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Caged In The Echo

Prologue

I wrote about monsters for a living.

Unmasked them. Hunted them with my words. Exposed their names, dragged them into the light. But the worst monsters don’t hide in alleyways or basements.

They wear masks of protection. They watch you sleep.

I didn’t know he’d been reading everything I wrote. That each article was a breadcrumb, leading him straight to me.

And I didn’t know…

That when he finally found me, I wouldn’t run.

Chapter 1: The Man in the Wires

I had been getting the emails for weeks. Untraceable. Encrypted. Always one line.

> “You're not safe, Riven.”

“They’re watching you now.”

“Let me help you before they take you.”

I ignored them. Paranoia came with the territory. When you write about human trafficking networks, corrupt politicians, and black-market deals, you attract lunatics.

But this one was different. The way he knew things no one else could—like the coffee stain on my second-hand sofa, or the fact that I never use the front door. It was invasive. Intricate. Personal.

And then one night, the power went out.

No storm. No warning. Just silence.

My laptop flickered back on seconds later—no WiFi, no apps. Just a black screen with three words in white text:

> “I’m here, Riven.”

I stumbled back, my pulse hammering. I reached for my phone, but the signal was dead.

A knock on the door.

Soft. Deliberate.

He stepped inside like he owned the silence. Dressed in black from collar to boots. Sharp jaw, colder eyes. A storm in human skin.

He didn’t smile when he spoke.

> “I told you they’d come for you. But now they won’t. Because I did first.”

I should’ve screamed. Fought. I didn’t.

Because something inside me recognized him.

Not as a savior.

But as the next cage I was going to live in.

---

Chapter 2: The Cage with a Voice

He didn’t touch me. Not yet. He just watched. As if waiting for me to understand something I hadn’t yet put together.

"Who are you?" I demanded. My voice cracked, but I kept my eyes on his.

"Kael," he said. Just that. No last name. No explanation. Like he thought that was enough.

It wasn’t.

"What do you want from me?"

He tilted his head. "To keep you breathing. That’s step one."

He walked past me, fingers brushing the dusty windowsill. "They were planning to take you tonight. In a van. Blacked out. You wouldn’t have seen it coming."

I stared at him. My chest tightened.

"How do you know this?"

He met my gaze again. "Because I used to work with them. Before I turned them into prey."

---

Chapter 3: The Safehouse

Kael's so-called safehouse was a fortress disguised as a warehouse. Cold steel doors, coded locks, cameras at every angle.

He didn’t restrain me. Didn’t lock me in a room. But the unspoken message was clear:

I wasn’t going anywhere.

I spent the first night on a stiff leather couch, listening to every footstep. Kael worked in the shadows, typing lines of code like he was orchestrating a digital war.

"What do you even do?"

"I tear apart the people who sell others. One hard drive at a time."

He looked up, and for a second, the darkness in him seemed... righteous.

"Why me?" I asked.

Kael didn’t hesitate. "Because you wrote about them. And they never forget who exposes them."

Chapter 1

🖤 Introduction to Caged in the Echo

In a world where monsters don’t always wear masks, Riven Ashford, a journalist known for exposing human trafficking rings and corrupt elites, finds himself hunted by the very darkness he writes about. Paranoia becomes reality when a man who’s been watching him for months steps from the shadows—not to hurt him, but to own him.

\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_

Kael Voss is no savior. A former enforcer turned rogue vigilante, Kael has been tracking Riven not just to protect him—but because he’s obsessed. He sees the trauma in Riven, the fire buried beneath fear, and he wants it all.

When Kael intervenes the night Riven is targeted for abduction, he offers only two options: stay and vanish forever… or leave everything behind and follow him into a world of secrecy, violence, and control.

As the line between captor and protector blurs, Riven must confront the truth:

He may not be in chains—

But he’s never been so caged.

Chapter 2: The Man Who Found Me

The storm outside wasn’t real, but it sounded like one.

Thunder didn’t echo, but my walls shook. Lightning didn’t flash, but the screen on my laptop blinked twice, then went black.

I stared at the white words glowing on the dark screen like they were bleeding from my soul.

> "I'm here, Riven."

My breath locked in my throat. I blinked, thinking maybe it was some malware glitch, a prank, a mistake. But I knew better.

The emails started three weeks ago. Anonymous. One line. Always watching. Always warning.

