Chapter 30 The Cage
The boys have stayed all day in shifts, unofficially, cycling in and out under the radar.
They act like it’s casual. Like it isn’t strange that four elite Blackmoore boys are spending the afternoon camped out on the floor of a girl’s room, swapping stories, arguing over which energy drink is actually poison, and flinging cards across the floor with deadly accuracy.
They stay. They make it feel normal.
But night comes. And with it, the restless itch under my skin.
I sit on the edge of my bed, fingers twisting in the hem of my hoodie, while the others talk in low tones near the window. It isn’t claustrophobia, it’s something deeper. Like if I stay still too long, he wins. Like every second I spend hiding means I’m still his.
I stand without thinking. Four sets of eyes snap toward me.
“I can’t sit here,” I say. “I need to move. Go somewhere. I don’t care where.”
Tex’s jaw ticks. He glances once at Jace, then back at the others.
Noah’s the first to nod. “Yeah. Okay.”
Luca straightens, a grin already forming. “I know just the place.”
“We all do,” Tex adds, voice low. “You’ll like it.”
I blink. “Wait—what?”
Noah is already pulling his phone out, tapping quickly. “Give us ten. We’ll meet back here.”
Luca’s halfway to the door. “Get dressed, pretty girl. We’re going out.”
“Out where?”
“You’ll see.” He winks, then disappears through the door.
Noah tosses me a soft smile and follows.
Tex pauses in the doorway. “We’ll make sure it’s clear. Just be ready.”
And then it’s just me and Jace.
He’s leaning against the bookshelf, arms folded, like he never once relaxed all day.
I look at him. “Aren’t you going to go change, too?”
He shakes his head once. “I can wait.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t offer more.
I shift, suddenly unsure. “Why you?”
Jace’s eyes meet mine. The space between us stretches tight. He sighs.
“Couldn’t risk leaving you alone with any of your admirers. What? Scared to be alone with me?”
I throw up my arms and huff. “Why are you even here?”
He pushes off the bookshelf, dropping his arms. He’s stiff.
“Well?” I ask as he continues to stare.
“I know who’s bankrolling Daniel.” His voice is low, like he’s trying to keep from spooking an animal.
My eyes widen. “How? My dad doesn’t even have an answer.”
His jaw flexes. “Well, Lucian doesn’t have access to my father’s servers like I do.”
My jaw drops. “We need to tell my dad! He needs—”
“No,” Jace barks, storming to me.
“What?” I breathe.
“We can’t be rash.” His eyes bore into mine. “My father has backup plans for his backup plans. We can’t let him know we’re on to him. We need solid proof. It’s just taking Noah time to track it down.”
I stare at him. “Your father released the monster who terrorized the last thirteen years of my life. You can’t expect me to just let this go.”
“I’m not saying that.” Jace runs his hands through his hair, then grabs my arms. “Just give me time. I know you have no reason to trust me but I know my father better than anyone. I’ll figure out a plan.”
I stare. This is probably the most unguarded I’ve seen him.
“Fine.” I lift my arms to push his hands off.
Jace takes a step back and I can see the wall being resurrected.
“You should get changed.”
I glance down. Hoodie. Pajama shorts. Bare feet. Right.
Jace moves toward the couch as I head to the closet.
I stare at my clothes like they might give me answers.
They didn’t say where we’re going. Didn’t say what to wear. What to expect.
Just to get dressed.
My first instinct is practicality, black leggings, my most broken-in black boots. Comfortable, flexible, nothing that can snag if things go sideways.
But something in me itches to be bold.
Not like a target. Not like prey.
But like Isobel Ashthorne.
I grab the sheer black top I’ve never worn, a little clingy, subtly glittered at the sleeves.
Underneath, a lace bralette that offers enough support and coverage in a pinch, but peeks just enough to make a statement.
I throw on my cropped leather jacket, the one with reinforced lining, hidden snap compartments stitched into the hem.
The jacket’s heavier than it looks. So am I.
I tuck two daggers into my boots, hilts barely visible above the laces. A third blade slips into the lining of my sleeve, secured by a magnetic catch. A fourth rests flat along the inside panel of my jacket, angled for easy reach.
Just in case. Not because I’m scared. Because I’m prepared.
