Chapter 11 – A Caged Bird

Days blurred into nights.

I lost track of time, trapped in a world where my freedom was nothing more than a distant memory. There were no windows in my room, only tall, suffocating walls that kept me locked away. The only light came from the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, its golden glow casting long shadows across the marble floor.

The bed was soft, too soft, as if mocking me. The expensive silk sheets felt foreign against my skin, reminding me that I didn’t belong here.

Nothing here belonged to me.

Not my choices. Not my body. Not even my own name when it left Alexander’s lips, twisted with amusement.

“Evelyn.”

The sound of his voice sent a shiver down my spine.

I turned my head slowly, forcing myself to meet his gaze. He stood in the doorway, looking effortlessly composed as always. Dark eyes sharp, lips curled in a smirk that made my stomach twist.

He leaned against the frame, arms crossed. “You look like you’re thinking too much.”

I stayed silent.

It was something I had learned quickly—silence was safer.

Alexander didn’t like pointless conversations. He liked reactions. Emotion. Defiance. He wanted to see me struggle.

So I refused to give him what he wanted.

But he was patient.

He stepped inside, his movements slow and deliberate. The air shifted as he approached, bringing with him the scent of something rich and intoxicating. A mixture of expensive cologne and something darker, something purely him.

He stopped in front of me.

I didn’t move.

He tilted his head, studying me the way a predator studies its prey. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

I swallowed. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

His smirk deepened. “I want a lot of things, Evelyn.”

I hated the way he said my name.

Like he owned it. Like he owned me.

I lifted my chin, trying to ignore the way my heart pounded against my ribs. “Then maybe you should focus on something else instead of wasting your time here.”

Something flickered in his gaze. Amusement? Annoyance? It was always hard to tell with him.

But then—

Click.

The sound of the door locking.

My stomach dropped.

Alexander took another step closer, and I instinctively stepped back.

A mistake.

Because in that moment, I realized exactly what he was doing.

He was testing me.

Pushing me.

Waiting to see how much I could take before I cracked.

I clenched my fists. “What do you want?”

Alexander exhaled a slow, amused breath. “I think you already know.”

I did.

And that terrified me.

His hand lifted, fingers brushing against my chin. A soft touch, almost gentle—if not for the cruel glint in his eyes.

“I want to see what happens when you stop pretending you’re not afraid.”

I wasn’t pretending.

I was afraid.

But I refused to show it.

So I forced my voice to stay steady. “I’m not afraid of you.”

His smirk widened. “Liar.”

The word was barely a whisper, but it sent a sharp chill down my spine.

Because he was right.

I was lying.

And we both knew it.

I could feel the power radiating off him, the quiet danger lurking beneath the surface. He was a man who was used to control, used to getting exactly what he wanted.

And right now…

I wasn’t sure if I was something he wanted to break or something he wanted to keep.

Maybe both.

The realization sent a wave of nausea through me.

I needed to get out of here.

I needed to run.

But there was nowhere to go.

Nowhere to hide.

I was trapped.

And the worst part?

I was starting to forget what it felt like to be free.

----

I stared at Alexander, my heart pounding so hard it echoed in my ears. His fingers lingered against my chin, a featherlight touch, but it carried a weight that made it impossible to breathe.

I wanted to pull away. To shove him back and demand that he stay the hell away from me.

But I didn’t.

Because I knew it wouldn’t change anything.

Instead, I forced my body to stay still, my expression blank.

He was waiting for a reaction.

A sign of fear.

A crack in my resolve.

I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

But it was hard.

Because no matter how much I tried to ignore it, the truth was right in front of me.

He enjoyed this.

The power. The control. The way he could make me feel so small with just a look, just a touch.

And the worst part?

A part of me knew that this was only the beginning.

Alexander tilted his head, studying me like I was some puzzle he was trying to solve. “You’ve gotten better at hiding it.”

I swallowed. “Hiding what?”

His fingers traced the line of my jaw before he finally pulled back. “Your fear.”

I felt my shoulders relax, just slightly, as he stepped away.

But it wasn’t over.

