A caged marriage

Chapter 4 : A Caged Marriage

Zoey’s POV

Two years.

It had been two long, draining years since Alpha Lyon had taken me from my grandmother’s house and declared me his wife. A part of me had hoped that things would get better, that perhaps the cold exterior he wore so effortlessly would melt with time. But it hadn’t.

I didn’t know how to describe Lyon’s emotions toward me—or if he even had any. He was impossible to read. Cold and detached one moment, then possessive and almost tender when it suited him. Most of the time, he wouldn’t even look at me unless he had something to say, and even then, it was usually to mock me.

“You’re pathetic,” he’d say whenever I failed at my training sessions. “How did someone as weak as you survive this long?”

I learned quickly that arguing only made it worse.

But then there were the nights.

When it was time for him to claim me as his wife, he was a completely different man. His cold demeanor would shift into something primal, something heated. He would touch me with a possessiveness that left me breathless, but there was no affection in it. No love. It was mechanical and intense, as if he were fulfilling some unspoken need.

And after those nights, the walls would go back up.

I never knew how to feel about him.

One day, I had mustered enough courage to ask him about my grandmother.

“Alpha Lyon,” I began hesitantly, standing in the corner of his office. He didn’t look up from the stack of papers he was signing.

“What?” he said flatly.

“I… I haven’t seen my grandmother in two years. You said—”

“I said nothing,” he cut me off, his voice sharp. He finally lifted his gaze to meet mine, his icy eyes narrowing. “Why are you bringing this up again?”

“Because I miss her,” I said softly, my voice breaking.

“You should be grateful I took you out of that poor district,” he snapped. “Do you have any idea what I’ve done for you? You’d be dead without me.”

His words stung more than I wanted to admit, and I felt the familiar burn of tears behind my eyes. But I refused to cry in front of him—not this time.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he said, his voice laced with annoyance. “If you’re so desperate for company, I’ll assign you a servant. But don’t bring up your grandmother again.”

I nodded silently and left the room, my chest tight with frustration.

The next day, I was in the garden, tending to the flowers that Lyon had ordered to be planted. Gardening was the one thing that gave me peace, even if it didn’t last long.

“Still playing with dirt, I see,” his voice rang out, startling me. I turned to see him standing a few feet away, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

“It’s not playing,” I said quietly, brushing the soil off my hands. “It’s productive.”

He chuckled darkly. “If you spent half as much energy on training as you do on these weeds, you wouldn’t be so useless.”

I clenched my fists, biting back a retort. There was no point.

That night, he came to my room.

As always, his mood had shifted. He was no longer the mocking, cruel Alpha but a man driven by something I didn’t understand. His touch was demanding yet gentle, and I hated that a part of me found comfort in it.

But by morning, the warmth would vanish, and the cycle would begin again.

Over time, I learned to live with it—or maybe I just stopped feeling. I didn’t know how I survived, day after day, but I did.

Two years had passed, and I was still trapped in this cage of a marriage. A part of me wondered if I would ever get out. Or if I even wanted to. 

Alpha Lyon’s Pov. 

The pub was loud and full of chatter, the kind of noise that came when people drank too much and forgot their limits. I sat at a table with my closest friends, holding a glass of whiskey, listening as they joked and laughed.

I wasn’t one for these gatherings, but every now and then, I made an appearance. It wasn’t because I enjoyed their company—I could barely tolerate most of them. This was about showing my presence, reminding them who was in charge, even in moments like this.

The air smelled of spilled drinks and cheap cigars, and the room buzzed with conversations I barely paid attention to. Until someone brought up Zoey.

“ Lyon, tell us,” Sebastian began, leaning back in his chair with a sly grin. “What’s it like being married to someone as… delicate as Zoey?”

I stiffened, my grip tightening on the glass. My friends knew better than to bring her up.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, my voice calm but laced with warning.

“Oh, come on,” he continued, oblivious—or maybe too drunk to care. “The whole pack knows she’s weak. Barely a wolf, really. It must be exhausting for someone like you to deal with her. A woman like that, she’s more burden than wife.”

The table fell silent. Everyone turned to me, waiting for my reaction.

I stared at Sebastian, my blood boiling beneath the surface. Weak? Burden? It wasn’t as though I didn’t know Zoey’s shortcomings, but hearing someone else speak about her like that… it was different.

“You think that’s funny?” I asked, my tone dangerously low.

“Relax, Lyon,” he said, chuckling nervously. “It’s just a joke.”

“A joke?” I stood up, towering over him. The glass in my hand shattered as I crushed it, shards cutting into my palm, but I didn’t care. “Say it again.”

Sebastian’s grin faltered, and the others began shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

“I didn’t mean anything by it—”

Before he could finish, my fist connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. Chaos erupted as chairs toppled and wolves scrambled to get out of the way.

“You dare insult my wife?” I roared, stepping over him as he struggled to get up. “You think you can disrespect her and walk away unscathed?”

“Lyon, stop!” someone yelled, but I didn’t care. My wolf was clawing to the surface, demanding to rip his skin off.

Sebastian staggered to his feet, blood dripping from his mouth. “You’re overreacting! She’s—”

I didn’t let him finish. Another punch sent him crashing into a table, the wood splintering under his weight.

“Enough!” Marcus, one of the older wolves, stepped between us, his hands raised. “Lyon, you’ve made your point. This is a pub, not a battlefield.”

I took a step back, my chest heaving. My wolf growled in satisfaction, but I wasn’t done.

“Get out,” I barked at Sebastian. “And if I ever hear you speak about Zoey again, I’ll do more than break your jaw.”

He turned and announced to the pub. 

“Anybody that dares to disrespect my wife, The Luna…That will be your last day on earth “