The Prisoner of Silk: 1. The Penthouse Cage

The first thing she felt was silk.

Not rough ropes, not steel cuffs, not cold concrete. Silk sheets, cool and slippery against her bare skin. When her eyes opened, it wasn’t darkness or a cell that greeted her. It was light. A wall of glass stretched floor to ceiling, revealing the city spread like a sea of stars below. She was high up—penthouse high, skyscraper high. This was paradise. 

Her breath caught, the air too rich, too perfumed with something expensive. The room around her was opulent—white marble floors, black velvet chairs, golden accents that gleamed under warm lights. It was a palace in the sky. And she was its prisoner. She knew being held prisoner in such a place could not be called wickedness. At least that was what she was thinking as she looked around. 

She sat up too fast, the sheet pooling in her lap. That was when she realized—she was naked. Her throat burned with shame, fury. Her last memory was a sharp sting in her arm, voices speak