---
I hesitated.
The message from Riven glowed on the burner screen like a brand:
"Ready for your next lesson, pretty boy?"
I should have smashed the phone.
I should have thrown it into the river.
I should have blocked his number, changed mine, run far, far away.
Instead...
I texted back:
"Where?"
His reply came instantly.
"I'll come get you."
And just like that —
it was already too late.
---
An hour later, a black car slid to a stop outside my building.
The windows were tinted so dark they were almost mirrors.
The engine purred low, hungry.
I stood frozen at the curb.
The passenger door popped open, beckoning.
I climbed inside.
The door shut with a soft click that sounded, somehow, final.
Riven was driving.
He didn't look at me.
Didn't say a word.
Just pulled into the street, tires whispering over wet asphalt.
I gripped the seat as the city blurred past —
out of downtown, into the abandoned industrial zones where the air smelled like metal and old secrets.
"Where are we going?" I finally managed to ask.
His mouth curled slightly — a wolf baring teeth.
"You'll see."
---
We pulled up outside a massive building surrounded by crumbling walls and barbed wire.
No signs.
No lights.
No guards visible.
But I could feel them — the watchers — prickling against my skin.
Riven killed the engine and turned to me for the first time.
"Out," he said simply.
I obeyed.
---
Inside, the building was huge and hollow —
concrete floors, flickering fluorescent lights, rows of cages along the walls.
Not cages for animals.
Cages for people.
I froze.
Riven walked calmly ahead, not bothering to see if I was following.
"This is the Cage," he said casually, voice echoing.
"A training ground. A marketplace. A battlefield."
I swallowed hard.
"This is illegal."
He laughed — a low, rough sound.
"Everything worth doing is illegal," he said.
"You'll learn that."
He turned and looked at me — really looked — and something in his expression made my blood chill.
"You want to survive, don't you?" he asked softly.
I nodded.
"Then you'll train here.
Fight here.
Bleed here."
He stepped closer.
"And if you're good enough," he added, voice dropping,
"You might even live long enough to hate me for it."
---
We stopped in front of a cage.
It was empty — but stained.
The floor was dark with old blood.
The air smelled like iron and sweat.
Riven pulled a key from his jacket.
He tossed it to me.
"Get in."
I stared at him.
"You're joking."
His mouth twisted.
"Does it look like I'm joking?"
The silence stretched.
In the end, it wasn't a choice.
I stepped into the cage.
The door slammed shut behind me — the lock clicking like a gun cocking.
Riven leaned against the bars lazily, arms crossed.
"Lesson two," he said.
"Control."
---
At first, I didn't understand.
Then another figure appeared.
A man — huge, scarred, wearing gloves spattered with dried blood.
He carried a baton in one hand.
Riven's voice was cold and clear:
"Defend yourself."
The door at the far end of the cage creaked open.
The man stepped inside.
I backed away instinctively, heart hammering.
"No weapons?" I gasped.
Riven smiled thinly.
"You are the weapon."
---
The man lunged.
I dodged instinctively, pure adrenaline surging.
He swung the baton — a wide, brutal arc.
I ducked under it, my shoulder slamming into the bars.
Pain exploded down my side.
The man laughed — low and cruel.
I scrambled up, blood pounding in my ears.
Think, think, think—
I waited until he swung again —
then grabbed the cage bars, swinging my legs up and over, kicking him square in the chest.
He staggered back, cursing.
Riven's voice rang out, calm and detached:
"Better."
---
The fight blurred.
I moved on instinct — dodging, ducking, shoving.
Every breath hurt.
Every muscle screamed.
But somewhere under the fear —
under the pain —
something colder was awakening.
Something savage.
Something that wanted to survive.
---
Finally, after what felt like hours, the man stepped back.
He gave Riven a nod.
Riven returned it.
The cage door opened.
I stumbled out — bloody, shaking, but still standing.
Riven caught me as I sagged forward.
His hands were strong.
Warm.
Unforgiving.
He tilted my chin up, forcing me to look at him.
His eyes were molten gold, burning into mine.
"You lived," he said simply.
I panted, still trembling.
"Barely."
"Next time," he murmured, voice low and dangerous,
"You'll do more than survive.
You'll dominate."
He released me abruptly, stepping back.
"Clean yourself up," he ordered.
"Lesson three starts tomorrow."
I watched him walk away —
a dark silhouette against the cold, sterile light.
My heart thundered in my chest.
Because I knew —
without a doubt —
I was already trapped.
And part of me —
the part that scared me the most —
didn't want to leave.
---
That night, back in my apartment, I peeled off my torn clothes.
Bruises blossomed along my ribs.
Scrapes bloodied my knuckles.
But it wasn't the injuries that kept me awake.
It was the memory of Riven's hands on me —
steady.
Demanding.
Possessive.
It was the sound of his voice in my ear —
cold and commanding and cruelly intimate.
"You'll need me."
---
The burner phone buzzed at 2:00 AM.
I grabbed it without thinking.
One new message.
From Riven.
"You're stronger than you think, pretty boy.
I'll break you —
and rebuild you."
My hands trembled.
Not with fear.
With something darker.
Something more dangerous.
Something that whispered:
Yes.
Please.
---
[End of Chapter 4]
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