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The Cage at Blackwood Estate
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2026-09-08 23:03:11The drive out of the city felt less like a normal drive and more like an abduction in slow motion.
I sat in the back of a blacked-out SUV, staring at the small, square bezel of my phone screen. No signal. The driver, a broad, silent man named Vance’s head of security, who hadn't spoken a word since he forced my shoulder bag into the trunk, controlled the jammer mounted under the dash.
Outside, the glittering glass towers of the financial district dissolved into twisting, rain-slicked highway, which quickly yielded to dense pine forest.
"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice cutting through the heavy hum of the engine. "This isn't anywhere near the suburban residential district."
"Blackwood estate," the driver said smoothly, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror for a split second. "Private territory."
Ten minutes later, the SUV slowed as we approached massive wrought-iron gates set into ten-foot-high stone walls. The gates swept inward without a sound, and we rolled onto a long, winding gravel driveway flanked by towering hemlocks.
At the crest of the hill stood the estate. It wasn't a cozy countryside home; it was a modern fortress of dark granite, concrete, and soaring tinted glass panels, illuminated by sharp floodlights cutting through the mist.
The SUV ground to a halt and before I could even reach for the door handle, it was pulled open from the outside.
Kaelen Vance stood under the exterior lights, holding a dark umbrella over his head. He had changed out of his torn suit into a heavy charcoal wool overcoat and a black crewneck sweater. Without the immediate agony of his transformation, he looked impeccably polished, terrifyingly calm, and impossibly large against the backdrop of the rain.
"Welcome to Blackwood, Miss Vane," he said, stepping back to leave space for me to get out.
I hesitated, clutching my coat around myself. "You can't keep me here, Kaelen. This is illegal."
"What is illegal is breaking into a corporate vault," he replied, his tone as flat and measured as a balance sheet. "Here, you have a bed, a private study, and access to every financial record Vance Global has produced in the last five years. Step out of the car."
I took a sharp breath, forced my feet onto the wet pavement, and brushed past him. The moment my shoulder passed near his chest, that strange, electric static buzzed across my skin again, a sudden jolt of heat that sent my pulse spiking.
Kaelen snapped the umbrella shut as we stepped into the grand foyer. The interior was stunning, soaring timber ceilings, polished concrete floors, and floor-to-ceiling glass looking out over miles of dark woodland.
Standing in the center of the foyer was a young woman with sharp, angular features, pale skin, and striking, silver-grey eyes. She wore a tailored suit, but the way she held her shoulders—tense, aggressive, ready to spring, didn't match a corporate secretary.
She stared at me, her nostrils flaring slightly as she took a quick breath. Her eyes flashed with an instantaneous, hostile expression before settling back to grey.
"Alpha," she said, her voice clipped, completely ignoring my presence. "The border patrols caught two rogues near the south fence an hour ago. And... you brought a human inside the perimeter?"
"She stays in the east wing, Greta," Kaelen commanded, his voice carrying an unquestionable weight that made the air in the room feel heavy. "She has full access to the audit archives. She doesn't leave the perimeter without my personal escort."
Greta took a step closer to Kaelen, her hands tightening into fists. "A human auditor in the primary residence? During a territorial dispute with the Ironbound ? It's a liability."
"It's my decision," Kaelen said softly.
The command in his voice was subtle, but the effect was immediate. Greta fell silent, her jaw clenching hard, though her narrow, predatory gaze remained locked on me.
"Your quarters are upstairs, Calla," Kaelen said, turning his back on Greta and looking down at me. "Your laptop and personal items have already been delivered. The financial files for Ironbound Freight are loaded on an encrypted server in your study."
"And if I refuse to open them?" I challenged, crossing my arms. "If I sit in that room and do nothing?"
Kaelen took a step closer, bending down until his face was inches from mine. In the warm foyer lights, his eyes were clear grey, but deep down in the pupils, a faint ember of gold still burned.
"Then your father's name stays ruined," he murmured, his breath warm against my cheek. "And you remain my guest until you change your mind. Get some rest, Calla. Tomorrow, we start balancing the books."