> “They're coming for you.”

“You wrote too much.”

“Don’t open the door.”

But this time, he wasn’t writing from the shadows.

This time… he was at the door.

A knock.

Three slow, deliberate taps.

I reached for my phone. No signal. Of course. The Wi-Fi was dead too. Everything was. The building's old backup generator should’ve kicked in, but it hadn’t.

The knock came again. Not loud. Not violent. Almost gentle.

But it felt like the sound had teeth.

I swallowed hard and walked slowly to the door, heart hammering. My hand hovered over the knob. I couldn’t see anything through the peephole—someone had blacked it out. Probably earlier. Probably days ago. Maybe weeks.

Another knock.

This time, followed by a whisper.

“Riven... open the door.”

His voice was smooth, low, patient. It made my skin crawl and my chest tighten at the same time.

He knew my name.

He always had.

I shouldn’t have opened it.

But I did.

The moment I cracked it, a gloved hand slid against the frame and pushed it wide.

He stepped inside like the air belonged to him.

He was tall. All black. A fitted coat, black boots, no umbrella despite the rain. Water dripped from his collarbone down his throat.

But his face...

His face was carved from control. High cheekbones, sharp jaw, lips like they were made to say lies softly. His eyes — almost black — burned with something unreadable. Not lust. Not rage. Not even hate.

Possession.

He shut the door behind him without asking.

I stepped back.

“What do you want?” My voice cracked.

He tilted his head slightly, like he was studying me. Like he already knew what I’d say.

“I told you,” he said quietly. “I came before they could.”

I blinked.

“Them?” I whispered.

He nodded. “The ones who took the others. The ones you wrote about.”

I froze. I hadn’t published that article yet. No one knew the draft even existed.

“You… hacked me.”

He smiled faintly. It wasn’t friendly.

“I protected you.”

“You’ve been stalking me.”

He didn’t deny it.

“I watched. Listened. Only to make sure they wouldn’t get to you first.”

“You broke into my apartment.”

“You never changed the lock.”

He was right. I hadn’t.

I was too used to surviving with shortcuts.

Too used to pretending I was safe.

“Why now?” I asked. “Why show up tonight?”

He walked past me, slowly, calmly, like he belonged there. His eyes scanned the room like a soldier taking inventory.

“Because the van was already outside.”

I stiffened.

He glanced toward the rain-fogged window. “They were minutes away from taking you. Blacked-out SUV. No plates. Eastern route to the docks.”

My throat dried. I didn’t even know what to say.

“How do you know all this?”

“I used to be one of them.”

My stomach twisted. “So what… you turned good?”

“No,” he said flatly. “I turned on them.”

He moved to my desk, his gloved fingers brushing over my scattered notes. The very ones detailing the trafficking ring hidden under a local tech conglomerate — the story I was going to publish anonymously.

He turned to me.

“You got too close. You weren’t just writing about them. You were naming them.”

I clenched my fists. “Because someone has to.”

“I agree.” He stepped toward me. “But you weren’t prepared to vanish.”

He was right.

I had backup drives, escape routes, burner phones — all the illusion of protection. But if they had gotten in… it would’ve taken seconds to make me disappear.

Like they’d done to others.

“Why me?” I asked again. “Why save me?”

His expression shifted. Something darker crept into his face.

“I read everything you wrote,” he said. “Every word. You don’t just hunt monsters. You understand them.”

“I don’t—”

“You do,” he cut me off, stepping closer. “You write like someone who’s been in a cage. And still carries the key.”

My voice dropped. “And what… you think you’re my lock?”

“I think I’m the only one who knows what kind of prison you’re walking into.”

I stared at him. At the way he stood — not like a villain, not like a hero — but like a storm that didn’t care what it destroyed, as long as it felt something again.

I hated him.

And yet I couldn’t look away.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

He smirked, like he was surprised it took me this long.

“Kael.”

“Just Kael?”

“The name they gave me before I burned the system down.”

He turned back toward the door.

“You have ten minutes to pack,” he said. “No electronics. No IDs. Just the essentials.”

I didn’t move.

Kael looked back at me, eyes narrowing.

“If you stay, they’ll take you tonight. You won’t even see the van.”

“And if I go with you?”

He walked back up to me, lowering his head so we were eye to eye.

“Then I own your freedom.”

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