Chapter 22 – KADE
KADE
The text from Cyrus comes through while I'm in the middle of "explaining" to Tony Fairfax with my fists why breaking into someone's home to "teach them a lesson" about parking too close to his Lambo makes him a special kind of wannabe gangster that requires immediate correction.
Especially considering he did that shit while working for me.
I'm fine with my men busting in heads. It's a job requirement, really. Complete psychopath? Put him on the payroll.
But the one thing I don't fuck with? Someone who throws around the weight of my name on petty bullshit.
CYRUS
Princess is secure. In her room.
I glance at Tony, currently zip-tied to his own dining room chair with piss staining his khakis, and decide I've explained enough.
Tank can handle the rest.
One look at my brother standing there with the tattoos that cover damn near everything up to his jawline and arms that could be classed as lethal weapons folded over his chest, and most people find clarity with more effectiveness than a decade of therapy.
"I got shit to do," I tell Tank, already moving toward the door. "Make sure our friend understands the parking situation is resolved."
Tank grunts his acknowledgment and I don't bother sticking around to see how he drives the point home.
My mind's already miles away, picturing Ellie in that pink room, plotting her next escape attempt with that stubborn set to her jaw I know so well.
The rage continues simmering just under my skin. She really thought she could just walk out? Test me on day fucking one like I'm some soft touch who'll let her do whatever she wants because she's got pretty eyes and a smart mouth?
Nah.
She wants to play games? I'll teach her exactly what kind of games we play now.
My Lambo eats up the distance between Tony's place and the warehouse district.
The club's already starting to fill up even though it's barely past noon on a Saturday.
Degenerates don't keep normal hours, and neither do we.
I bypass the main entrance, heading straight for the back offices where we conduct actual business.
The bass shakes through the walls, making my teeth vibrate.
Inside, bodies writhe on the dance floor, most of those fuckers half-naked and strung out, lost in whatever chemical paradise they've bought tonight.
Cages hang from the ceiling, dancers moving inside them like exotic birds in gilded prisons.
I barely even notice that shit anymore.
But one cage in particular catches my eye.
It's smaller than the others, decorative more than functional. Black metal with intricate scrollwork, hanging in the corner like art. It would barely fit a person. They'd have to curl up, stay on their knees.
Perfect.
"Dante!" I flag down one of my guys, the one who handles logistics when we need shit moved. He's built like a linebacker with a brain that actually functions, which makes him useful. "See that cage?"
He follows my gaze, eyebrows rising. "The small one?"
"Yeah. I want it delivered to my place. Today. Within the hour."
"But I was already—"
I pull out a roll of hundreds, peel off five without counting. "You got a problem?"
The bills disappear into his pocket faster than lightning. "No sir. Where do you want it set up?"
"I'll figure that out when I get there. Just get it done."
He nods and disappears into the crowd, already pulling out his phone. I turn to leave, but first, I look back at that cage, imagining Ellie inside it. Curled up, leashed, those green eyes defiant even in submission.
My cock throbs and I adjust myself. Can't walk into the house with a raging hard-on.
The drive home feels longer than it should, traffic crawling like the universe is conspiring to test my patience. My fingers drum against the steering wheel.
One, two, three, four, five.
Fuck.
Even I'm doing it now, her nervous habit bleeding into my own patterns like she's still under my skin after all these years.
The house looks peaceful when I pull up. Like we're a normal household instead of four criminals and their captive princess.
Inside, Jinx sprawls on the couch with a book. Some philosophy bullshit he pretends to understand to look deep. I wouldn't be surprised if he has his phone hidden in the pages.
Why is there a fucking leaf in his hair?
"She still upstairs?" I ask, not bothering with pleasantries.
"Hasn't moved." He doesn't look up from his book. "Cy's in his room doing whatever cyber-wizard shit he does."
"You mean you let her out of your sight?"
Now he does look up, blue eyes sharpening as they hold mine. "I've been sitting here for two hours. Ellie is not getting past me without me knowing."
"She got past all of us this morning."
His jaw tightens. "You're the one who wanted to see if she'd test us."
I study him, taking in the defensive posture, the guilt lurking behind that pretty face. "The fuck did you do?"
He stares at me, and his silence is answer enough. There's only one reason he'd be looking at me like he got caught with his hand in the candy jar.
