Caged (Savage Men 1)

I snatch the picture before he can take it away again. He’ll have to claw it out of my dead hands before I ever give this back.

“If … you behave,” he adds, raising a brow.

I make a face at him, refusing to use my voice for someone as disgusting as him.

“You want more perks? Act like an adult,” he says. “And maybe … just maybe … you’ll see the outside world again.”

Outside world.

Did he just say that out loud or did I dream it?

Images of the green bushes and trees around my house flash through my mind again—the bright sun and blue sky, birds flocking together, the sounds of nature, animals, quacking, crickets chirping, my mom’s voice.

I almost tear up again, but I push them away.

I want to go there but on my terms. It has to be my choice, not his.

So I clench the photograph between my fingers and stare him down until he gets the message. I’m not going to be easy. I’m not going to be good. I’m going down loud and with my pride intact. He might use my body, but he’ll never break my soul.

When he’s gone, I sit on the bed and stare at the picture in my hands. My eyes tear up again at the sight of her face. She’s pretty. They must’ve noticed that too, so they finally bought her. I don’t know where she is or if she’s happy … but all I can hope for is that she’s safe. That the man who bought her will make her whole again.

Cage has been watching me from his corner, staring at me while under the shower. He’s fully nude, but as always, he doesn’t seem to care. But I’m not focused on him as he’s used to. I’m homed in on the picture and all that it entails.

This was a gift from Graham … that he felt compelled to give me. But why?

Was it because I’m refusing to eat?

Or is it because of something else?

I look up at Cage and ask, “Did you do this?” I hold up the picture.

He steps out from under the shower and grabs a towel, drying off as he walks closer, still completely naked. I don’t let it get to me even though his body is to die for.

He nods briefly then points with his fingers at the picture.

I wonder why.

Turning it around, I notice scribblings on the back that I’m not prepared for.

Fight. Live. Love. Never give up. You will be free.

It’s her, but it isn’t her handwriting. It can’t be. She was blind. Her buyer must’ve written this on the back for her. Maybe as a last request.

I smile, tearing up. Her last minute here, with her freedom still belonging to her, was spent trying to give me a message of hope. My heart fills with gratitude and joy, wishing I could thank her for what she’s done.

I won’t give up.

She’s here, watching over me through her picture, reminding me of what’s at stake. Reminding me of what this world owes me. The freedom to live how I want.

“What does it say?” Cage’s guttural voice blocks out all the voices in my head.

“That I shouldn’t ever give up …” I mumble, licking my lips. I pause for a second then gaze up at him. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t …” He swallows, unable to finish his sentence.

“I know you asked your father to do something,” I say. “Down there …” I point at the carpet under which the circular window lies.

He nods again, rubbing the back of his head, still completely oblivious to the fact that he’s naked. And buff. And … hot.

Jesus, why am I thinking this right now?

Blushing, I place the picture down on the bed and sigh out loud, telling myself I can do this.

I need to do this. If I ever want to see the outside world again, I need to give Graham what he wants.

And what he wants … is for me to fuck Cage.

It’s fucked up, but there’s no other way.

I’ll throw away my dignity for the sake of my freedom.

Anyone would.

So when the shower turns off, and the door emits that familiar click sound again, I don’t panic. I don’t flee. I stay put and wait until he comes to take me.

Chapter Twenty-One

Accompanying Song: “Not Afraid Anymore” by Roniit

Ella

He makes his way through the room and opens my door. He looks like a walking sex god. Like a bear, he stalks toward me, but carefully, as if he doesn’t want to scare me. But I’m not afraid. Not anymore.

I don’t believe he could hurt me. He wants me too badly. He likes me too much to ruin me.

At least, that’s what I hope.

When he’s close, I suck in a breath as he inches toward me, eyes closed, and sniffs me again. He does that every time as if he savors my scent … or maybe it makes him hard.