Chapter 20 – Bound in Chains

The night stretched endlessly, its silence pressing against my skin like a second layer of suffocation. After Celine’s visit, the air inside Alexander’s mansion felt heavier, thick with unspoken words and dangerous possibilities.

I sat curled up on the bed, knees drawn to my chest, staring at the locked door. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t sure if I would even leave if I could.

That was the most terrifying part.

I wasn’t a prisoner in chains, yet I felt chained. Not just by him—but by something inside me I couldn’t understand.

I heard the door unlock.

A cold shiver ran through me, but I didn’t move. I knew who it was.

Alexander stepped inside, his presence consuming the space. He didn’t speak at first, just leaned against the doorframe, watching me.

“You haven’t eaten,” he finally said.

I swallowed. “Not hungry.”

His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes darkened. “You don’t get to starve yourself, little one.”

Something about the way he said it sent a chill down my spine. Like my body was his to control, like my survival was only because he allowed it.

“I don’t belong to you,” I whispered, gripping the sheets.

His lips curled into something cold, something sharp.

“Don’t you?”

I hated the way my body reacted, how my breath hitched at the quiet menace in his tone.

He took slow, deliberate steps toward me. The closer he got, the harder it was to breathe.

“You can lie to yourself all you want,” he murmured, reaching out to tilt my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “But you do belong to me.”

I clenched my fists. “You can’t own a person.”

He chuckled—low, dark, like I had just said something foolish. “I already do.”

Anger burned in my chest. “I hate you.”

His grip tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over my lips. “You say that,” he mused, tilting his head, “but you’re still here.”

I trembled, my body betraying me in the worst way possible.

Because he was right.

I was still here.

And I didn’t know if I even wanted to escape anymore.

The realization shattered something inside me.

I had fought so hard, had sworn to never let him break me.

But what if he already had?

He must have seen it in my eyes because his smirk softened—just barely.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his fingers trailing down my jaw, over the rapid pulse at my throat. “And I don’t let go of what’s mine.”

My chest rose and fell unevenly. “What are you going to do with me?”

His expression darkened, something dangerous flickering in his gaze.

“Whatever I want.”

And I knew, in that moment, that there was no turning back.

Not anymore.

-----

The weight of his words settled deep in my chest, suffocating, unrelenting.

Whatever I want.

The room was too small, too quiet, the air between us charged with something dangerous. I should have pushed him away, should have screamed, fought, done anything to break whatever twisted connection had formed between us.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I sat there, frozen, my pulse hammering against my ribs as Alexander’s fingers lingered on my skin.

“You want to run,” he murmured, his voice almost amused. “But you won’t.”

I swallowed hard. “You don’t know me.”

He laughed softly, darkly. “Oh, little one, I know you better than you know yourself.”

Something inside me snapped. “You don’t own me.” My voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but it was the only fight I had left.

His expression shifted—still unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes. Something dangerous.

“You keep saying that,” he mused, stepping even closer. “Yet you let me touch you.” His fingers traced a slow path down my arm, barely skimming my skin. “You let me keep you.”

I shuddered at the sensation, at the quiet possessiveness in his voice.

“I didn’t have a choice,” I whispered.

He tilted his head, studying me like a puzzle he had already solved. “Didn’t you?”

His words sliced through me because deep down, I knew there was truth in them.

Somewhere along the way, I had stopped fighting as hard.

And that terrified me more than anything else.

He reached into his pocket, pulling something out—a key.

I stared at it, my breath catching.

“If you want to leave,” he said, holding it up between us, “take it.”

I blinked, my mind racing. Was this a trick? A test?

My fingers twitched, but I didn’t move.

Alexander smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

I hated him.

I hated the way he knew.

I hated the way my body betrayed me, the way my heart slammed against my ribs as he leaned in, his breath warm against my skin.

“Say it,” he whispered.

I clenched my fists. “Say what?”

His lips brushed against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “Say that you’re mine.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “No.”

He chuckled. “Not yet, then.”

He straightened, slipping the key back into his pocket like he had never truly intended to give it to me. And maybe he hadn’t. Maybe it had always just been another game, another way to prove that I wasn’t really free.

I exhaled shakily, my body taut with something I didn’t want to name.

Alexander turned toward the door, but before he left, he glanced back at me.

“Don’t forget, little one,” he murmured. “Even if you run… I’ll always find you.”

And with that, he was gone.

I sat there in the deafening silence, my heart still pounding, my hands shaking.

I should have reached for that key. I should have.

But I didn’t.

And I had no idea what that meant anymore.

---

I stayed there for what felt like hours, staring at the door he had walked through, my mind a mess of thoughts I didn’t want to acknowledge.

The key.

He had held it out to me, as if offering me freedom, as if taunting me with the very thing I had once sworn to take the moment I got the chance.

But I hadn’t moved.

I couldn’t.

My fingers curled into the soft sheets, my nails digging into the fabric as frustration bubbled up inside me. Why didn’t I take it? Why did my body refuse to listen to my mind?

I hated this.

I hated how much power he had over me, how easily he got under my skin, how his words lingered even after he was gone.

"Say that you’re mine."

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head as if I could physically push his voice out of my thoughts.

No.

I wasn’t his.

I would never be his.

The door creaked open again, and my breath caught. But it wasn’t Alexander this time.

It was Margaret, the housekeeper.

She held a tray of food, her gaze flicking to me with quiet disapproval. I knew she didn’t like me. Or maybe she just didn’t understand me.

“You need to eat,” she said, placing the tray on the nightstand.

“I’m not hungry,” I murmured, my voice hoarse.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “You say that every day. But he won’t let you starve, you know.”

I swallowed, looking away.

I knew.

Alexander wouldn’t let me waste away. Not because he cared, but because I was his possession. And he took care of what was his.

Margaret sighed, as if debating whether to say something else. Then, after a moment, she placed something next to the tray.

A single silver key.

I stiffened.

Not the same one Alexander had taunted me with—but a key, nonetheless.

My eyes darted to hers, searching for some kind of explanation, but she only gave me a knowing look.

“I wasn’t supposed to,” she murmured, so quietly I almost didn’t hear her. “But I’m not blind. No girl should be kept in a cage, no matter how golden it is.”

My throat tightened.

For the first time in what felt like forever, a flicker of hope sparked in my chest.

A real chance.

A real way out.

I reached for the key slowly, my fingers trembling as I picked it up, the cool metal pressing against my palm.

Margaret didn’t say another word. She just turned and left, the door clicking shut behind her.

I stared at the key, my heart hammering.

Could I do it?

Could I really escape this time?

Or was I already too far gone?

---

To Be Continued…