It never was.

He walked to the small table in the corner of the room, where a tray of untouched food sat waiting. My meals were always delivered like this—without a word, without a choice.

Eat or starve.

It was up to me.

But tonight, I hadn’t touched a single bite.

Alexander picked up a piece of bread, tearing off a small piece before popping it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, watching me the entire time.

“You didn’t eat.”

I crossed my arms. “I wasn’t hungry.”

A lie.

My stomach had been twisting in knots for hours, the hunger gnawing at me, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat.

Not when I felt like I was being suffocated from the inside out.

Not when I knew that every single thing in this house was just another way for him to control me.

Alexander hummed, his expression unreadable. “I don’t like wasting food.”

I scoffed before I could stop myself. “That’s what you’re worried about? Food?”

His lips twitched. “Would you rather I worry about you?”

I froze.

Because for a second—just a second—there was something different in his tone.

Something almost… genuine.

I hated it.

I hated the way it made my stomach twist, the way it made my chest feel too tight.

So I did the only thing I could.

I looked him straight in the eye and said, “I’d rather you let me go.”

The air in the room shifted.

A slow, creeping silence settled between us.

Alexander placed the bread back on the tray, his movements eerily calm. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

My pulse quickened. “Get what?”

He turned toward me, stepping closer again.

One step.

Two.

Until he was right in front of me, so close that I could feel the warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne.

And then he leaned in.

His voice was low, smooth, dangerous.

“You’re mine, Evelyn.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

Not from desire.

Not from anything other than pure, suffocating dread.

Because in that moment, I realized something terrifying.

He meant it.

Every word.

To him, I wasn’t just some girl he had taken.

I was something he owned.

Something he wouldn’t let go.

No matter how much I begged.

No matter how much I fought.

I wasn’t a prisoner.

I was a possession.

A caged bird with nowhere left to fly.

And Alexander?

He was the one who held the key.

----

I sucked in a shaky breath, forcing my body to stay still.

If I showed weakness, he’d use it against me. That’s what he did. That’s what he always did.

His words echoed in my head.

"You’re mine."

A chill crawled down my spine, settling deep in my bones.

I wanted to scream. To fight. To tell him he was wrong.

But I couldn’t.

Because deep down, I knew that in this moment, in this place—he was right.

I was his.

Not by choice.

Not by love.

But by force.

By the invisible chains he had wrapped around me from the moment he took me.

I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as I could muster. "You don’t own me."

Alexander didn’t laugh.

He didn’t smirk.

He simply tilted his head, studying me in that way that made me feel like a caged animal.

"Is that so?"

I clenched my fists. "Yes."

His gaze flickered to my hands, his eyes darkening slightly. Not with anger, but with something else. Something unreadable.

Then, without a word, he reached for my wrist.

I yanked my arm back instinctively, but he was faster.

His fingers wrapped around my wrist, his grip firm but not painful.

Not yet.

"You say I don’t own you," he murmured, his voice calm, almost thoughtful. "But tell me, Evelyn… If I let go right now, what will you do?"

My breathing hitched.

Because we both knew the answer.

Nothing.

I couldn’t do anything.

I had nowhere to run.

No one to call for help.

No way out.

And he knew it.

Alexander slowly loosened his grip, but he didn’t let go completely. His thumb brushed against my skin, a mockery of tenderness. "See? You’re still here."

A lump formed in my throat.

Not because he was right.

But because I hated that he was right.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "That doesn’t mean I belong to you."

His lips curled into a small, unreadable smile. "No?"

His grip tightened again—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me of his strength. Enough to remind me that if he wanted to, he could break me in half with little effort.

But he wouldn’t.

Breaking me wasn’t what he wanted.

He wanted something worse.

He wanted me to accept this.

To accept him.

His fingers trailed up my arm, slow, deliberate. "Tell me, Evelyn," he murmured. "If I don’t own you… then why are you still afraid of me?"

I held my breath.

Because he knew.

He could see it.

The fear. The hesitation. The way my body tensed every time he was near.

And worst of all?

He liked it.