Chapter 24: A Cage Within a Cage

The flight deck of the destroyer was plated in a cold, slate-gray mist as the dawn crawled higher. The wind, relentless and biting, carried the acrid perfume of scorched ozone and metallic blood, leaving tiny crystals of salt clinging to Skylar’s eyelashes like frozen tears.

Around them, the sea belonged to the monsters. Six nuclear submarines sat like obsidian leviathans on the surface, their radar arrays rotating with predatory slowness, scanning for any flicker of defiance. The thirty Black Hawks were lined up like a silent funeral procession, their rotors still radiating a shimmering heat haze that smelled of burnt fuel and desperation.

Skylar stood at the base of the boarding ramp, her bare feet numb against the freezing steel. She pulled Sebastian’s trench coat tighter around her, the collar turned up to hide the fresh, dark bruises Landon had branded onto her neck. The wind whipped the heavy fabric around her legs, snapping like a black flag that refused to be lowered in surrender. The bite mark on her thigh throbbed—a rhythmic, searing ache that felt as though Landon’s teeth were still sinking into her skin with every step she took.

Ten paces away, Landon Voss waited.

He was the picture of billionaire arrogance, hands shoved casually into the pockets of his bespoke suit. The titanium chain—the very leash he had used to break her—was now looped around his fingers, swaying like a captive viper. At the end of it, the blood-stained platinum ring caught the morning light, reflecting a cold, mocking glint.

Behind him lay the carpet of red—the mercenaries he had slaughtered just to prove a point.

He raised his wine glass in a silent, lethal salute. His voice crackled through the comms, smooth as silk and sharp as a razor. "Little Rose... welcome to my second cage."

Skylar felt the warmth drain from her body. She whirled around to look at Sebastian. Her brother’s silver-gray eyes were dark with a helpless, simmering rage. Even with his left hand a mangled ruin of bandages and ice, he stood as a physical barrier between her and the world—a wall of muscle and bone ready to catch a bullet at a moment's notice.

"When did he mobilize the subs?" she whispered, her voice a fragile thread in the wind.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a suppressed snarl. "At the latest... the very second you locked him into that chair."

Skylar closed her eyes, and the bitter taste of defeat filled her mouth.

Every move she had made—the shark-bait counterattack, the "rescue" of Summer, the triumphant exit—it had all been a play. Landon had been the director, allowing her to believe she had won, letting her savor the intoxicating flavor of her "second drop of blood" just so he could watch the light leave her eyes when he snatched it away. He had waited for the exact moment of her greatest triumph to drop a much larger net.

Through the earpiece, Landon’s voice chuckled, a dark, vibrating sound. "Thirty Black Hawks. A beautiful fleet, Skye. A shame they belong to me now."

As the words left his lips, the thirty pilots raised their hands. The red LED rings on their wrists began a frantic countdown: 00:00:29... 00:00:28...

The helicopters’ onboard computers overrode manual control. Autopilot engaged with a mechanical hiss, turning the fleet toward the Zumwalt in a synchronized display of absolute power.

Sebastian’s pistol was out in a heartbeat, the muzzle jammed against the skull of the nearest pilot. "Break formation! Now!"

The pilot didn't flinch. He gave a hollow, haunted smile, showing the steel needle embedded in his wristband. "Thirty seconds ago, a neurotoxin was injected into our systems. If we don't land as directed, we’re all dead. I’m sorry, Chairman."

Skylar stared at the countdowns, her nails digging into her palms until she drew blood.

She had lost again.

It wasn't a loss of firepower; it was a loss of strategy. Landon had anticipated her every move. He had predicted her counter-kill, her escape route, and most importantly, the exact moment her ego would create a fatal opening.

And he knew she wouldn't gamble with thirty lives.

She reached for the broadcast switch, her voice as calm as a frozen lake. "All Black Hawks, follow the descent. Proceed as planned. Anyone who resists... I’ll execute them myself."

Sebastian looked at her, his silver eyes fracturing with a heartbreak he couldn't hide. "Skylar..."

She turned to him and managed a smile that didn't reach her eyes—eyes that were now as hard as diamonds. "Don't worry, Sebastian. The bigger the cage... the more room I have to plan the next kill."

---

Fifteen minutes later, the flight deck was a forest of steel and weaponry. A hundred Marines surrounded them, their rifles lowered by thirty degrees—not in surrender, but in a terrifying, ritualistic display of fealty to the woman their master obsessed over.

Landon stepped forward, the chain rattling softly against his knuckles. He stopped five paces away, spreading his arms wide like a lover welcoming his bride. "Welcome home, Little Rose."

Skylar didn't flinch. She looked him directly in his dark, predatory eyes. "Landon Voss... you won this round."

She paused, her fingers ghosting over her empty ring finger.

"But remember this," she whispered, her voice carrying over the wind. "No matter how large the cage, or how long the chain... one day, I will be the one who snaps the collar around your neck."

Landon stared at her, a look of dangerous, erotic pleasure blooming in his gaze. He let out a low, satisfied laugh. "My Little Rose... I’m counting on it."

In the distance, the black "Serpent" submarine bobbed in the waves. Kai Reyes stood on the deck, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he exhaled a plume of gray smoke into the salt air. He let out a sharp, appreciative whistle.

"Well, well. Looks like the little beauty is caught for good this time," Kai shouted, his roguish grin flashing.

Sebastian stepped in front of Skylar, his gun tracking Kai’s every move. "One more step, Reyes, and I’ll put your sub at the bottom of the Pacific."

Kai didn't even look at the gun. His gaze was locked on Skylar, devouring her. "You can protect her now, Sebastian. But can you protect her forever?"

Skylar closed her eyes for a moment, leaning her forehead against Sebastian’s shoulder, listening to the frantic, protective thrum of his heart.

She knew the truth. She hadn't escaped the shark tank; she had simply been moved to a more expensive aquarium.

But failure was just fuel. Every scar, every humiliation, was a lesson she was memorizing. The madness she had suppressed was still there, burning cold and bright beneath the surface.

"Let’s go," she said, her voice a quiet command. "Let’s see how large this new cage really is."

The wind roared louder. The sea was a sheet of torn black silk, and at the center of the board—surrounded by six subs, a destroyer, thirty choppers, and three monsters—stood Skylar Vance.

Her hair was a tangled mess of black silk, her lips were stained with blood, and as she walked toward the interior of the ship, a faint, inexplicable smile touched her mouth.

The game was far from over. And she had all the time in the world to turn these hunters into her prey.