When we arrived back at Delia's, Cage was out cold. Nick and Heath ran out of the house, frowning. Heath had a cigarette stuck between his lips and leaned against one of the porch columns, not bothering to help Cage out of the car. He fixed me with a hateful stare, blowing smoke into the air lazily.

There was nothing for me to do except watch as Nick and Micheal dragged Cage into the house. Heath was still standing there. To get inside, I had to pass by him and it wasn't a very preferable thing to do. But I wasn't about to stand out in the cold just because I was afraid of walking past a man. A very tall and intimidating man, but that was whatever.

Bracing myself, I climbed up the stairs and tried to walk past Heath with a casual facade until his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.

"Don't touch me." I tried to make myself sound a lot more confident than I felt. Heath scared me more than Cage did, and that was saying a lot. He was the only one I didn't interact with. After what happened in that car ride to Luna Lofts, a continent between us wasn't enough distance. Anger curled up in the core of my abdomen. "Don't ever lay a hand on me, Heath. You have no damn right."

"Oh, shut up." He scoffed with annoyance. "You are such a bitch."

"What is your problem?" I snapped, trying to keep my voice lowered so it wouldn't attract anyone's attention. I knew exactly whose side Cage would take if he ever found out, and I wasn't going to risk anyone's life under my name. "I haven't done anything to you, Heath. Remember that it was your boss who kidnapped me. I'm not here by choice. I just tried to escape before Micheal found me."

"My problem-" His hazel eyes glowered at me. "-is that I don't trust you. I don't give a damn how much Cage cares about you. Not that he cares about you at all. If it was up to me, you'd be dead by now."

"Wow. Mighty words for a man who takes orders from the king I have wrapped around my little pinkie. You hate me because Cage gives me more attention than you, don't you?" What I was saying was utterly despicable, but I had come to the end of my rope with Heath. "Because you have been with Cage for years and I've been with him for three days. And who has more power over Cage Vickers, Heath?"

The smirk on his face was filled with suppressed fury. "See, that's where you got it all twisted, November. You have nothing over Cage. It's all an act, sweetheart. Cage doesn't care about you and he's most certainly not going to let a little teenage girl control him. Cage doesn't give two shits about anyone but himself. Can you really be so naive to believe that you can change him? He's too far gone to bring back his decency. He's playing a game with you and he's winning. It's all in your head, love."

Heath pushed himself off the column and straightened up, fixing me with a look that made me believe every word that came out of his mouth. "How many times do you think we have seen this happen, November? You're not the first girl that's slept in Cage Vicker's bed, and you will not be the last. He's a player, he's a manipulator, and he's a heartless bastard. You cannot make him anything else. It's fun to see you try, though."

"I don't believe you."

"Your problem."

"I-"

"This can only end in one scenario, and that's you dead in a body bag." Heath growled. "Stick around and see. Or, you know, don't. The sooner Cage realizes he's had enough of you, the better for all of us. You are nothing but an inconvenience."

What Heath said was probably true, no matter how much I wanted to deny it. I trusted his outlook a lot more than my own. He's known Cage for years. He knew who Cage really was. But Cage put up such a good act. It was hard to separate the truth from the many lies. I was at a loss of what to do anymore. Trying to escape didn't work, talking to Cage didn't work, and attempting to bring lightheart to situations only came back to bite me right on my little butt. There was just too many volatile factors to let me sleep peacefully at night.

Heath gave me the mockery of a smile and went inside the house, letting the dead cigarette drop from his fingers and onto the clean now. After a moment, I decided there was nothing else I could do, at least not for today. My fingers were turning blue from the cold. I needed something. I needed a shower.

"Delia went to bed." Nick said when he saw me approaching the living room. "We'll introduce you tomorrow. Heath is monitoring the security cameras in the basement and Micheal is in his room. Cage is awake, he's been asking for you. Your bedroom is on the far left, the last door at the end of the hallway. Do you want anything to eat? I can make a mean risotto."

The wave of information took a moment to settle in my distracted mind. "Thank you for the offer, but no." I leaned against the doorway, warming myself up. The living room was green and pretty, with lilac chairs and a blazing fireplace. "I didn't know you cooked, Nick."

"Oh, yeah." He nodded. "I'm kinda the, you know, main chef around here. Not many people are willing to come here and cook for us and ordering out is pretty risky. Delia is the only other person besides me who would be happy to make any food that's not processed."

"How did Delia even get mixed up with you guys?" I chuckled at the contrast. "She's a sweet old Russian lady."

