Chapter 3: A Cage of Gold

Celia's heart pounded as Damon's arm tightened around her waist, his solid warmth pressed against her back.

The chase was over.

She had lost.

The moment she had turned to run, a part of her had known it would end this way.

She wasn't fast enough.

Not against him.

The scent of pine and smoke clung to his skin, enveloping her senses.

His lips hovered dangerously close to her ear as he whispered, "Do you surrender?"

Celia swallowed hard, willing herself to remain unaffected.

"Let me go," she breathed.

Damon chuckled lowly, his voice dripping with amusement.

"Not a chance."

With effortless strength, he lifted her into his arms.

Celia struggled, but his grip was firm, like steel bands locking her in place.

"You have no right—" she hissed, her fists pounding against his chest.

Damon barely flinched.

"I have every right. You belong to me."

Celia's stomach twisted at those words.

No.

She would never belong to anyone.

He carried her through the dense forest, moving with inhuman speed.

**********************************************

The Silverclaw warriors had long since scattered, knowing better than to interfere with the Alpha King.

She was well and truly alone now.

With every mile that passed, Celia's anger burned hotter.

She was not weak.

She was not some prize to be claimed.

And if Damon Blackwood thought he could own her, he was sorely mistaken.

**********************************************

By the time they reached Blackwood territory, the sun was beginning to rise, casting a golden glow over the grand estate that loomed before them.

The Blackwood pack's home was nothing like the rugged, warrior-focused Silverclaw dens.

It was a fortress.

Tall black stone walls surrounded the estate, manned by guards who dipped their heads in respect as Damon passed.

The main house was more of a palace—its vast, gothic architecture framed by sprawling courtyards and towering spires.

Celia barely had time to process the sheer wealth and power radiating from this place before she was being carried through the grand entrance.

A few pack members stopped to stare, their eyes widening as they caught her scent.

They knew.

Whispers filled the air.

"The Alpha's mate…"

"Impossible. She's a Silverclaw."

Damon ignored them, his pace unbroken as he strode up the grand staircase and into a lavish wing of the estate.

Finally, he stopped before a set of ornate double doors.

With one push, they swung open, revealing a massive chamber.

A bedroom.

Celia's eyes swept over the space in disbelief.

A massive bed sat in the center, draped in dark silks.

A balcony overlooked the entire Blackwood territory, the sprawling forests stretching far beyond the horizon.

The scent of burning embers lingered in the air—his scent.

Realization hit her at that moment .

This was his chamber.

Damon finally set her down, his golden gaze unreadable.

Celia took a step back.

"You can't keep me here."

His smirk was slow, confident.

"I already have."

Fury coiled in her chest.

"I am not your prisoner."

Damon arched a brow.

"Who said anything about being a prisoner?" He motioned toward the grand room, the luxury that surrounded her.

"This is your home now."

The words sent a chill through her spine.

Home.

No.

This was nothing more than a gilded cage.

Celia turned sharply toward the door, her mind racing.

She had to get out.

She ran .

But before she could even reach the exit, Damon was there.

Moving faster than she could track, he grabbed her wrist, yanking her back.

Her body collided with his.

A gasp escaped her lips as her palms landed against his bare chest, the heat of his skin branding her.

His grip was firm but not painful.

A warning.

Celia lifted her chin in a challenging manner .

"You can't force this."

Damon's gaze darkened.

"You think I'll let you go?"

His voice was dangerously low, sending shivers down her spine.

She glared up at him, refusing to be intimidated.

"I'll never submit to you."

A slow smirk curled his lips.

"Then I'll make you crave it."

Celia sucked in a sharp breath.

The words were a dark promise—not one of dominance, but of something far more dangerous.

A challenge.

And something deep within her… responded.

She could feel it in the way her pulse quickened, in the way her body refused to move away from his.

The bond between them pulsed stronger than before, threading through her veins, searing through her walls.

Celia gritted her teeth.

No.

She would not be weak.

"I hate you," she whispered.

Damon's smirk deepened.

"Hate me all you want. You're still mine."

Her breath caught.

Before she could gather her thoughts, he leaned down, his lips brushing dangerously close to her ear.

"But if you truly wish to leave," he murmured, "try again."

Celia's fists clenched.

Her mind screamed at her to fight, to shove him away, to do something.

But all she could do was stand there, heart racing, as Damon Blackwood watched her with the confidence of a man who already knew the outcome.

And that terrified her more than anything else.