The Cage They Built

He built this himself. We’re only going to hand them the file.”

“Okay,” I breathed, and let the phone slip from my fingers.

Part 3 — The Extraction

The next thirty-six hours were an exercise in endurance. I sat downstairs, feigning obedience, and let Miriam lecture me on wifely submission while Garrick complained about his golf tournaments.

They believed I was broken.

At two a.m. Wednesday, the low hum of two black SUVs came up the driveway.

I didn’t pack. I slipped out the back doors, my surgical bindings hidden under a heavy sweater. Four private medical specialists met me at the threshold and lifted me carefully into the cabin before the house’s security ever registered the gate.