Chapter 4 - The Golden Cage
For the remaining five hours of the flight, Anya slept. She lay tucked against my chest, her breathing deep and even, her small cheek flushed with warmth. I didn't let her go, and Matteo didn't leave his seat. He watched us with a quiet, possessive intensity that began to make the warning bells in my head ring.
When the jet finally began its descent into JFK International Airport, the seatbelt sign chimed, and the bodyguards parted the velvet curtain.
"Mr. Volkov, the convoy is secured on the tarmac," Marcus, the scarred guard, reported. "We have bypassed customs. The medical team is waiting at the estate."
"Good," Matteo said, standing up and fastening his suit jacket. He looked down at me, his expression reverting to the unreadable stone mask of the Volkov syndicate leader. "Elena. Pack your things."
"I only have my carry-on," I said, gently shifting Anya to burp her before we landed. "Once we touch down, I'll hand Anya to your medical team. I have a connecting flight to Boston at eight."
Matteo didn't answer. He simply stared at me, his silence more chilling than any threat.
The plane touched down with a smooth, heavy thud, taxying away from the main terminals toward a private, heavily guarded hangar. Three black, armored SUVs were parked in a tight perimeter, surrounded by men in dark tactical gear holding submachine guns.
I felt a sudden, cold panic rise in my throat. This wasn't a normal airport arrival. This was a military operation.
"Mr. Volkov?" I asked, my voice trembling as I stood up, holding Anya close. "My bag... I need to get to the main terminal."
Matteo walked toward the cabin door as it hissed open, letting in the cool, damp air of the New York night. He paused, turning his head to look at me over his shoulder.
"You are not going to Boston, Elena," he said, his tone flat, absolute, and terrifyingly calm.
My breath caught. "What do you mean? My life is in Boston. My sister is waiting for me—"
"Your life in Boston is empty," Matteo interrupted, stepping closer until his shadow fell over me once more. "You have no husband. You have no children. You have a job that pays you pennies to transcribe the words of dying people. Here, you have my daughter. And more importantly, my daughter has you."
"You can't kidnap me!" I gasped, backing away, but Marcus was already standing behind me, blocking the aisle.
"It is not a kidnapping, Elena. It is a contract," Matteo said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a key on a heavy silver ring. "You will live at my estate on the Hudson. You will have your own wing, your own staff, and a salary that will ensure you never have to work another day in your life. You will nurse Anya until she is ready, and you will be protected by the most powerful family in this city."
"And if I say no?" I demanded, tears of frustration and fear spilling over my lashes.
May you like
Matteo stepped forward, his hand rising to gently, almost reverently, touch Anya’s soft dark hair. Then, his stormy gray eyes locked onto mine, stripping away any illusion of choice.
"Anya’s body has accepted you. She will not survive another transition, and I will not allow my daughter to starve," he whispered, his voice dropping into a deadly, possessive growl. "You saved her life, Elena. That means your life belongs to the Volkov family now. You are never going home."