Bab terbaru
Claimed By The Steel Pack Epilogue: The Ridge Road
By late June, the high mountain summer had set in deep and warm. The clover in the upper pasture had gone to seed, the timber lease with Donald Miller had wrapped up with a final cash payment logged at the county courthouse, and the lower turnout had fifty yards of fresh, white crushed limestone spread smooth over the culvert.It was Saturday evening, and the valley was falling into a long, quiet twilight.Nora was sitting on the front porch with a pan of sweet cherries from the orchard, her fingers stained red as she pitted them for the morning jam. Marcus was down by the stables, giving the draft team their evening rubdown, his low whistle drifting across the quiet yard.Kaelen and I walked up the ridge road together, carrying nothing but a blanket and a lantern we didn't need to light yet.The heat of the day was still rising off the granite rocks along the trail, but the air off the ridge was cooling down, thick with the scent of wild mountain thyme and warm pine bark. We wal
Claimed By The Steel Pack The Cattle Run
The first week of May brought three days of warm, steady sun that baked the heavy mud along the lower driveway into solid ground. The mountain grass in the upper lot had shot up thick and deep green, clover head-high to a calf, and the timber lease trucks were already making their two quiet runs a day down the lower gravel lane without a single hitch.At daylight, Kaelen and Marcus were down by the loading chutes near the old stone barn. The morning air was cold enough to show their breath, but the sun was breaking clear over the eastern ridge, turning the high pine tops gold.Sixteen head of heavy black cattle were penned in the lower yard, their hooves churning the dirt, their thick hides steaming in the early light. We had bought them off the Miller ranch two days ago, young stock, heavy-boned and wild from the high country, meant to spend the summer grazing the five-acre upper lot we had cleared and fenced back in April."Get the big gate wide, Calla," Kaelen called out over t
Claimed By The Steel Pack Town Business
Monday morning brought a warm sun that dried the last standing puddles along the main street of West Fork.We drove the Ford into town around ten, parking in front of the brick county courthouse. It was the first time in four months we’d come into town without looking over our shoulders or checking who was sitting in the back of the local diner.The courthouse steps were slick with morning shade, but the hall inside smelled of floor wax, old paper, and stale tobacco.Donald Miller was already waiting outside the clerk's office, standing near the radiator with his briefcase resting on his knee. He looked up when the heavy oak doors closed behind us, his eyes sweeping over Kaelen’s broad frame before landing on me."Morning, Miss Blackwood," Miller said, standing up straight. "Clerk’s got the lease agreement drafted on the official ledger. All ready for signatures."We stepped through the frosted glass door into the recorder’s office. Old Mr. Henderson sat behind the high wooden c
Claimed By The Steel Pack The Timber Lease
By mid-April, the wild clover was starting to come up thick in the lower pasture, turning the valley green under a warm spring sun.Marcus was down by the creek repair shop, replacing the iron teeth on the hay rake, the clear ring of his hammer hitting the anvil every few seconds.I was sitting on the wooden bench under the back porch overhang, greasing a set of leather reins, when a silver pickup truck turned off the county road and came slowly up our lane. It stopped ten feet back from the lower gate.A tall man in a dark canvas coat and a grey felt hat got out, carrying a leather briefcase. He didn't unlatch the gate. He stood on the county side of the post, looking up toward the house with his hands tucked into his coat pockets.Kaelen walked out from the side of the barn before the truck engine had even stopped idling. He had a heavy iron wrench in his hand, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his posture quiet, dark, and set.I set the reins down on the bench and walked d
Claimed By The Steel Pack The Thaw
By late March, the winter broke all at once. Three days of warm south wind swept up the valley, melting the ice crust on the pastures and sending torrents of grey runoff rushing down the creek bed.The mud along the drive was black, heavy, and knee-deep in places, but the foundations of the house and barn sat high on dry granite stone.Kaelen spent the afternoon out in the lower yard with a pair of draft horses, dragging a heavy wooden scraper back and forth across the driveway to level out the deep ruts left by the melt. The horses moved with slow, heavy purpose, steam rising off their wet backs as the late afternoon sun hit the valley floor.I walked down from the porch carrying a bucket of cold water and a handful of dry rags to wipe down the leather harnesses.Kaelen pulled the team to a halt near the gate post, unhooking the trace chains with a loud iron clatter. He straightened up, leaning his hand against the collar of the lead horse, his shirt unbuttoned at the throat and
Claimed By The Steel Pack The Deep Winter
By mid-December, the snow had laid two feet deep across the lower pasture, freezing into a hard crust that held the weight of a man.The estate was cut off from the county road, but for the first time in memory, that isolation was a comfort rather than a trap. There were no tracks coming up the long lane from the turnout, only the steady trail Kaelen and Marcus packed down between the house, the stables, and the woodshed each morning.I stood by the kitchen window, watching the smoke rise straight up from the chimney into a pale, frozen sky. The kitchen was thick with heat from the stove, smelling of baking bread and salted lard.Kaelen came in through the back mudroom, stamping the snow from his boots on the mat. He pulled off his knitted cap and shook the ice out of his dark hair, his face flushed red from the wind. In his arms, he carried a heavy spruce crate filled with iron fittings, hinges, and extra gate latches he had been cleaning and oiling out in the tool shop.He set
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