The Gilded Cage #2
He’s got hair similar to Hunter’s—jet black—but it’s always tousled, a few strands falling over his forehead.
His dark brown eyes emulate this silent intensity, and a warning—one that says not to fuck with him.
But what really pulls his mafia look together are the tattoos running down his arm.
He’s handsome, there’s no denying that. But in a more rugged way.
“Shut the fuck up, Callum,” Hunter yells back.
Both Callum and James come into view as they walk up to my room, and I look at the three of them standing at the door now.
They’re intimidating one-on-one, but all of them together seem indestructible. Anyone would be foolish to think they can get past these three men, anyone being me.
Their eyes are locked on me, and I can’t help but feel hyper aware of the mess I probably look like right now.
“Reckless,” Callum’s voice cuts through the silence like a blade, low and full of disdain. “That’s the word for you, isn’t it, Moretti?”
I stiffen, my hands gripping the edge of the bed. “Excuse me?”
He steps inside, his presence filling the space like a storm cloud, his dark eyes narrowed and hard.
“You trying to sneak out? That’s just pure selfish, now isn’t it?
I mean, after Hunter here decided he wants to save your life, this is how you thank him?
See boys, this is why I didn’t trust her.
She just wants to reap the benefits of the wealth and comfort we offer, and then run out the first chance she gets. ”
“Benefits?” I shoot back, my voice rising as anger flares in my chest. “You think me staying here is beneficial for me? You think I’m enjoying this little prison of yours?”
Shut up, Lina! I mean, kudos to me for being able to talk back to him, but I’m pretty sure I’m digging my own grave right now.
I’m panicked, about to lose my mind and possibly wet myself, but I walk up to Callum, my eyes on his.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Callum snaps, his tone laced with frustration.
“Despite my best efforts to stop them, this idiot,” he points to Hunter, “wants to keep you here. And James here is giving into his tantrum. So, I’d highly suggest you don’t push your luck.
As it is, it’s taking everything in me not to throw you out myself. "
His words hit like a slap, but I refuse to back down. “I didn’t ask for this,” I say, standing to face him. “I didn’t ask to be dragged into your world, to be kept here. Please, by all means, throw me out. You’d be doing me a favor!”
“When are you going to understand? I don’t care about what you want. I don’t care if you’re here or not. But, if we tell you you’re here, you’re here. You do what we tell you,” he counters, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
“Callum.” Hunter’s voice is stern, full of warning.
But, before he can say another word, I interrupt him.
“I don’t know who you think you are, trying to control me,” I snap, my own anger boiling over. “But, I don’t need your help, or protection or anything else from you. So, just let me leave—”
Callum laughs, though there’s no humor in it. “Do you realize you’re talking to an armed man right now?”
“Callum,” a calm voice interrupts, and James finally speaks up.
My head snaps to him, his golden-brown eyes flickering with quiet authority, his arms crossed over his chest.
“No, James. I’ve had enough of this,” Callum growls, but James doesn’t move.
“I think you’ve made your point,” James says evenly, stepping into the room. “Now, let me handle it.”
Callum glares at him, his jaw tight, but after a tense moment, he backs off, muttering something under his breath as he walks out the door.
James waits until the door bangs shut behind him before turning to me. His expression softens, the sharp edges melting into something more measured.
James has got a softer look to him, despite being the leader of a mafia gang. He’s got a dimpled smile and a sharp jawline that makes him all the more attractive. His sandy-blonde hair and soft features make him look almost aristocratic, betraying the tough man that lies beneath.
His golden-brown eyes radiate an understated warmth, and he’s got a lean yet toned physique often hidden beneath these perfectly tailored suits he always wears.
“Lina,” he begins, his voice quieter now. “I know this isn’t easy for you. None of this is. But Callum’s right about one thing—you can’t leave. Not yet.”
I cross my arms, glaring at the floor. “And why not? Because you want to protect me and keep me safe while I recover? The only thing I need protection from is all of you.”
“You may think that now, but we’re unicorns compared to the Armadas and any other gang that we stand among.
Do you think any of those people would have let you live, or saved you if one of their men shot you?
No, Lina. They wouldn’t. In fact, their shot wouldn’t even miss.
