The Golden Cage

Three days.

That was how long I had been confined to the "Guest Suite," which was really just a polite term for a high-security cell with 800-thread-count sheets.

My recovery is slow but undeniable. Without that daily toxic slurry Miller had forced down my throat, my body began remembering how to function again. Now, the trembling of my hands has stopped. That constant, crushing headache that kept me company for five years has faded into a dull thrum at the base of my skull, where I don't notice it so much anymore.

I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the bathroom, staring at the stranger looking back at me.

Too thin still. My collarbones are sharp ridges against my pale skin, and my ribs are visible beneath the oversized silk shirt I swiped from Dante's closet because I own no clothes. But my eyes... they were different. The dull, muddy hazel was clearing, revealing a brighter, sharper shade of violet-gray.

"You are healing faster than I expected," Dr. Evans said from the doorway.

I turned. The kind-faced doctor was packing up his medical bag. He had been checking on me every six hours like clockwork.

"I feel awake," I said, struggling to find the right word. "Like I've been underwater for years, and I just broke the surface."

"That is an apt description," Evans noted grimly. "The toxicology report came back this morning. The concentration of silver nitrate in your blood was high enough to kill a normal human. It's a miracle your organs didn't shut down."

He paused, looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and pity. "However bad that wolf you might have inside you is, Maya... she must be a great survivor to endure that. Most wolves would have shriveled and died."

I looked down at my hands. "I don't have a wolf, Doctor. That's why Miller drugged me. He said I was broken."

"Maybe," Evans said, though he didn't seem convinced. "Or maybe he was just scared of what would happen if you weren't drugged."

He looked at his watch. "The Alpha has cleared you for limited movement. You are to leave this room but remain within the East Wing. Do not go near the elevators to the garage, and do not approach the Alpha's private study unless summoned."

"Can I eat?" I asked. "Real food? Not just toast and broth?"

Evans smiled for the first time. "Yes. Lunch is served in the communal dining hall on the floor below. Might do you good to stretch your legs. Just take it slow."

He left, leaving the door open. It was a silent invitation.

I took a deep breath. I was terrified. Being 'out and about' in the Silver River Pack had one target on its back- dodging slaps from the Luna, avoiding the lustful stares of the Gammas, and keeping my head down.

But my stomach growled, loud and demanding. The poison was gone, but my hunger was ravenous.

I tightened the sash of the silk robe-it was stupid attire, but it was all I had-and stepped into the hallway.

The castle was silent. It was completely different from my old pack house, which was full of chaos. Here, everything was stone, glass, and steel. The air smelled of ice lemon polish and cold mountain air. It felt like walking through a museum, or a mausoleum.

I found the grand staircase and descended using it slowly, gripping on the banister and mimicking the technique. My legs were still weak, trembling slightly with the effort, but I forced myself to keep moving.

Left at the bottom of the stairs; that's how it was in the quick glimpse I caught of the place when Dante brought me in.

On the way, I followed the scent of roasting meat and fresh bread. It led me down a lengthy corridor lined with portraits of grim ancestral men-most likely Dante's ancestors. All had his hard jaw and predatory eyes.

I opened a pair of double doors and pushed them open.

The dining hall was smaller than I expected, likely used for the high-ranking staff and pack members who lived in the main house. Walking into that room, one would think the mahogany long table dominated the room.

The chatter inside stopped immediately.

There were about a dozen people—a few guards, a few maids, and some administrative staff—eating. All turned to look at me.

Then again, thick and suffocating silence stretched.

I held my chin high. Don't look like a victim, I told myself. You are the fifty-million-dollar investment.

I walked toward the buffet set up on the side board. I could feel their eyes on me. I could feel the judgment crawling over my skin like ants.

"Well, well," a sharp voice cut through the silence. "Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence."

I froze.

A woman stood up from the head of the table. Beautiful in a severe way-tall, straight brunette hair pulled back into a tight bun, and wearing the uniform of Head of Housekeeping. Or rather, it was the essence she had about her that she was more than a maid. She was a ranked wolf. A Gamma, at least.

