Chapter Three: The Rules of the Cage

I should have run.

That's what anyone with half a brain would've done. Scream for security. Grab my mop. Bolt down the service stairs and disappear back into my terrible, boring, safe life.

Instead, I followed them.

Not because I trusted them. I didn't trust anyone, not since I learned the hard way that nobody was coming to save me. I followed because staying ignorant felt more dangerous than walking into whatever trap they were setting. At least this way, I could see it coming.

The elevator ride to the parking garage was silent. Not awkward silence, tactical silence. The kind that made it clear these men moved like a unit.

Lucien walked ahead, shoulders straight, like he owned the ground he walked on. Marcus stayed half a step to my right, close enough that I could feel him there. Elias walked behind me. I could hear his footsteps, steady and final, like a door closing.

I wasn't a guest. I wasn't even a sister yet.

I was cargo being moved from Point A to Point B.

The car waiting in the shadows was black and sleek, the kind of vehicle that cost more than I'd make in ten years. It looked like it had never seen a speed bump.

I stopped ten feet away.

"No," I said. "I'm not getting in some stranger's car. I've seen this movie. It ends with a shallow grave."

Lucien turned. The fluorescent lights carved shadows into his face. "You've been in strangers' cars your whole life. Every bus. Every time someone offered you a ride. You were always at someone's mercy. Today's just the first time you're being honest about it."

That stung more than I wanted to admit.

Marcus opened the back door. The interior smelled like leather and cold air. "At least sit. The seats are bulletproof. You can yell at us once we're moving."

"I hate all of you," I muttered.

Elias's voice came from behind me, low and maddeningly calm. "You don't. Not yet. Hate takes effort you're not ready to give."

I got in the car.

The leather was soft. Too soft. The door shut with a heavy thud that sounded like a vault sealing. As we pulled onto the main road, my city blurred past the tinted windows. My bus stops. My corner stores. All of it disappearing behind dark glass.

I crossed my arms. "Let me guess. Secret heir. Mansion with fifty rooms. Tragic backstory. And a ton of rules I'm definitely going to break."

Lucien didn't look at me. "Yes."

I blinked. "All of that?"

"All of that," he said. "And more."

The estate was worse than I imagined.

I expected something flashy, gold fountains, marble statues, the kind of wealth that screamed for attention. Instead, the gates opened silently, like they'd been waiting twenty years for me to come home. The house rose out of the dark, all gray stone and ivy, glowing windows watching us approach.

My throat went tight. "This is insane."

"This is yours," Marcus said quietly. "Or it would've been."

Inside, the house smelled like wood smoke and old books. It was warm and silent, the kind of silence that felt like the walls were holding secrets.

Lucien led me into a sitting room. A fire crackled in a fireplace bigger than my entire apartment.

"Sit," he said.

I did. My legs were shaking.

Elias stayed by the door. Marcus leaned against the mantel. Lucien sat across from me and folded his hands.

"You're safe here," he said. "But safety has rules."

There it was. The catch.

"Rule one," Marcus said. "You don't leave alone. Not for a walk. Not for coffee. Not to get your stuff from that shithole apartment. We'll handle it."

I laughed. Sharp. Bitter. "I'm not a pet."

Elias's eyes cut to mine. Not angry. Just firm. "That's not negotiable. Your life is a target now. You walk out those gates alone, you're inviting a bullet."

The certainty in his voice made my spine go stiff.

Lucien continued. "Rule two: you don't tell anyone about us. Not friends. Not coworkers. To the world, you're still cleaning night shifts."

"I don't have friends," I muttered. "And my boss forgets my name the second I leave."

Marcus flinched. Just barely. "We'll fix that."

"I didn't ask you to fix my life."

Lucien's voice softened. "You didn't have to. We're fixing what was stolen."

I swallowed hard.

"Rule three," Elias said, moving closer. He stopped a few feet away, but it still felt like he was right next to me. "You tell us if something feels wrong. If you feel watched. Followed. If a shadow looks too long or a car stays behind us too long. You tell us immediately."

His eyes locked on mine, demanding a promise.

"What happens if I don't?" I asked.

"We'll know anyway," he said calmly. "But it's better if it comes from you."

That should've terrified me. Should've made me run.

But it didn't. It grounded me.

For the first time in my life, someone was acting like my safety actually mattered.

Lucien stood. "Your room's ready. You'll rest tonight. Tomorrow, we explain."

"Explain what?"

Marcus smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Why someone thought stealing a three-year-old was worth killing for. And what we're going to do to the people who still think they can take you back."

The floor tilted beneath me.

Lucien studied my face. "You don't have to believe us yet. You don't even have to like us."

Elias's voice was low. Steady. "You just have to stay alive long enough for us to prove it."

I looked at them, these three strangers who claimed me like I'd always belonged to them.

I didn't know if I was being protected or if I'd just walked into a prettier cage.

But one thing was clear as they led me toward the stairs: this wasn't a rescue.

It was a reckoning.

And I was the storm at the center of it.