Chapter 3

The morning light never touched the Queen’s Room. Heavy velvet drapes sealed out the dawn, leaving the chamber cloaked in gray gloom. Kaitlyn stirred, her eyes fluttered open, disoriented by the unfamiliar scent of rosewood.

She sat up slowly, her body stiff from sleeping on the hard floor. The grand bed stood before her…too large, too cold, a prison disguised in silk and shadow. Every inch of this place whispered of danger.

Her stomach rumbled. The untouched tray of food from the night before sat on a nearby table.

The roasted chicken's scent had faded, replaced by the bitter aroma of fear. She clenched her fists, forcing back the hunger eating at her insides.

She wouldn’t eat. She wouldn’t accept this cage. Not yet.

Her gaze drifted to the massive wardrobe carved with thorny roses, to the grand mirror that reflected only her pale, broken form.

Her heart tightened as flashes of her life outside this place flickered in her mind. Her tiny room, the sunlit kitchen, the sound of music in the mornings. Gone. Stolen.

Her father’s face rose in her thoughts. Secrets. Lies. Deals he’d hidden from her. She pressed her trembling fingers to her lips. "What did you do, Dad?" she whispered into the silence.

But her resolve wavered when the door creaked open again.

The housekeeper from before entered, her dark dress rustling against the polished floor.

She carried a new tray filled with fresh bread, hot tea, fruit and set it silently on the table. Kaitlyn tensed.

"You should eat," the woman said softly, her gaze flicking toward the bruises on Kaitlyn’s wrists. "He will expect you downstairs soon."

Kaitlyn hugged her knees, her voice raw. "What’s your name?"

A pause. "Elena."

"Elena... help me. Please. I have to get out of here."

Elena’s eyes darkened with pity but also fear. "You are safer here than out there. Out there... They want you dead. He’s the only reason you’re still breathing."

Kaitlyn’s heart sank. Even the servants were trapped in Callum Drake’s web.

"Why does he care? Why not let the cartel take me?" she asked bitterly.

Elena shook her head, glancing nervously at the door. "You carry your father’s secrets and Callum Drake never lets go of what’s his."

"I’m not his!"

Elena said nothing. She bowed her head and left, the door clicking shut behind her.

Kaitlyn stood, pacing the room. The walls closed in with every step. No escape. No window she could squeeze through. She tugged at the locked door. Useless.

Her chest squeezed painfully. Her nails bit into her palms.

“Was this how it would end?” She asked no one.

“Would she be forgotten in some cursed mansion while the outside world moved on?”

Tears burned her eyes but she blinked them away. She wouldn’t break. Not yet.

A soft knock broke the silence.

"Get dressed," Callum’s voice commanded from outside the door. "You’re joining me for breakfast."

"I’m not hungry!"

"Be wise, little mouse. Or I’ll drag you down myself, clothed or not."

Her cheeks flamed. Rage and fear tangled in her chest but she pulled on the fresh clothes Elena left…a silk blouse, soft black pants.

Strange that her prison wardrobe fit perfectly. As if he’d known her size all along.

The door opened.

Callum stood there, dressed in dark slacks and a black shirt, cuffs undone. His presence filled the doorway like a shadow. His sharp gaze swept over her form, lingering at her throat, her wrists.

"Follow me."

His command brought no refusal. Kaitlyn stepped out, her heart hammering. The hallway stretched long and empty, lined with cruel paintings and dark wood.

"Breakfast? Or my last meal?" she snapped, her voice tight.

His dark chuckle was low and dangerous. "Even prisoners need to eat and I enjoy my meals with interesting company."

They descended the grand staircase. The manor smelled of leather, aged wood, and faint gunpowder.

Guards lingered in the shadows. Silent. Armed. Watching.

"Run, and they’ll shoot you," Callum murmured beside her. "I’d hate to waste good soldiers on a foolish escape."

She glared at him. "You think you own me."

"I do."

They entered a vast dining hall. A long table gleamed under an iron chandelier. Silver platters held fresh fruit, pastries, and eggs. Kaitlyn’s stomach twisted at the rich aroma, but her throat felt like sandpaper.

"Sit," he ordered.

She hesitated, then obeyed. His gaze lingered on her bruised wrists. A flicker of something—regret?—crossed his face, gone in an instant.

Callum poured her tea himself. The delicate clink of porcelain made her flinch.

"Eat."

"Poisoned, no doubt."

He smirked. "If I wanted you dead, little mouse, you’d be buried by now."

She nibbled at bread, hunger overpowering defiance. His gaze never left her.

"Why are you really keeping me here?" she demanded. "What is it you want from me?"

Callum leaned back, swirling dark coffee in his cup, eyes gleaming like cold steel.

"Your father hid something. Information. Power. Secrets worth killing for. The cartel believes you know. I believe you don't but until I am certain, you remain here."

"What secrets? I don’t know anything!"

"Then you’ll stay until you remember or until I find them myself."

She gripped her fork so tight her knuckles whitened. "And when you do? What happens to me then?"

His dark eyes burned into hers. "That depends on you."

A quiet servant entered, whispering into Callum’s ear. His expression darkened.

"Trouble?" Kaitlyn asked, bitter curiosity rising.

"An unexpected guest," he murmured. "Stay here."

As he stood to leave, Elena appeared silently by Kaitlyn’s side, pretending to adjust the silver tray. Her fingers brushed the edge of Kaitlyn’s plate, slipping a folded scrap of paper beneath the napkin before vanishing without a word.

Callum’s shadow stretched across the room as he strode out, the weight of his presence lingering.

Alone now, Kaitlyn’s gaze darted to the door, then the windows. No escape. Her hand curled into a fist.

Her eyes fell on the plate. The edge of something white peeked from beneath the folded napkin.

The note.

Heart racing, she reached for it…

But froze.

The low rumble of male voices outside caught her ear. Sharp, urgent… dangerous.

She stood slowly and carefully crept to the grand dining room door, pressing herself against it.

Their voices were muffled but words slipped through the cracks.

"She’s here, Drake. We know it," a gruff voice said.

Callum’s voice, cold and steady, answered, "You forget whose house you stand in. You don’t demand anything from me."

A nervous laugh. "No offense. The cartel simply wants what they paid for. The girl. Her father’s debt was ours to claim."

"You will claim nothing," Callum said softly, the kind of softness that promised death. "Kaitlyn stays here. Under my protection."

"You’re protecting her?" the stranger asked, surprise and suspicion thick in his tone. "Why? You owe us nothing."

A dangerous pause. Kaitlyn held her breath.

"What her father hid is worth far more than her life," Callum finally said. "When I have what I want, maybe then you’ll get your turn. Until then, leave RavenPort or be removed."

Silence. Then hurried footsteps retreating down the hall.

Kaitlyn stepped back, heart pounding wildly.

They came for me. To take me. To kill me.

She collapsed into the nearest chair, her body shaking. Her tea sat untouched, forgotten, the taste of terror filling her mouth.

The cartel wanted her. Callum kept her not for kindness but because she was worth more alive than dead.

She clenched her fists.

"I have to escape..." she whispered, but the truth burned in her chest. There was nowhere to run.

Not from Callum.

Not from the cartel.

Not from the secrets her father left behind.