Chapter 26 The cage pt2
“They killed him,” she sobbed suddenly, voice rising into a scream that echoed off the walls. “They killed him, Mom! They killed him in the name of hatred!”
Her mother froze.
“What?” she whispered, as if she hadn’t heard. As if the sentence didn’t belong in this world.
Isabella grabbed her mother’s arms so hard her fingers hurt.
“They killed him!” she screamed again. “He protected me. He stood in front of me. He didn’t even—he didn’t even know—”
Her voice broke.
She couldn’t breathe.
Her mother’s eyes filled again, panic spilling through her expression.
“Who?” her mother demanded, shaking. “Who killed who? Isabella, you’re not making sense—are you bleeding? Are you—”
Isabella shook her head violently. “No, I’m—Mom, I’m not hurt. I’m not—” She laughed once, hysterical. “I wish I was hurt. I wish my pain was something you could see.”
Her mother’s hands trembled.
“I don’t understand,” she sobbed. “Why are you talking like this? Where have you been? We thought—Marco said—”
Isabella turned sharply toward the stairs.
Marco had entered the foyer behind them without a sound.
For a moment he stood there, watching the scene like it was inevitable.
His mother’s face tightened with helpless fear.
“Marco,” she cried, stepping away from Isabella. “What is happening? What is she saying? Who is dead? What did you do?”
Marco’s gaze didn’t soften.
He looked at Isabella like she was a problem to be solved.
“Enough,” he said quietly.
Isabella stepped forward, trembling with rage and grief.
“You did this,” she whispered.
Marco’s expression hardened. “I brought you home.”
“You killed him,” she said, voice shaking. “You killed him because you couldn’t stand that I chose something other than fear.”
Marco’s jaw clenched.
“I saved you,” he snapped, and the first crack of emotion broke through his control. “Do you think I don’t know what he is? Do you think I don’t know what his family has done?”
Isabella let out a sob that turned into a scream.
“You don’t know anything!” she shouted. “You’re blind! You’re blinded by hatred and you’re dragging all of us into the grave with you!”
Her mother made a desperate sound, hands covering her mouth.
“Stop,” she begged. “Please—both of you—stop—”
Marco stepped forward.
His voice dropped, dangerous again. “Take her upstairs.”
Isabella backed away instinctively. “No.”
Two men appeared from the hallway like shadows made solid.
Isabella’s mother stepped between them, frantic.
“Marco, don’t—she’s—she’s terrified—”
Marco’s eyes flicked to his mother, cold.
“She’ll calm down when she remembers who she is.”
Isabella stared at him, disbelief turning to terror.
“No,” she whispered again. “Marco, please—”
“Now,” Marco ordered.
Hands reached for her.
Isabella fought, twisting away, but her body was exhausted, grief weighing her down like chains.
“Mom!” she screamed.
Her mother tried to reach her, but another hand held her back gently, as if she might break.
Isabella’s mother sobbed. “Marco, don’t do this—please—please—”
Isabella was dragged up the stairs.
Each step felt like a nail driven into her chest.
At the end of the hallway, the door waited.
Isabella recognized it.
The guest room that had never been a guest room.
The room they used when someone needed to be… contained.
Marco followed behind, his footsteps calm, controlled.
The men shoved her inside.
Isabella stumbled.
The room was bare.
A bed with plain sheets.
A small bathroom door.
And the windows—
Bars.
Metal bars set into the frame like a cage dressed up as architecture.
No phone.
No computer.
Nothing.
Isabella turned, breath coming in frantic bursts.
Marco stood in the doorway, filling it like a shadow.
Her mother’s sobs echoed faintly from downstairs, muffled by walls that had heard too many cries.
Isabella’s voice broke. “You can’t keep me here.”
Marco’s face remained unreadable.
“You’ll stay here until you remember who you are.”
The door shut.
The lock clicked.
And Isabella’s world became four walls and the sound of her own shattered breathing.