Chapter 2 The Cold Cage

When Sophia opened her eyes, the world felt different quieter, heavy like the silence before a storm. She blinked against the faint glow of a chandelier above her. Soft, golden light spilled across the room's high ceilings, glinting off polished marble floors. It smelled faintly of roses and expensive cologne a scent that didn't belong to the world she'd run from.

She tried to sit up, but something tugged at her wrist. Her heart slammed painfully when she realized her arm was cuffed a thin leather strap fastened to the ornate headboard behind her. Panic flared hot in her chest.

No. Not again. Not another prison.

She yanked at the strap, ignoring the burn on her skin. Her breath came in sharp, shallow gasps as she scanned the room: tall French windows draped in dark velvet, a fireplace crackling gently, a massive king-size bed that felt more like a throne than somewhere to sleep. The walls were painted deep navy, decorated with oil paintings a forest in winter, a woman's red hair tangled in the wind, a lone wolf standing on a cliff.

How fitting, she thought bitterly. A wolf's den for a girl everyone wants to devour.

The door creaked open. Sophia froze, her fingers curling into fists as heavy footsteps approached. The man from the alley stepped into the light - his ocean blue eyes colder than the marble beneath her bare feet.

He wore a crisp white shirt now, sleeves rolled to his forearms, black slacks that clung to long, powerful legs. A single ring glinted on his right hand an insignia she didn't recognize but felt dangerous anyway.

Sophia's mouth was dry, but she forced her voice to work. "What is this? Where am I? Why am I tied up"

He ignored her questions, walking to the small table near the bed. He poured water into a crystal glass, then carried it to her. He didn't sit, didn't offer a comforting smile. He simply held it out, his jaw tight.

Sophia stared at it like it might be poisoned.

"Drink," he said.

"I'm not thirsty."

His eyes narrowed, a flash of annoyance breaking through his icy mask. "You haven't had water for hours. Your lips are dry. Drink."

When she didn't move, he leaned in, so close she could see the tiny flecks of silver in his blue eyes. "I didn't go through the trouble of saving you just to let you starve yourself."

"Saving me?" She let out a bitter laugh, her voice cracking. "You call this saving me? I woke up chained to a bed"

He cut her off with a look so sharp she forgot how to breathe.

"You were about to be sold to an old man with a taste for girls half his age," he said flatly. "I intercepted the deal. You're mine now."

She flinched at the word mine like it branded her skin. "And what does that make me? Your pet?"

His gaze dipped to the strap around her wrist, then back to her eyes. Something unreadable flickered there regret? Pity? She doubted it. Men like him didn't feel pity.

"You're not my pet, Sophia," he said quietly. "You're an asset. And you're safer here than anywhere else."

"How do you know my name?" she whispered.

He didn't answer. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed and, without asking, lifted the glass to her lips. When she tried to turn away, he cupped her chin surprisingly gentle, his thumb brushing her lower lip.

"Drink," he ordered again.

Her pride screamed at her to resist, but her body betrayed her. The water was cool, soothing her parched throat as she took small, careful sips. He watched her the entire time unblinking, as if memorizing every swallow.

When the glass was empty, he set it aside and finally released her chin. He leaned back, studying her the way a hunter might watch wounded prey.

"Who are you?" she asked again, her voice softer now, threaded with exhaustion.

He tilted his head. "You don't need to know my name yet."

"But you know mine. That's not fair."

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips humorless, cold. "Fair? Little butterfly, the world stopped being fair the moment you ran from that house."

Her breath caught. Butterfly. The word cut deeper than it should have. Did he see her birthmark when he grabbed her? Did it mean anything to him, or was it just another detail he used to make her feel small?

"You can't keep me here," she said, trying to muster the steel she'd learned to fake so well. "I'll leave. I'll find a way."

He let out a low, humorless laugh a sound that made her stomach twist. "You're welcome to try."

He rose from the bed, moving with that same panther like grace that made her shiver. As he walked to the door, she found herself blurting out, "What do you want from me?"

He paused, hand on the doorknob. He didn't look back.

"Nothing you can't give."

And then he was gone.

The hours bled together after that. Sophia tugged at the strap until her wrist throbbed, screamed into the empty room, kicked the pillows onto the floor. No one came. When exhaustion finally claimed her, she fell into a restless sleep, haunted by dreams of cold blue eyes and the taste of freedom just out of reach.

She woke up to the sound of a soft knock - a polite, hesitant tap that was the complete opposite of the cold man's presence.

Before she could answer, the door swung open. A head of light brown hair popped in messy, windswept, like he'd just run through a storm. Hazel green eyes lit up when they found her sitting upright, arms crossed defensively.

"Well, hello, Red."

Sophia blinked. The man leaned against the doorframe, wearing a half buttoned white shirt and ripped jeans. He looked like a boy who'd stumbled into a mansion he didn't belong in except the expensive watch on his wrist said otherwise.

She glared. "Who are you?"

He put a hand dramatically over his chest. "I'm hurt. Ethan didn't introduce us? Rude. I'm Lucas."

Sophia's brow furrowed. "Ethan?"

Lucas's grin widened. "Tall, scary, blue eyes like a winter storm? That's my brother. He likes to pretend he doesn't have a heart, but don't worry he does. It's just buried under several layers of ice and mafia drama."

"Mafia?" she repeated, her voice so small it made him pause.

He walked in, closing the door behind him with a soft click. "Don't worry, sweetheart. No one's gonna chop you up. Ethan's just territorial."

Sophia tugged her knees to her chest, wishing the blanket could swallow her whole. "Why am I here? Why won't he let me leave?"

Lucas's playful smile faltered for the briefest moment. He sat on the edge of the bed not too close, giving her space.

"Look," he said, voice gentler now. "You were about to be sold, right? Ethan found out, and he hates human trafficking scum more than he hates spinach. So he intercepted the deal. Now you're under his... protection."

"Protection?" she scoffed. "Is that what you call this?" She held up her wrist, the red mark glaring against her pale skin.

Lucas winced. "Yeah, that's not great PR. But you did try to run last night. And if you run again, the guys who wanted you before will find you. They don't just give up."

Sophia's throat tightened. She hated that he was right. Hated that she felt safer cuffed to a bed in a stranger's mansion than she ever did in the Stone house.

Lucas nudged her foot with his finger. "Hey. You're safe here. Okay? And for the record..." He leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice like they were school kids sharing secrets. "Between you and me, I think the cuff's overkill. Ethan's a control freak."

She almost smiled. Almost. "Why are you telling me this?"

He shrugged, his hazel eyes warm. "Because you look like you haven't had a reason to smile in a long time. And I hate that."

Sophia looked away, blinking hard. No one ever noticed that before. Not John. Not Ava. Not her so called family.

Lucas jumped up suddenly, clapping his hands. "Okay! Enough doom and gloom. Are you hungry? I make killer scrambled eggs. Or I can order sushi. Or we can sneak into the kitchen and steal Ethan's wine. He hates when I touch his wine."

Sophia's laugh startled her. It came out small and rusty, but real. Lucas's grin widened like a kid who just won a prize at the fair.

"There she is," he said softly. "There's that smile."

She hugged her knees tighter. "What happens to me now?"

Lucas sobered. He brushed a strand of her red hair behind her ear, his touch feather light.

"Now?" he said. "You get to rest. You get to eat real food. You get to be something other than someone's pawn."

Sophia swallowed the lump in her throat. "And then?"

Lucas's eyes darkened a storm brewing in that easygoing green. "And then, Red? We'll figure out how to burn the people who did this to you. One lie at a time."