolve I’m jealous of.

I wish I was that strong, but my weakness is seeing other people in trouble and being the cause of that trouble. I learned that a long time ago.

I stare at Cage as he keeps doing push-ups until beads of sweat roll down his body. His eyes constantly switch from the floor to me and back again as if he enjoys me watching. To me, it’s entertaining. The only thing I can do in this place is communicate with people.

I feel like a caged pet.

Something to play with.

I’m specifically here for him, but even after knowing why, I still don’t fully understand it.

Why was I selected over all the other possible girls? And since I’m sort of selectively mute and Syrena blind, does that mean Graham has a thing for disabled people? Or are we just easy targets?

So I open my mouth and let the words roll out, hoping Cage might have the answer. “Why me?”

He frowns and stops pushing himself up.

“Why did Graham take me?”

He answers with a guttural voice. “Because I wanted you.”

His admission makes me shiver, and I can’t help but glare in disbelief.

Even Syrena sits up straight in bed.

“You chose me?” I exclaim. His nod confirms my suspicions. “So it was you.”

I don’t know why I feel the way I do, but it’s as if he just rammed a knife into my back, and I helped him shove it in farther. I should’ve known this. It all makes sense, yet I refused to even think about it because I didn’t want him to break that magical version of him I’d created in my head.

Stupid. So stupid.

“No regret,” he adds, licking his lips. “I liked you …”

“Why?” I ask. “How?”

“Pictures.” He points at the drawings I made on the toilet paper that I tucked underneath my bed, and it makes me want to tear them all up.

“I wanted you …” he adds, the left side of his lip quirking up into a smile. “Pretty.”

“I’m not a doll!” I feel like I’m boiling on the inside.

He grimaces, clearly upset as his head hangs low.

He should feel ashamed. It’s his fault that I’m in here.

Out of all the girls he could’ve picked, he chose me. That is not a compliment even though he seems to think it is.