Caged by the Prince, Saved by the Monster - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

"It's not pity," I murmured, resting my head against Terrence's shoulder. "I just don't want to turn into them."
Two months later, the quiet afternoon at the D'Angelos' summer estate was ripped apart by the deafening roar of helicopter blades. The sound tore through the sky like a warning. Then, in a heartbeat, the chopper swooped low over the garden.
Desmond leaped out, his coat whipping around him like a storm given flesh. Before I could even blink, he lunged, grabbed my arm, and wrenched me off my feet.
"This time," he hissed in my ear as the cabin door slammed shut behind us, "you're not slipping away."
I caught one last glimpse of Terrence shrinking below as the helicopter lurched into the sky.
Inside, the engine's roar drowned out everything. Wind howled through the open doors, and my fingers dug into the armrests, knuckles white.
Desmond sat across from me, wild-eyed, unhinged. His breath came in ragged gasps, his hands twitching like they couldn't decide whether to grab hold or let go.
"Desmond!" I shouted over the chaos. "What the hell are you doing?!"
His hands shook as he pulled a velvet box from his coat. The lid snapped open, revealing a diamond ring that glinted like a knife in the sunlight.
"Cassie," he rasped, voice cracking. "I've thought about this for so long. You love me. You've always loved me..." The ring trembled in his grip.
"It was Gwen," he pleaded. "She twisted everything—made me believe the worst. But I see it now. I was wrong."
"I don't want to," I said, steady. "I didn't then, and I sure as hell don't now."
His face twisted. His pupils blew wide. His whole body coiled like a spring about to snap.
"WHY?!" he screamed.
Then, in a terrifying blur, he lunged for the controls.
"I have nothing left!" he howled. "The Caldwells cut me off, and now you're leaving me too?!"
The helicopter jerked violently. My stomach dropped as the nose pitched downward.
He shoved the pilot aside, scrambling for the controls.
"Marry me! Or we die together!"
I threw myself forward, grabbing for the stick.
Outside, the lake stretched below—blue, still, glinting in the afternoon sun.
In one desperate move, I yanked the emergency brake with everything I had.
The icy water swallowed all sound.
Silence.
Then darkness.
And in those last flickers before everything went black, it felt just like before—like being locked in that dog cage again. Cold steel. Breath stolen. His voice echoing like a curse.
"Lock her up."
When I woke up, I was staring at a snow-white ceiling.
Then Terrence's face came into view—drawn, pale, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. But the second he saw me stir, they lit up like dawn.
"Cassie," he said, voice rough with everything he couldn't say. "You're pregnant."
A muffled thud at the door.
Desmond stood there.
Or what was left of him.
Wrapped in gauze like a stitched-up ghost, his eyes sunken and hollow. He dropped to his knees and stayed there, motionless.
His gaze flicked to my stomach—still flat beneath the blanket—and he flinched like the sight burned him.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't have... I never should've put you in that cage."
Before I could speak, Terrence stepped between us.
Bodyguards swarmed in, dragging Desmond to the floor. He didn't resist. Just lay there, staring up at me like he didn't deserve to exist anymore.
His face was swollen. Blood crusted the bandages. And those eyes—full of regret, madness, loss.
"Get out," I said quietly, turning away.
It didn't take long for the news to break.
On screen, Desmond Caldwell knelt before the iron cage he'd once locked me in.
Again and again, he slammed his forehead against the ground. Blood streaked his face, pooled at his knees, smeared the steel bars red.
He remembered.
All of it.
And the weight of those memories—every monstrous thing he'd done—finally snapped something inside him. Whatever humanity he had left unraveled right there on camera.
As I stared at the screen, Terrence reached over and gently covered my eyes.
"Don't," he murmured. "You don't have to see that anymore."
I leaned into him, pressing my ear to his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat quiet the last of the storm inside me.
In this life, I'd broken the cycle. I wasn't anymore. I wasn't his.
The hospital door creaked open.
My father stepped in first. Then, one by one, the D'Angelo family followed, gathering around my bed. Their faces softened with relief, eyes shining with quiet joy.
Outside, spring sunlight spilled through the windows—golden, gentle, draping the room like a promise.
And in that moment, I finally understood.
Every bruise. Every scar.
Every time I thought I wouldn't make it.
It had all led me here.
What waited for me now was a love that was steady, lasting, unshakable.