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Corbin returns a short while later and opens the door and allows me to crawl to the bathroom so I can go pee.

When I sit on the toilet, he stands outside the bathroom with the door open.

As soon as I finish, I fall to the bathroom floor and crawl out.

Back into my cage I go.

Corbin locks it.

I’ve made a bed for myself.

Pillows and a blanket.

I’m curled up, feeling achy and tired. My mouth is so dry. The whiskey has definitely made me a little drunk too. All that hard fucking and no water… a glass of whiskey? I’m definitely drunk right now.

Corbin comes back into the bedroom with a bottle of water.

He crouches and opens the cage and tosses the water in for me.

After he locks the door again, he says, “I took care of the other issue for you, darling.”

I stare at him.

I swallow hard.

Corbin is now in jeans, but nothing else. He reaches for his back pocket and takes out my phone.

My heart jumps into my throat.

I want to scream at him that if he has my phone turned on then that means Chad could possibly track me. There will be pings and other tech stuff that I don’t quite understand but I’ve seen in crime documentaries.

“All is well, darling,” Corbin says with an evil grin.

My body shivers. My eyes are wide.

Please tell me the man I’m secretly fucking text my fiancé, pretending to be me…?

“If you ever make that face at me again, darling, I’ll lock you in that cage for days,” Corbin growls.

“I’m… sorry…”

He stands up and stares down at me from outside the cage.

The seconds pass.

“You’re fucking beautiful, Katie. So fucking beautiful.”

Butterflies explode from their decades-long chrysalis in my belly.

Corbin walks away.

I tuck myself in, looking around, reminding myself that I’m in a fucking cage. A dog crate. Locked up.

I’m still naked too.

All I have is a blanket and two pillows.

My wrists and my ankles ache. They’re tender to touch and even more tender to move.