Chapter 2 - The Golden Cage
The air in the room suddenly felt entirely too thin to breathe.
I scrambled backward on the marble floor, putting distance between myself and the most feared man in New York.
"I am not a piece of property," I snapped, trying to hide the violent trembling in my hands.
Jared did not react to my anger.
He casually poured a glass of amber liquid at his wet bar.
"Brendan owes my family four million dollars," Jared explained calmly.
"He offered your life in exchange for a clean slate, claiming you were a highly skilled veterinary asset."
I stared at him in pure disbelief.
My abusive ex-boyfriend had ruined my life, and now he had literally traded me to a mafia boss.
I pushed myself off the floor and marched directly toward the glass elevator.
"I am going back to my clinic," I stated firmly.
I pressed the glowing call button, but nothing happened.
Jared took a slow sip of his drink.
"The elevator requires my biometric scan to descend," he said.
I spun around to face him, my heart hammering violently against my ribs.
"You cannot keep me here against my will."
"I can do whatever I want, Willa," Jared replied, his voice dangerously soft.
Suddenly, the Mastiff let out a weak whine from the center of the room.
I looked back and saw the dog struggling to stand on his trembling legs.
I rushed over and gently supported his heavy side to keep him from collapsing.
Jared watched me with an unreadable expression.
"His name is Titan," Jared said quietly.
I guided Titan to a velvet dog bed and carefully lowered him down.
"He needs intravenous fluids and a specific high-calorie paste immediately," I told Jared without looking up.
Jared nodded to Miles, who disappeared down a hallway and returned with a fully stocked medical kit.
I spent the next two hours setting up an IV line and slowly feeding Titan from a plastic syringe.
Jared never left the room, his dark eyes studying my every move.
When Titan finally drifted into a peaceful sleep, I stood up and wiped my hands on my jeans.
"He is stable for now, but he needs round-the-clock care," I said.
Jared stepped closer to me, smelling of expensive cologne and sheer power.
"Which is exactly why you will sleep in the guest room down the hall," he commanded.
"I am not your prisoner," I whispered fiercely.
Jared reached into his jacket and pulled out a small electronic tablet.
He tapped the screen and held it up for me to see.
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The live security footage showed the front entrance of my veterinary clinic in Brooklyn.
Standing on the sidewalk, holding a gasoline canister and a lighter, was Brendan.
