Chapter 5: The Lavish Prison

Chapter Five – The Lavish Prison

POV: Levi

Levi woke to silence.

Not the kind he knew—no hum of library lights, no city traffic, no neighbors shifting in their cramped apartments. This silence was deliberate, pressing down like velvet curtains.

He stared at the ceiling. Frescoes of angels and serpents stretched above, gold leaf catching the morning light through heavy drapes. For a second, he thought it was a hotel room he’d only seen in brochures.

Then the ache in his wrists hit. The ties. The SUV. The gates yawning open. And Lucien’s eyes before the knife slid beneath the plastic.

He bolted upright, lungs seizing. The bed’s silk sheets clung like hands. Too soft, too generous. A prison disguised as paradise.

The room reeked of wealth: carved lions on the wardrobe, crystal decanters glowing on polished wood, portraits of unreadable men. A palace. A cage.

He shoved away the sheets and crossed the carpet. His clothes were gone. Someone had dressed him in black button-down and slacks. His throat closed. Stripped like a book torn of pages.

The door. Locked. He rattled it, pounded once, then pressed his forehead to the wood. Think. Don’t panic. Think.

Drawers, empty. Under the bed, nothing. Then a glint above the wardrobe. A camera. Another by the door. Watching, always watching.

He forced calm, feigning ignorance, but his skin crawled. At the window, iron bars cut across manicured gardens and fortress walls. Guards patrolled in flawless rhythm. Escape was impossible.

The lock clicked.

Lucien entered without knocking, his presence filling the room. No guards, no weapon, yet Levi’s pulse spiked as though one hung in the air.

Levi’s fists clenched. “How long do you plan on keeping me here?”

Lucien studied him like glassware under inspection. His mouth curved faintly. “That depends on you.”

“I told you the truth. I’m not Adrian. You have the wrong man.”

The words shattered uselessly. Lucien ignored them, pouring amber liquid into a glass, movements unhurried, as though time belonged to him.

He sipped, eyes fixed. “You say you’re not Adrian. Yet you never tell me who you are. Only what you are not.”

The statement pierced. Levi’s chest tightened. He thought of dusty stacks, ink and paper, nights alone locking library doors. A quiet life of order, not importance.

“I’m nobody you want,” he managed.

Lucien’s lips curved, not with warmth but certainty. “Wrong. You’re exactly what I want.”

The words sank like a blade.

Lucien closed the space, abandoning the glass. His presence shrank the air. Levi tried to stand firm, though his legs trembled.

Lucien adjusted his collar, fingers grazing lightly, deliberate as a brand. Levi’s nerves screamed.

“You don’t leave. You don’t disobey. When I ask for truth, you’ll give it,” Lucien murmured, smoke and leather clinging to him.

“And if I don’t?” Levi forced.

Lucien’s eyes gleamed. “Then I’ll teach you how.”

The silence stretched until Levi thought it might break him. Then Lucien stepped back, unhurried, and left.

“Breakfast will be brought up. Eat. You’ll need your strength.”

The lock clicked shut.

The silence returned heavier than before. Levi sat, trembling against sheets that smothered rather than comforted.

The cameras blinked.

And Levi understood: the cage was not the bars, nor the locks. It was Lucien himself, and it was already closing around him.