Page 114 of Caged

The pressure around my throat chokes off the anguished soun, but not fast enough. The damage is done.

Caelan’s control snaps.

All civility or trace of humanity drains away, leaving behind something ancient and terrifying. Something that’s hunted and killed indiscriminately for centuries before, and will continue long after.

His lips peel back from his teeth in a feral snarl so terrifying it’s immediately clear who the real predator in this room is.

When his fangs drop—long, razor sharp and deadly—the promise of death chills the air, turning it cold and oppressive. The sound Caelan releases is a vow of pure, unadulterated violence.

Every predatory instinct he’s honed for centuries is salivating for the blood of a single target.

My father.

Even knowing the threat isn’t directed at me, my body locks up. Some primal prey instinct that’s been buried deep comes alive, warning me not to move. Not to make a sound.

The silence holds for a long, suffocating moment, then my father breaks it with a laugh.

It’s not a nervous laugh. He’s not trying to cover his fear with a fake sense of superiority. Neither is it the desperate laugh of someone buying time to think.

It’s unhinged. Delighted. Full of a smug joy that turns my blood to ice.

He crouches behind me and yanks my head back by my neck until I can feel his hot breath on my skin.

“I told you, didn’t I? I told you he’d come back.” His words hold a sick sort of triumph. I press my lips together, refusing to respond. Refusing to play his game. Refusing to show him how terrified I am.

Because I just realized something terrible.

My father isn’t the least bit afraid. He’s standing five feet away from a centuries-old vampire Alpha who can presumably tear his throat out in mere seconds. And he’s… excited.

Which means I’ve seriously miscalculated. My father didn’t simply set a trap. He has something up his sleeve.

A plan… or a weapon… or a secret or⁠—

Something. Something that’s giving him the confidence to face down a male like Caelan and laugh in his face.

Fates…

We truly might not make it out alive. Neither of us.

A tear escapes my lower lashes, falling down my cheek and over my lips. It follows the same path as Caelan’s fingers when he touched me for the first time in the quiet stillness of my room. That moment feels like it happened ages ago.

The look on his face guts me.

Rage, hopelessness, grief. Like he’s terrified he’s about to watch me die and knows he can’t do anything to stop it. Like his mind is spinning in circles, following the same paths to the exact same realizations as mine.

My father snarls and his hand flexes harder, demanding I answer his taunt.

“Yes.”

The word comes out as a choked wheeze because he won’t release pressure on my neck until I respond, and that one word is all I can force out.

Tears fill my vision and before I can blink them away, another tear falls, trailing the first. Caelan following its path down my neck and over my collarbone, refusing to look away until it falls, blending with the cotton fibers of my dress.

“Search him,” Father commands with a final, sharp squeeze to my neck. Almost as soon as I register the weight of his hand lifting off my neck, he grips my arms by the wrist with both hands and jerks them behind my back. One hand slips and he doubles down, yanking my arms back so forcefully I have to bite my cheek to keep from screaming in pain.

I won’t scream. I refuse to give him the satisfaction. I won’t do anything to provoke Caelan into reacting on instinct. That’s probably exactly what Father wants. He hasn’t got a chance against him unless he can trick him into something.

Resolve hardens my insides. If this is my last night on earth, I’ll face it.