She walked toward me, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Stopped a foot away, wrinkling her nose as she sniffed the air near me.

"You smell like sickness," she sneered. "And human weakness."

"I'm recovering," I said quietly, reaching for a plate.

She slapped the plate out of my hand.

It shattered on the floor, the porcelain shards skittering across the wood. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet room.

"You don't eat off the fine china," the woman hissed. "Those plates are for Pack members. Not bought whores."

A few snickers erupted from the table.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I looked at the broken shards, then up at her.

"I am hungry," I said, my voice steady despite the shaking in my hands. "And the Alpha said I was to eat."

"The Alpha isn't here," she said, stepping into my personal space. Her eyes flashed a dull orange—her wolf was close to the surface, challenging me. "My name is Elena. I run this house. And in my house, pets eat in the kitchen with the scraps. If they eat at all."

She pointed toward the swinging service door. "Get out of my sight. You're ruining everyone's appetite."

The old Maya would have run. The old Maya would have apologized, picked up the shards with her bare hands, and begged for an apple core.

But the old Maya was drugged. The new Maya was thinking clearly.

I looked at Elena. I saw the jealousy in her eyes. It wasn't just that I was a human; it was that Dante had brought me here personally. That he had carried me.

"No," I said.

The room gasped.

Elena blinked, stunned. "Excuse me?"

"I said no," I repeated, louder this time. I stepped over the broken plate. "Dante paid fifty million dollars for me. That makes me the most expensive asset in this entire building."

I looked her dead in the eye.

"Do you think he would be pleased to hear that his expensive investment starved because the housekeeper was jealous?"

Elena’s face turned red. "You little—"

She raised her hand to strike me.

I didn't flinch. I didn't close my eyes. I calculated the distance. If she hit me, I would fall. I would bleed. And Dante would see the bruise.

"Hit me," I challenged softly. "Go ahead. Leave a mark. Let’s explain that to the King when he asks why his property is damaged."

Elena’s hand hovered in the air. She was trembling with rage, her claws extending slightly. She wanted to hurt me. She wanted to put me in my place.

But she lowered her hand.

She knew I was right. Dante didn't care about me, but he cared about his money. And damaging me was damaging his wallet.

"You think you're clever," Elena spat, leaning in close. "But you're just a contract. One year. One heir. And then he'll toss you out in the snow. Don't get comfortable, breeder."

"I don't plan to," I replied coolly.

I stepped around her, grabbed a new plate, and deliberately filled it with the best cuts of roast beef and potatoes. I poured a glass of water.

I didn't sit at the table with them. I wasn't welcome there, and I didn't want to be near them.

I took my food to a small table by the window, far away from the group. I sat down, my back straight, and began to eat.

My hands were shaking so bad I could barely hold the fork, but I didn't let them see it. I forced myself to swallow every bite, fueling my body.

I could feel Elena staring daggers into my back. I could hear the whispers starting up again—"Arrogant," "Useless," "Human trash."

But I didn't care.

Up above, on the mezzanine balcony that overlooked the dining hall, a shadow moved.

I glanced up, just for a second.

Dante was standing there. He was leaning against the railing, watching the scene below. He must have seen everything. He must have seen Elena slap the plate. He must have seen her raise her hand.

He hadn't intervened. He hadn't come down to save me.

He had waited to see if I would crack.

Our eyes met across the distance. His face was impassive, a mask of cold indifference. He didn't smile. He didn't nod. He just looked at me with that same calculating expression he had used in the bedroom.

Good, his eyes seemed to say. You didn't break.

He turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the upper hallway.

I looked back down at my plate. I wasn't safe here. The staff hated me. The Alpha treated me like a science experiment. I was alone in a castle full of predators.

But as I cut into another piece of meat, a small, fierce flame ignited in my chest.

I had survived Miller. I had survived the poison. I would survive Elena.

I would eat their food. I would regain my strength. And I would prove to King Dante that I was more than just a line item in his ledger.

I took another bite, savoring the taste of defiance. It tasted better than the roast beef.