All Chapters of The Golden Cage Of Two Monsters : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The phone screen continued to glow, displaying Dominic Blackwood’s name with a light that felt like a silent judgment. Its vibration against the wooden nightstand sounded like a heartbeat racing against death itself. Sienna felt every joint in her body go stiff. In front of her, Killian Vane didn't move an inch. Instead, he stared at the phone with a mocking, tilted smirk."Answer it, Sienna. Don’t let your husband get suspicious," Killian whispered. His voice was so low, it sounded like the rumble of a predator ready to pounce.Sienna’s trembling hand reached for the device. She tried to take a deep breath, attempting to normalize a throat that had suddenly gone bone-dry. Killian didn't release his hold. In fact, he pressed his body even closer, making Sienna feel every corded muscle of his chest against her thin silk robe."Hello, Dominic?" Sienna’s voice came out slightly raspy."Why did it take you so long to answer, darling? What are you doing?"Dominic’s voice on the other end w

The roar of the doorbell, persistent and shrill like a death knell, made Sienna’s knees buckle. The police. Why were they at the door the moment Dominic had left? Sienna looked at Killian, who remained standing beside her, unnervingly calm. He didn't look surprised at all; instead, there was a dark, satisfied glint in his eyes."Killian, what have you done? Did you report Dominic?" she whispered, her voice trembling. She pulled her silk robe tighter, trying to shield her body, which still felt raw from Dominic’s rough handling the night before.Killian didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear with a tenderness that felt chillingly out of place."Put your clothes on, Sienna. Let me handle them downstairs. Don’t show them that terrified face, or they’ll think you’re an accomplice in his money laundering schemes," Killian said coolly.Money laundering? Sienna’s head spun. She knew Dominic was ruthless in business, but she had neve

The atmosphere in the Blackwood penthouse was thick with the scent of expensive bourbon and the lingering metallic tang of a past that refused to be buried. Sienna felt the cool silk of the duvet beneath her, a stark contrast to the predatory heat radiating from Killian Vane. He loomed over her, a dark silhouette against the glittering Manhattan skyline that bled through the floor-to-ceiling windows.Dominic was in a coma, a broken king in a sterile hospital bed, yet his ghost haunted every corner of this room. Killian’s hand was firm on her neck, his thumb tracing the pulse point that hammered frantically against her skin."You’re trembling, Sienna," Killian murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that settled deep in her bones. "Is it fear? Or is it the thrill of finally being touched by a man who doesn't need a marriage license to claim you?"Sienna gripped the edge of her towel, her knuckles white. She looked up at him, searching for a trace of the boy she once knew, but fou

The silence in the stalled elevator was heavy, vibrating with the hum of a power that didn’t belong to me. I leaned against the mirrored wall, my breath hitching as I stared at my own reflection. I looked like a stranger—a woman with swollen lips and a dress that had been rumpled by a man who wasn't my husband, all while my husband lay dying just a few floors above us.Killian stood in front of me, his shadow swallowing mine. He didn't look like he had just witnessed his brother's near-resurrection. He looked like a man who had just won a territory."You’re thinking about him again," Killian whispered, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. He stepped closer, pinning me against the cold glass. "I can see it in your eyes, Sienna. You’re wondering if those lips that gasped your name can still scream.""He’s my husband, Killian," I rasped, my voice trembling. "How can I not think about the man who is literally fighting his way back from the grave?"Killian’s hand shot out, his fingers tan

The silence that followed the departure of the police was more violent than the sirens. The penthouse, once a fortress of sterile luxury, now felt like a hollowed-out ribcage. The smell of copper and spent gunpowder lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of Killian’s expensive bourbon.I stood in the center of the room, my hands trembling as I stared at the dark screen of my phone. The deed was done. Detective Miller had the files—the offshore accounts, the forged signatures, and the grainy photograph that proved my father’s death wasn't a tragic accident. It was an execution.But as I looked at the bloodstains on the mahogany desk, a cold realization settled into my marrow. I hadn't just freed myself; I had declared war on two men who didn't know how to lose.I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. The steel shutters had retracted, revealing a Manhattan that looked like a graveyard of lights. I caught my reflection in the glass. My hair was a mess, my skin was bruised, and my ey