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หน้าหลัก / Mafia / Cage to Cage / บทที่ 141 - บทที่ 150

บททั้งหมดของ Cage to Cage: บทที่ 141 - บทที่ 150

167

A Day Out

VEX POV The update comes in just before breakfast is cleared from the table. One of my men steps into the doorway, expression stiff in that I-have-news-you’re-not-going-to-like way. “Sir,” he says, “we located Jessie Mason.” My attention sharpens instantly. “Where?” He glances at his phone. “Europe. She’s vacationing in Marbella for the week.” Kade huffs out a breath. “Of course she is.” I ignore the irritation tightening my jaw. “Fine. When she returns to the States, I want eyes on her the moment she steps off the plane. Quietly. No mistakes.” My man nods. “Do you want her picked up at the airport?” “Yes,” I say without hesitation. “The moment she lands, put her in a black SUV and bring her straight to me.” He nods once and disappears. Kade crosses his arms. “A week. That’s a long time to wait.” “It is,” I admit. “But she won’t stay hidden forever. And when she gets back… she’ll talk.” His mouth tightens, but he doesn’t argue. He knows I’m right. I glance toward the sta
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Chosen

BRYNN POV My fingers tremble where they clutch the mirror. The memory hasn’t faded—it’s settled, heavy and real, like it’s always belonged to me.“I remember the dresses,” I say softly. My voice sounds steadier than I feel. “Not just… fabric. The day. The room.”Vex doesn’t move. He doesn’t rush me. He never does.“Tell me,” he says, careful. Like one wrong step might send the memory scattering.I draw in a breath. “There were rows of white gowns. Too many. I was overwhelmed.” A small, surprised laugh slips out of me. “I kept saying no. To everything. Lace. Tulle. Too soft. Too… me before.”His jaw tightens—not with anger, but with recognition.“You told the woman to leave us alone,” I continue. “You said it like a command. She didn’t argue.” My eyes flick to his. “You never argue, do you?”A corner of his mouth twitches. “Not when it matters.”“You stood behind me,” I say. “Close—but not touching. Because I told you the rules.” My throat tightens. “No touching. Not then. Not yet.”H
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Nostalgia

VEX POVHer mouth is warm.Familiar in a way that punches straight through my ribs and settles deep in my chest, where I keep everything I can’t afford to feel.Brynn kisses me like she’s relearning me—slow, intentional, testing the shape of my mouth like it matters. Like I matter. And for a heartbeat, the past crashes into the present so hard it steals my breath.Her in ivory.Her laughter when the zipper finally slid up.Her fingers gripping my jacket that night like she was daring me to cross a line she’d drawn herself.I want to.God, I want to.My hands know exactly where she fits. My body remembers every sound she makes when she’s kissed like this—soft at first, then reckless when she forgets to hold back. Muscle memory urges me forward, closer, deeper, like the last eight months never happened. Like she didn’t wake up and look at me like I was a stranger with my hand in hers.But she did.And that line—that line—matters.I force myself to slow it down, to keep the kiss reverent
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Forward

VEX POVHer mouth finds mine again before I can overthink it.Not rushed. Not desperate.Intentional.Like she’s reminding me that this—us—has always lived in the quiet spaces between restraint and surrender.I slide one hand to her waist, the other bracing against the wall beside her head. The fitting room feels impossibly small now, air thick with heat and memory and everything I’ve spent three months denying myself.Her fingers curl into my jacket, tugging me closer. The contact sparks—bright, familiar. My body responds instantly, traitorous in its certainty.I break the kiss just long enough to breathe against her mouth. “Brynn…”She tilts her head, lips brushing my jaw. “I know,” she whispers. “Slow.”That word is the only thing keeping me grounded.I trail my knuckles along her arm instead—deliberate, measured—memorizing her again without crossing the line I promised myself I wouldn’t. She shivers, and the reaction hits me harder than any kiss ever could.Nostalgia coils tight i
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Her Call

VEX POVMorning comes quietly.Not with alarms or voices or the sharp intrusion of reality—but with warmth.Weight.Breath.Brynn is sprawled across my chest, one arm tucked beneath my shoulder, her cheek resting over my heart like it chose this spot on instinct. Her hair is a dark spill against my skin, strands brushing my throat every time she shifts. Slow. Unconscious. Safe.I don’t move.I barely breathe.Because this—this—is something fragile. Something earned.The house is still. Dawn light filters through the tall windows, pale and gold, catching in the edges of the room. Somewhere downstairs, the faint hum of life begins—footsteps, a distant murmur—but up here, the world has narrowed to the rise and fall of her breath against me.My hand is already in her hair.I don’t remember deciding to put it there.I stroke slowly, carefully, fingertips gliding along her scalp like muscle memory knows the exact pressure she likes. She makes a small sound in her sleep—soft, content—and pre
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I chose you