"You'd be surprised." Nick perched on the couch arm, fiddling with a piece of string. "Nothing is ever as it appears with us. Delia Kosnove, have you ever heard that name before? She used to be a professional wrestler. Got pretty famous in the 60's, too, until they asked for a drug test and found she was a heroin addict. We did a few trades with Delia until she decided to go clean. Funny thing is, even after we stopped doing business, Cage still kept contact with Delia and he never does that."

"People leave bigger impressions than they think." I murmured, mulling over what Heath said. "Words can, too. You guys are a funny group of criminals, you know. Especially you and Micheal. I know that being all badass is kinda your thing, Nick, but you don't seem like it. At least not when you don't have a gun in your hand. I just don't understand."

"You don't understand what, November?"

"You. And Micheal. And Heath and Delia and Cage. Everything about the Crows. Take it from the commoner, I never thought that it was going to end up like this. End up knowing you all like this, I mean. For such high class criminals, Cage doesn't really do the whole kidnapping thing properly. Shouldn't I be locked up in a basement, tied to a chair with duct tape over my mouth and a gun pointed at my head?"

Nick smiled. "I think you might have watched a few too many action movies. But this is the first time we ever had a hostage. We don't really kidnap people. We just kill them."

"How primitive." I said gingerly.

"Not enough."

I straightened up, shoving my hands into my pockets as Heath came up the basement stairs. He looked over his shoulder and gave me a knowing smirk, and then disappeared from my view. Nick dropped the string onto the coffee table and plopped down on the couch, both legs dangling over the arm. "I'm going to bed." I told him. "Goodnight, Nick."

"Goodnight, November." was his cheerful reply.

Trudging up the stairs, my stomach did flips as I neared the door at the end of the hallway. Heath's warnings whispered themselves over and over in my head. Nothing but an inconvenience. Nothing but a burden. Nothing but an incommode. What was I to Cage, really? What did he see me as? Because I saw him as a dangerous criminal with really great hair and loss of humanity. He probably saw me as an annoying teenage girl with one missing eyebrow and a geek personality.

I raised my hand to knock on the door, but then I thought about Cage answering and then having to talk to him face to face so I decided otherwise. Turning the doorknob, I strode in and nearly tripped. Not because there was a threshold, but because there wasn't. I had gotten so used to there being a threshold that I didn't notice when there wasn't one- in other words, I almost fell on my face but I caught myself at the last second and straightened up like nothing had happened.

Never mind the fact that Cage saw the whole thing.

"Are you okay?" His eyebrows furrowed with a concern that I couldn't tell was an act or not.

My cheeks flamed up. "Of course." The squeak that left my mouth didn't sound like me at all.

"You almost tripped."

"No need to point that out, Captain Obvious."

Cage was sitting on the bed, his boots crossed over one another, and face expressionless. His skin looked paler and his eyes more tired. They were a languid green like jewels holding less emotions than a real stone could, which was nothing. No matter how pretty the diamond was, there was always a cost to having it. His lips were set straight in a dead expression, his face stubbed with a five o' clock shadow that was now almost midnight. It looked rough to the touch and I wanted to run my fingers along his skin, make him feel as every bit of emotion as I did.

The bed dipped with his weight. The white sheets were all over the place, mussed up in the process of Cage sleeping without a care in the world, without a single thought about the repercussions of his reckless actions. Snow stuck to the windows, covering the glass with pretty snowflakes in a world of white. A green towel was tossed carelessly over a chair and it was then that I noticed his hair was wet. Cage must have taken a shower. I wonder how he smelled-

"Are you okay?" Cage repeated, his eyes trailing down from my head to my toes, as if inspecting me for damage. There was nothing physically wrong with me. The mess was inside and Cage would never see or understand that, and I would never tell him. Weaknesses were a vulnerability.

"I told you." I pulled off my shoes and laid them by the door. "I'm fine."

"That is not what I'm asking, November." His voice was soft, not daring to break the delicate air. "Are you okay?"

I met his eyes with a coldness of my own. "Why don't you answer that question yourself, Cage? You kidnapped me, you won't let me go, you won't let me talk to my sister, and you play around with everyone's emotions as if toys didn't exist. You are holding me hostage for no reason except for the fact that you enjoy hurting me over and over again for your own amusement. Just because you have no heart doesn't mean I don't either. The short answer to your stupid question?" I snapped, growing angrier by the second. "No, Cage. I'm not okay. I won't be until you let me go. Stop asking questions that you already know the answer to."

