Chapter 10: A Devil’s Den (And a Cage with No Exit)

Cady's POV

The car speeds through the night, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold and red. I can barely catch my breath, my heart hammering so hard it feels like it's going to shatter my ribs. Tate sits beside me, silent, his eyes trained on the road ahead, cold and unyielding like a marble statue.

I don't dare ask him again where we're going. Not after the way he looked at me, not after that twisted, empty look in his eyes. I feel like I'm sitting next to a ticking time bomb, and any wrong move will set him off.

I stare out the window, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. I refuse to cry in front of him again. I refuse to give him that satisfaction. But God, it's so hard. Everything about him screams danger, and I'm trapped, powerless to stop whatever is about to happen next.

My mind keeps racing back to what I heard. That man—Tate's brother. Their mother. What did he mean? What was that about Tate being the last one seen with her before she died? I swallow hard, dread coiling in my stomach like a snake. I don't know Tate Mercer, not really. But one thing's for sure: I'm in way over my head.

The car pulls up to a massive iron gate, guarded by men in dark suits. They don't even question him; they just nod and step aside, the gates groaning as they swing open. Tate's fingers tap against his thigh, impatient, and I see him glance at me from the corner of his eye.

I shiver, instinctively shrinking into myself, but he doesn't say a word. The car drives through the gates, up a winding driveway that seems to go on forever, until we finally come to a stop in front of a sprawling mansion. It's huge, looming over us like some dark, twisted castle. All windows are pitch black, no lights, no sign of life. Just a cold, empty shell.

"Get out," Tate commands, his voice slicing through the silence like a knife.

I hesitate, and he grabs my arm, yanking me out of the car with such force that I stumble, nearly falling face-first onto the gravel. "I said, get out."

I bite my tongue, swallowing down the anger, the fear, and nod. "Why are you doing this?" I whisper, my voice trembling despite myself. "What do you want from me?"

He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. "Everything."

The word sends a shiver down my spine, and I pull back, trying to put some distance between us, but he doesn't let go. He drags me up the steps and through the front door, his grip like a vice around my wrist.

The inside of the mansion is just as cold as the outside. Dark walls, expensive-looking furniture, and an eerie silence that makes my skin crawl. He leads me down a hallway, past room after room, until we reach a door at the end. He stops, turning to face me, and for a moment, I see something flicker in his eyes. Something almost... human.

But then it's gone, replaced by that cold, cruel mask he always wears.

"This," he says, pushing the door open, "is where you'll stay."

I step inside, my heart sinking as I take in the room. It's... luxurious, I guess. A huge bed, plush carpets, a chandelier that looks like it could be worth more than my entire life. But the windows are barred, the door reinforced with thick metal, and there's only one way in or out. It's a cage. A gilded cage.

"You can't keep me here," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "You can't just—"

"Can't I?" he interrupts, stepping closer, so close I can feel the heat radiating off him. "You belong to me now, Cady. And you're going to stay here until I say otherwise."

My blood boils, my hands clenching into fists. "I'm not your property," I spit out, glaring up at him. "You don't own me."

He laughs, a low, dangerous sound that sends chills down my spine. "Oh, Sparky," he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering on my skin. "You keep saying that. But you haven't figured it out yet, have you?"

I jerk away, batting his hand aside. "Screw you."

He smirks, stepping back. "Maybe later." Then he turns and walks out, locking the door behind him with a final, echoing click.

I rush to the door, jiggling the handle, pounding against the wood. "Let me out! Tate, you can't do this! Let me out!"

Silence.

I slump against the door, my body trembling, hot tears stinging my eyes. What the hell am I going to do?

$$$

The hours crawl by, each one more agonizing than the last. I pace the room, checking the windows, the walls, searching for any way out. But there's nothing. It's like he planned this, like he knew I'd try to escape.

Of course, he knew. He always knows.

I sit on the edge of the bed, my mind racing, trying to piece together everything I know about him. The things I've heard, the things I've seen. That conversation with his brother keeps playing in my head, over and over, until I feel like I'm going crazy.

Why would he lie about his mother? Why would he hide the truth? And why do I care?

I hate him. I hate everything about him. But deep down, there's a tiny voice that whispers something else, something that makes me sick to my stomach.

He's broken. Just like me.

I shake my head, pushing the thought away. It doesn't matter. None of it matters. The only thing that matters is getting out of here. Before he breaks me even more than he already has.

The door swings open suddenly, and I jump to my feet, my heart lurching in my chest. Tate stands in the doorway, a tray of food in his hands.

"You didn't eat," he says, his tone flat, as if it's the most normal thing in the world.