VEX POVShe wakes wrong.Not startled. Not confused.Too still.Her breath catches first—a sharp inhale like her lungs have forgotten how to work. Her fingers twitch against my chest, then curl, gripping hard enough that I feel the pressure through bone.“Brynn,” I murmur immediately. “Hey. Easy.”Her eyes flutter open.For half a second, they’re unfocused—clouded with sleep.Then her brow tightens.She inhales again, deeper this time, and her hand flies to her temple.“Oh—” Her voice fractures. “My head.”This isn’t a dull ache. I can see that instantly. Her jaw tightens, teeth pressing together as if she’s bracing for impact. Her body goes rigid against mine, every muscle locking at once.I sit up carefully, keeping my arm around her so she doesn’t lurch away.“It’s okay,” I say quietly, steady, grounding. “Don’t fight it.”Her breathing turns uneven.Then her eyes change.Not panic.Recognition.She stares at my throat first. My collarbone. My mouth.Then my eyes.And the way she l
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Memories after memories

BRYNN POVI don’t wake screaming.That’s the first thing I notice.No panic. No disorientation. Just a sudden, sharp awareness—like a light clicking on inside my chest.Vex is there immediately. His arm tightens around me, breath warm against my hair.“Hey,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”I swallow, my throat tight—not from fear, but from the weight of what’s still echoing through me.“I remembered,” I whisper.I don’t have to explain which part. The way his body goes still tells me everything.“The hallway,” I continue softly. “The villa. The door.”His hand moves slowly up and down my back, grounding, patient.“You don’t have to keep going,” he says.“I want to.”I tell him—quietly, carefully—about the anger, the ocean, the way I didn’t want to feel owned. About how I’d stood there convincing myself I didn’t need him… until I heard his voice.When I finish, the room feels heavier. Fuller.Like the memory settled where it belonged.I lay back down against him, letting my cheek rest over
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Almost normal

BRYNN POVTwo days pass without another memory.No flashes. No jolts. No cold rush of recognition stealing the breath from my lungs.Just… quiet.Which feels almost suspicious.By the third morning, I’m sitting at the long breakfast table with a mug warming my hands, watching sunlight creep across polished marble like it belongs there. Vex is on his phone, jaw set in that focused way that means business. Kade leans against the counter nearby, arms crossed, pretending not to hover.Normal.As normal as this life gets.I take a bite of toast and try not to flinch when the butter melts against my fingers.“That’s progress,” Kade says lightly, nodding toward my plate. “You’ve eaten more today than yesterday.”I shrug. “Guess my body decided it likes routine.”Vex’s gaze flicks to me—quick, assessing—then away again. He doesn’t comment. He never pushes. It’s one of the reasons I feel steady enough to be sitting here at all.I lift my coffee.That’s when it happens.Not a crash.A slide.Th
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Gone

BRYNN POVTwo weeks later, I almost forget what fear feels like.That should’ve been my first warning.The city is busy in that late-morning way—cars humming, people weaving past each other with coffee cups and headphones and places to be. I have bags looped over my wrist, new clothes folded neatly inside. Things I chose. Colors I like. Proof that I exist outside guarded halls and marble floors.Normal.I’m halfway down the sidewalk, mentally checking off errands, when something shifts behind me.Not a sound.A pressure.Instinct sparks—but too late.A hard, brutal force slams into the back of my head.White explodes behind my eyes.My knees buckle as the world tilts violently sideways. I barely register the shape of a hand grabbing my arm, yanking me off balance, my bags hitting the ground with a useless scatter of fabric and paper.“Don’t scream,” a voice murmurs close to my ear. Calm. Familiar in a way that makes my stomach drop. “You always were bad at that part anyway.”I try to
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First Truth

BRYNN POVI come back to pain.Sharp. Splitting. Violent enough that for a second I think my skull is actually cracking open—that whatever is inside my head is trying to claw its way out.I gasp.The sound is short, strangled.Because I can’t move.My wrists are bound behind the chair, rope rough and unforgiving against my skin. Not sloppy. Purposeful. Tight enough that every small shift sends a sting up my arms. My ankles are tied too, chair legs biting into my calves. My pulse pounds so hard it feels like it’s echoing off the concrete walls.Concrete.That’s the first thing I register.Cold air. Damp. The faint metallic tang of rust and oil. Somewhere nearby, water drips in a slow, maddening rhythm. A single bulb hangs from the ceiling, swinging just enough to make the shadows stretch and shrink like something breathing.Basement. Warehouse. Somewhere forgotten.Somewhere people disappear.A figure sits across from me.Comfortable.Too comfortable.He’s leaned forward slightly, elbo
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