I lean over the vanity counter and swipe on eyeliner, dark and sharp. Add a little shimmer at the inner corners. Nothing too heavy, just enough to feel like armor.
When I step back and catch my reflection, something shifts. Not pretty. Not delicate. Lethal.
I inhale. Straighten my spine. Then I step out into the living room.
All four of them are already there — changed and waiting.
Noah’s in dark jeans and a navy crewneck, hands shoved into his pockets. Tex has a black tee stretched across his arms, worn jeans and boots scuffed from use. Luca’s in some impossibly expensive leather jacket with dark jeans. Jace wears all black — fitted shirt, a coat slung over his shoulder.
The moment they see me, everything stills.
Luca’s brows shoot up. A low whistle slips out before he grins. “Well, damn.”
Tex doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t blink. His hands open and close at his sides.
Noah blinks then looks away, a slow flush climbing up his neck.
And Jace… Jace just stares.
There’s no chill in his gaze. His mouth opens slightly, then he shuts it again, jaw clenched.
“Too much?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious. I glance down, tug at the edge of my jacket.
Luca’s already shaking his head. “Nope. Absolutely not. Ten out of ten. Would risk arrest.”
“You’re not wearing that dagger sheath I gave you,” Noah says, eyeing my jacket with subtle approval. “But you did compensate. Clever.”
Tex grunts. “You ready?”
I nod once. “Where we going?”
Jace’s voice is the one that answers. Low. Certain.
“You’ll see.”
The car ride is quiet, but it hums with tension.
I keep trying to guess where we’re going, but the path doesn’t make sense. We take two different service roads, then turn down a gated drive I didn’t even know existed behind the east courtyard. Jace drives. The others joke around in the back, half-whispers and snorts of laughter.
But I can feel the shift.
The way Tex bounces his knee. The way Noah keeps checking the rearview mirror like he’s watching for a tail.
Even Luca’s grin is tighter than usual.
“Are we going to get arrested?” I ask, only half-joking.
Jace doesn’t look over. “Not unless you bring a weapon into the ring.”
“Wait, what?”
We stop.
A sleek steel door waits at the bottom of a narrow ramp, cut straight into the stone foundation. Jace punches in a code. The door slides open with a hiss.
Heat rushes up from the darkness.
Bass-heavy music thumps beneath the ground. Dim lighting flickers across rusted pipes and exposed brick. And voices, dozens of them, rise in a low roar that smells like sweat and blood and adrenaline.
Luca turns and grins. “Welcome to the Cage.”
Noah leans in close enough for only me to hear. “Guild tradition. Off-the-books. Every few weeks, they open the floor and let people settle scores or just show off.”
I blink. “And people bet on it?”
“Obscene amounts of money,” Luca says with a big smile.
Tex tugs off his jacket and tosses it over his shoulder. “Rules are simple,” he says. “No weapons. No killing. Everything else? Fair game.”
“And you’re fighting?” I ask, turning to look at him.
Tex shrugs like it’s nothing. But there’s a flicker in his eyes.
“Was already signed up before today. Figured I’d still go a round or two. Burn some things off. You okay with that?”
The truth is, I should feel tense. Nervous. Something. But instead, heat blooms under my skin.
I nod. “Yeah. I want to see.”
He studies me for half a second, then nods once. “Good.”
He plants a quick kiss on my lips before turning to head in a different direction.
I stand, blinking as he casually strolls away.
“Did he just…” Luca points at Tex, eyes wide.
“Indeed, he did.” Noah exhales heavily.
My brain is just coming back online. He kissed me in front of everyone.
“Come on, let’s go,” Jace growls.
The stairwell opens into a massive underground pit, a wide circle surrounded by steel rails and tiered stone benches.
Lights hang from chains above, throwing stark shadows across the floor.
A crowd is already gathered, some in uniform, some in sweatshirts and boots, all leaning in like they’re watching something sacred and violent unfold.
And in the center, the cage. No mats. Just concrete and bloodstains and the hum of something like an animal waiting to break free.
Noah finds us a spot along the lower railing. Luca disappears briefly to flirt with the person running the bets. Jace stands just behind me, eyes sweeping the room.