Cage stood up so suddenly that it made me twitch in surprise. "Didn't we already have this conversation, November? Watch your words-"

"Or what?" I argued with a pain in my chest. "What are you going to do, Cage? Are you going to kill me? Are you going to kill my sister, maybe? You talk such big words for such a-"

Cage picked up his gun.

The pain in my chest grew and finally exploded into something dangerous. I couldn't stop myself from spitting out the words that would only come back to bite me. "Do it." I whispered, tears itching the corners of my eyes. His furious stare matched my own. "I dare you, Cage. Shoot me. Or maybe that's too easy. You love it when they fight back, don't you? Must give you such a thrill.''

He walked and stopped right in front of me, so close that I could see each tiny detail on the scar on the corner of his mouth. Cage was even more beautiful up close. We stood in silence, glaring at each other, neither of us wanting to declare defeat by looking away.

He was so tall, he towered over my little frame. The height difference was laughable. Frowning, I turned away to grab the chair from the desk, set it down in front of Cage, and then climbed up on the chair to keep the little staring game going. Oh, how the tables have tabled. Ha. Who was taller now? Definitely not Cage.

The anger in his eyes died down and became replaced with amusement. Cage had to crane his neck to look up at me because of the chair. I admit, it was pretty silly. I was just tired of him looking down at me so I did something about it. Unfortunately, it was not the right something to do.

"You're ridiculous." Cage growled.

"You're mean." My defiance kept me from stepping off the chair. I kinda liked standing on it. I could see the top of the curtains, for once.

"You're a nerd." He scoffed.

"You're a bully." I retorted coldly.

"You're beautiful, November."

"You're a- wait, what?" His words didn't settle into my brain immediately. I stopped trying to search for an insult and stared at Cage through squinted eyes. The only thing I saw in his was complete and full sincerity. Or maybe that was an act, too. After the stunt he pulled with the second time drugging, I didn't trust anything that came out of his kissable mouth.

Cage turned away, his eyes dark. "What happened to your arm?"

Relief shot through my stomach at the needed subject change. I picked at the makeshift bandage Micheal made out of paper towels before we arrived back to Delia's home. The pain still lingered, although not as great as before. The laceration wasn't as bad as I imagined. At least the tracking chip was out of me. "I took your stupid tracker out before I left."

He raised his eyebrows. "Impressive."

I smirked. "Was it?"

"Yes. I'll have Heath administer another one tomorrow." was his casual reply. Cage went back to the bed. The blood spot on the back of his neck had grown. He pushed away the sheets and sat back down, tapping the heel of his black combat boots against the wooden floor.

Giving Cage my coldest glare, I stalked towards the en suite bathroom. "Over my dead body."

"That can be arranged, too."

His stiff replies were getting to me, as much as I hated to admit it. Over and over again, I failed to convince myself that Cage Vickers didn't, couldn't, and wouldn't get under my skin. What Heath said had a lot of truth behind it. Of course I wasn't the first girl Cage messed with. The Crows made a lot of money off of brothels they owned and ran in Germany a few years back until it was busted. It should come as no surprise that he was, for lack of a better word, a player.

That was another reason why I was so wary of actually feeling anything but hate for Cage. There was no scenario, not even in alternate universes, where we could work out. And I didn't even know what ''we'' was. For now, I was just a hostage. Nothing more, nothing less.

But there was no explanation for all the times that Cage was something other than a cruel heartless monster. Like the time we sat on the couch and he asked about my scar and we fell asleep together. Or the time he wrapped up my sprained ankle. Or how carefully he crushed my lower lip between his teeth. Or how happy Cage seemed when he fell asleep on my stomach back in Luna Lofts. What justified that? Was that side of Cage really a part of who he was or was that just pure manipulation as well?

"I guess I'm sleeping next to you again, right?" I mumbled angrily.

He nodded, staring at the floor.

There was nothing more I wanted to say. I had my fill of information for one night. I made sure the bathroom door was locked, twice. Running the water until it scalded, I shed off my clothes and slipped in to the tub. I wanted to stay there forever, watching the distortions of my skin made by the rippling water until it eventually lost the warmth and I had to get out. Plucking a shirt from the closet, I dried myself off and slipped it on over my undergarments.

When I walked back into the bedroom, the lights were off and Cage was already fast asleep. At least I think he was. Again, I was never sure about anything when it came to him. Slipping in beside his hulking figure, I curled under the covers and let images float through my drowsy head, mostly of Fern.

Thankfully, Cage didn't say a word to me for the rest of the night.