They would aim for your head and pull the trigger.
” James says simply. “We may lead bad lives, but we’re not bad people. ”
There’s no malice in his tone, no anger, just a quiet honesty that makes my chest tighten.
He continues, stepping closer. “We, unlike our enemies, don’t like taking innocent lives…
unless absolutely necessary. They kill for sport; we kill those who really deserve it.
But, don’t be mistaken about one thing: my loyalty to the Dragona.
We’re kind to you, yes, but if you take advantage of this, or try anything that could hurt us, Callum is the last thing you’ll have to worry about. I’ll be the first.”
I shake my head, my throat dry.
His words send a chill down my spine, and I sink back onto the edge of the bed, the fight draining out of me.
“I just want to go home,” I say finally, my voice cracking.
Hunter sighs, moving past James and putting his hand on my shoulder. “I know,” he says again. “And I promise, we’ll do everything we can to make that happen. But for now, the safest place for you is here. With us. So, let us help you.”
His words are calm and soothing, but they do little to ease the knot of fear and frustration in my chest. I glance at the window, the faint glow of the garden lights spilling into the room.
“This isn’t a life,” I mutter. “This is… this is a cage.”
“It’s temporary,” James says firmly, his voice carrying a note of finality. “And it’s necessary. I need you to understand that, Lina. We’re not your enemies, but if you keep pushing, you’re going to make things worse—for all of us.”
I don’t respond, my gaze fixed on the floor.
“I’ll have someone bring you dinner,” he says, turning toward the door as Hunter follows behind. “Get some rest. You’ll need it.”
As the door closes behind them, I fall onto the couch with all the fancy gifts laid out.
I hate this. I hate feeling powerless and trapped, like my life is no longer my own. But as much as I want to scream, to fight, to escape, I can’t ignore the truth in James' words.
“What is making them want to protect me? Why do they care about me? I’m no one, nothing, to them.” I sigh.
I fall onto my fancy, overly cushioned bed. This entire week, everything to do with these men, has worn me out immensely.
Just as I lie down to process my thoughts and wallow in my misery, there is a knock on the door. Again.
“Come in,” I call, and Hunter enters the room with a tray of food. From the looks of it, it’s a roast with a side of potatoes and some vegetables. It’s a home cooked meal, the kind they show you in movies, the kind I haven’t had in years.
“Here, have some dinner. Being cooped up and starving like this is not healthy for anyone. You need this to get your energy back,” he tells me as he places the tray at the foot of my bed.
“Thanks,” I mumble, but don’t reach out for the food.
As if someone has an appetite in a situation like this.
“You aren’t gonna eat?” Hunter asks, about to make his way out.
I don't respond.
He returns to my side, pushing the tray towards me. “Punishing yourself and not eating isn’t going to help you, you know.”
I turn my face, not even wanting to look at the food on it. He sits down next to me, holding the plate up and cutting up a bite roughly with just a fork.
“Okay, if you won’t eat yourself, I’ll just have to feed you.” He brings the fork to my mouth.
“Stop it!” I yell, thwacking the plate away from his hand. It crashes on the floor, breaking into bits as I nick my finger on the knife that falls off it.
“Ouch! Look what you did now. Why can’t you just leave me alone!” I clutch my cut finger tightly in my hand.
Hunter grabs my injured hand and brings it to his lips.
“What are you—”
He cuts me off as he brings my finger to his lips, licking the blood off it. It’s just a small cut, and there’s only a small drop of blood, but he savors it.
He applies pressure to the cut with his tongue before removing my finger from his mouth and trailing a path of kisses down my hand. His blue eyes lock with mine as his soft lips gently move across the back of my hand.
My hand goes cold and I’m frozen. I can’t move, I can’t pull my hand back, but I also can’t get myself to push him away.
“Hunter,” I say, my voice barely a whisper as his touch begins feeling warmer with each passing moment.
“Lina…” he responds, and moves his lips up my arm until he’s at my neck. He pulls back and brings his face closer to mine as we stare into each other's eyes.
Our lips are inches apart, and for some godforsaken reason, I actually want him to come close.
I want him to kiss me.
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