All Chapters of CAGED, CLAIMED, AND FATED: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

CHAPTER FORTY-ONEThe belt wraps around them. Once. Twice. He pulls it tight and hooks it somehow to the headboard.I'm trapped. Arms stretched above me. Unable to move them.Unable to touch myself anymore."Dante..."His hand moves to my neck. Trails down slowly. Over my collarbone. Down to my breasts.He grabs one. Squeezes. Hard enough to make me gasp.Then his fingers find my nipple through the lace and pinch."Ahh!" The sound that comes out of me is desperate. Needy.His hand moves to the clasp of my bra. Unhooks it with practiced ease.The fabric falls away.My breasts are exposed now. Nipples pink and hard and begging for attention.He stares at them for a long moment. Then his head dips down.His mouth closes over one nipple."Oh god..." I arch off the bed. Try to press closer to him.But he's already moving away.Standing up. Walking across the room to a leather armchair near the windows.He sits down. Leans back. Watches me with those gold eyes."Please," I whimper. "Please

CHAPTER FORTY-THREEThere's a void opening in my chest. An emptiness I wasn't expecting. Wasn't prepared for.He left?He just... left?The driver reaches into a bag at his feet and pulls out items.Two phones. A purse.My purse."These are yours," he says, handing them to me.I take them slowly. My hands are shaking slightly.My own phone. The screen is cracked, must have happened at some point during the chaos at Elysium. But it's here.Ariel's phone. Intact. Probably dead by now.My bag. With my wallet still inside. My student ID. Everything exactly as I left it.I stare at them like they're foreign objects. Like I can't quite believe they're real."Boss said you should eat the food over there." The driver gestures toward a table I hadn't noticed before. There's a tray with covered dishes. Steam rising from beneath the silver domes. "He asked the maid to make it for you."He pauses. Then delivers the final blow."Then after that, he said you can leave."The world tilts.I actually

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVEI stare at Miguel.At his easy smile. His comfortable demeanor. The way he's looking at me like nothing happened.Like two days ago he didn't see me with another man.Like he didn't watch that man kiss me in front of everyone. Like he didn't hear Dante call me his fiancée.Like his wrist wasn't nearly crushed.Why is he acting so... normal?"I'm sorry for the way I reacted," Miguel says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I didn't know that man was your uncle."The words don't register at first."Wait, what?""Yeah." He laughs, a little embarrassed. "Ariel told me. He's your distant uncle, right? I should have known, honestly. I mean, he's not exactly young. He had gray hair on his head. I should have realized you'd never go out with a man that old. He looks like he could be both our father."I actually choke.On my own saliva. On air. On the absolute absurdity of what I'm hearing.Uncle?I look at Ariel.She's standing slightly behind Miguel, and when our ey

CHAPTER FORTY- SEVENSomewhere in EuropeThe office is vast.Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook a city skyline that glitters in the fading evening light. London, perhaps. Or Vienna. Or Prague. Cities blur together when you've lived for three centuries.The room itself is all dark wood and expensive taste. A mahogany table stretches nearly the entire length of the space, long enough to seat twenty comfortably.Artwork that belongs in museums hangs on the walls. Persian rugs that cost more than most people's homes cover the marble floors.At the head of the table sits a woman.She's perfectly still. Unnaturally so. The kind of stillness that only comes with age. With time. With being something other than human.A cigarette burns between her fingers. She doesn't smoke it, just watches the thin trail of smoke curl upward toward the vaulted ceiling. A habit from a different era. A different century.On the table in front of her sits a glass.Crystal. Expensive. Filled with liquid the color

CHAPTER FORTY-NINEIn the outskirts of Colombia, deep in the woods where no human would ever venture, a building stands.It's ancient. Made entirely of stone. The kind of structure that's existed for centuries, weathering storms and wars and the passage of time itself.No windows. No modern amenities. Just thick walls and iron gates and the weight of history pressing down from every angle.This is where they bring wolves who break the laws.This is where the council holds its prisoners.And right now, in the deepest cell of this forsaken place, Dante De León kneels on the cold stone floor.Chains bind his wrists. Heavy iron shackles connected to the wall behind him, forcing him to remain in this position.His knees ache from hours of kneeling. His shoulders scream from the unnatural angle his arms are forced into.The metal has worn away at his skin. Livid bruises circle both wrists. In some places, the flesh is raw. Bleeding slightly where the iron has cut too deep.But he doesn't mo