"You fucked her?" I snarl, across the room before I even realize it.
"What? No!" he shouts, leaping off the couch like his life depends on it. And it does. "No, of course not! I mean, I thought about it, obviously, but I didn't—"
"Don't." I hold up a hand. "I don't care about the almost. I care about the fact that you lost fucking control."
"She was—" He stops, runs a hand through his hair, dislodging more leaves. "Fuck, Kade. You didn't see her. The way she looked at me. It was like she wanted—"
"You fucking idiot," I snarl again, loud enough to make him jolt. "She wanted to get under your skin. Wanted to see if she could make you forget the plan. And it fucking worked."
"Whatever. It won't happen again."
"No. It won't." I nod toward the stairs. "Dante's bringing something by in an hour. Let him in, show him to my room."
"What kind of something?" he asks, recovering from the kicked puppy energy as soon as his curiosity is piqued.
"The kind that's going to teach our princess a lesson about testing boundaries."
Apparently, my men could use a refresher, too.
His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn't ask more questions. Guess he's learning.
The stairs creak under my boots, each step bringing me closer to her. Closer to the confrontation that's been building since she walked into our throne room asking for death.
Her stepfather's death, specifically.
But looking at her on her knees like that, I wondered if she was asking for her own. If she wanted us to destroy her the way she destroyed us.
Her door's closed. I don't knock. This is my house, and she's mine, and knocking suggests she has privacy rights she signed away three days ago.
The door swings open to reveal Ellie on her bed, phone in hand, scrolling through something with single-minded focus. She looks up when I enter, and I watch her expression shift through several emotions.
Surprise. Wariness. Contempt.
Contempt is my favorite.
"Kade." She sets the phone down, stands slowly like she's facing down a wild animal. Smart girl. "I was just—"
"Texting Heather?" I move into the room, closing the door behind me with. "Telling her all about your new living situation?"
"No, I—" She stops, realizing the trap, and those emerald eyes harden into actual stone. Oh, she settled on contempt, alright. "You're reading my messages."
"No, Cyrus is reading your messages." I hold out my hand. "Phone. Now."
Her fingers tighten around it.
"I can do whatever the fuck I want, Princess," I remind her, waggling my fingers. "That's what you agreed to." I step closer and she backs up until her legs hit the bed. "Are you gonna make me take it from you?"
The defiance in her eyes cracks. She's weighing her options, trying to figure out if fighting is worth it. Finally, she slaps the phone into my palm with enough force to sting.
"There. Happy?"
"Ecstatic." I pocket it, watching her jaw clench. "You lost your phone privileges in the house. Along with your freedom to leave the house unsupervised. Congratulations, you've been demoted from pet to stray."
"A stray?" The word comes out sharp. "What the fuck does that even mean?"
"Means you haven't learned your place yet." I pull out the leash I've been saving for just such an occasion. A five-foot-long chain with clips on both ends. The kind you'd use to secure a dog that bites. "But you will."
Her eyes go wide as she processes what I'm holding. "You're not serious."
"Deadly." I advance on her, and she scrambles backward onto the bed, but there's nowhere to go. I'm between her and the door, and we both know it. "Get on your knees."
"Kade—" she grits out.
"Kneel. Now. Or do you need me to make you?"
The threat carries weight. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, breathing shallow with panic or arousal or both. Her eyes search mine for some sign I'm bluffing, that this is just another test.
It's not.
Slowly, she slides off the bed and onto her knees on the carpet. The position makes my cock throb, but I shove the arousal down. This isn't about sex. This is making her understand that running has consequences.
"Good girl." I move closer, the chain clinking softly in my hands. I'm acutely fucking aware of how that phrase makes her shiver. Interesting. "Now stay still."
I clip one end to the collar at her throat, the metal clicking into place with a satisfying snikt. Her pulse jumps beneath my fingers, and I can smell her fear mixing with something sweeter that tells me she's as fucked up about this as I am.
"What are you doing?" Her voice comes out smaller and breathier than she probably wants it to be.
"Teaching you." I step back, holding the other end of the chain.
I clip the chain to my belt loop, leashing her to me.
"This is insane," she breathes, but her eyes are dilated, pupils blown wide.