Caged (Savage Men 1)

Before I realize it, Father’s pulled something else out of his pocket and rammed it into my skin. A needle filled with fluids.

“No!” Ella screams, watching in agony.

I hate that she has to see this. Hate that she has to watch him play dirty. That she has to witness me lose a fight.

I twist and turn, trying to get him off me, and I even shove my hand in his face, tugging and poking at everything, but it doesn’t work. I’m losing my energy, losing the control over my limbs, and soon, every inch of my body fails to respond.

I watch in misery as he gets up from me and rushes through the doors on his way to her. I’m completely powerless as I watch her struggle with him to the very last inch of her strength. He overpowers her too, ramming a needle into her body as well.

Not soon after, she collapses to the ground.

Water fills my eyes and rolls down my face as I slowly fade out of consciousness.

I’ve failed her. Our plan is ruined, and now I’ve doomed us both.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Accompanying Song: “Catch Me If You Can” by Shane Eli feat. Will Peters

Ella

When I wake, my head hurts, and my vision is blurry. I feel like I’ve been smacked in the head a million times … or dragged down a staircase.

I try to move but can’t. Something completely restricts my limbs … but I can’t tell what. It’s something thick and bristly and pokes into my skin. Like rope.

And I’m sitting on something hard … brown … It must be a wooden chair.

When I look around, all I see is bright lights and more rope, and a stage right in front of me. The fighting ring.

My eyes burst open, and I force myself to wake up. Sounds from people sitting in the stands come from the left and right. They’re watching something … something going on inside the ring.

Two people fighting … or three … no, more.

I can’t tell because everything is still blurry, but I know this … One of them is Cage.

It’s his towering shadow right in front of me that discerns it. I scream.

The people in the stands don’t react. They’re still watching the fight, throwing their fists into the air and cheering on the fighters. I don’t know who’s who, but I can tell they’re not rooting for Cage. All the fighters inside the ring must belong to them, each one of them having an owner just like Cage.

Pets fighting over the same prize.

And I’m a powerless spectator to this debauchery.

“So this is the beast …” one of the men yells, laughing right after. “I want to see more!”

I feel like he’s talking about Cage because they’re all looking at him—at the way he moves, ducks when attacked, and slides across the stage like an agile warrior.

But something’s wrong. His body quakes after each blow, and I can clearly see rivulets of blood running down his body.

He’s still wounded … from the knife Graham stuck between his ribs.

It’s an unfair battle, and they’re all enjoying his pain. How ugly.

One of the men flicks his fingers, and someone in the corner of the hall steps up and enters the ring. It’s a three-way fight now … except both men only throw punches at Cage.

“I wanna see how much he can do …” one of the men in the stands says.

“Yeah, let’s see how hard he is,” another one says.

They all laugh, and I hear Graham speak up. “Great idea! He needs to be punished anyway.”

“Why not add more then?” One of the men shrugs.

“Yeah.” Graham bites his lip. “Let’s get more fighters in the ring. I want him to sweat and bleed. He needs to learn his lesson.”

Graham turns around, briefly glancing at me before yelling, “Get into the ring. One by one. Let’s go!”

More men step up from the shadows and get onto the stage.

No. No. No!

That means they’ll keep pouring in until Cage can’t take it any longer. He might die. But he can’t … he can’t die!

A burst of energy overcomes me, and I start moving the chair up and down and sideways, trying to get their attention. They have to know he’s hurt and that this isn’t a fair fight.

But the more I move, the more Graham’s face begins to sour. I know he’s onto me. It won’t be long until he shuts me up. So I open my mouth and try to scream.

What comes out is a vague attempt at putting up a shriek, but it works.

They’re all looking at me now.

“Who’s that?” one of the men asks.

“H-help!” I scream, my voice hoarse, but it feels so good to let it out.

“Oh, she’s the girl I chose to carry his kid. What do you think?” Graham mumbles, and my jaw drops.