Tex reaches over his head and pulls off his shirt then steps through the gate.
Roaring cheers, whistles, and shouts of his name fill the space. Apparently, he’s known here.
His opponent is taller, broader, and cocky as hell. He smiles and taunts Tex.
Tex takes the first hit, a brutal jab to the jaw that turns his face but doesn’t move his body.
Then he smiles.
And unleashes hell. It isn’t elegant. It isn’t clean. But it’s devastating. Every punch lands with the kind of finality that says don’t get back up. His opponent does anyway. Twice. The third time, he stays down.
The match ends with a roar. I can’t stop staring. My heart is hammering, not from fear, but something wilder. Something hotter.
Tex in a fight is something else entirely.
It isn’t reckless. It’s controlled violence; every move is instinct.
Beside me, Luca whistles low. “Think he was showing off for you.”
I glance up at Jace, who’s still watching the ring.
“He always fight like that?”
“No,” Jace says.
The crowd is still buzzing from Tex’s win.
He steps out of the ring like he just went for a run — jaw tense, knuckles bloodied, sweat dripping down his spine. But his eyes find mine the second he crosses the gate. He says nothing, just gives the smallest nod like you saw that, and I nod back like hell yes, I did.
He disappears from view as he makes his way up to us. He grabs a towel from a crate near the wall and leans against the railing beside Luca, who hands him a bottle of water without looking.
“Who’s next?” Noah asks, glancing toward the ring.
There’s a pause.
“I’ll go,” Jace says.
Three heads turn.
Even Luca blinks. “You sure?”
“Have some things to work off.” He’s already pulling off his coat, folding it neatly over the railing beside me. His black shirt fits too well. His sleeves roll up in one smooth motion. The holster on his hip is unclipped and passed to Noah, who takes it wordlessly.
Jace steps toward the ring with that slow, unhurried stride like he isn’t walking into a fight, but into a meeting he fully intends to dominate. My breath catches before I even realize why. Because this isn’t like watching Tex.
This isn’t heat. It’s chill. Calculated. Quiet. Lethal.
“Who’s he up against?” I ask.
Tex gives a tight shrug. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Why?”
“Because no one beats Jace in the Cage.”
Noah nods. “He doesn’t go in often. But when he does…”
“It’s always good,” Luca finishes, watching the pit with a hungry gaze. Like he’s ready to devour the violence Jace is about to bring.
Jace steps into the ring and the noise changes.
It doesn’t spike, it drops. Like the crowd knows better than to scream at a loaded gun.
His opponent is already in the ring, broad, heavily inked, cocky in that I think I’m the main character kind of way. He grins when he sees Jace and rolls his neck like this is going to be fun.
It isn’t. The second the match starts, Jace doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t waste energy. Doesn’t circle or bait.
He strikes.
Fast. Precise. No flair. No drama.
Every movement is exact. Controlled. Like he’s mapped the entire fight in his head before he stepped into the ring.
His opponent goes for a haymaker. Jace slips it like smoke and buries an elbow into his ribs so hard the man stumbles a few steps before recovering.
But Jace doesn’t let him. He’s already there, a knee to the gut, a palm to the throat, a sweep that drops him like a puppet whose strings have just snapped.
The guy tries to get up. Big mistake.
Jace steps in again, heel slamming down an inch from the guy’s head. Not a hit, a threat. A warning.
Stay down.
The crowd is dead silent. Luca’s eyes shine with mirth. The match is called. And Jace just… steps back.
Like he wasn’t one second away from shattering someone’s spine.
He wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm, breath steady, jaw clenched. No gloating. No emotion. Just that calm, unreadable mask.
Heat rushes through my body. Maybe I’m more messed up than I thought. Because his violence is exciting.
He leaves the ring and his eyes lock with mine.
I don’t move. Because suddenly, I understand something I didn’t before.
Tex fights because he’s burning. Jace fights because he can.
Because power isn’t the tool, it’s the baseline. And he only shows it when he chooses to.
He stops in front of me. Still breathing a little hard. Still glistening with sweat.
“You should be careful staring like that…”
“Like what?” My voice is breathier than I would like.
“Like you like what you see.” His muscles flex, every vein popping in his arms. “I might take it as a challenge.”