All Chapters of GLIDED CAGE: Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

9 Chapters

CHAPTER 1

The sun didn’t rise for Milo; it merely suggested itself through the sheer, cream-colored curtains of his bedroom.Milo sat at the edge of his bed, his toes curling into the plush white rug. He looked down at himself, a sight that usually brought a flush of heat to his cheeks. Even in a simple oversized sleep shirt, he couldn't hide the way his body was built. His skin was pale, almost translucent like fine bone china, and beneath the fabric, his hips flared into soft, wide curves that felt entirely too feminine for a boy of nineteen. His "feminine" face stared back at him from the vanity mirror—big, doe-like brown eyes framed by lashes that were too long, and hair that was a chocolate-colored mess of fluffy, bouncy curls.He reached for a binder, then hesitated. His parents hated when he constricted himself. "You’re perfect as you are, Milo," his mother would say, kissing his forehead. But his mother didn't see the way the boys at the university looked at him. They didn't see the way

CHAPTER 2

The university hallway felt three miles long when you were trying to be invisible.Milo clutched his bag to his chest, the heavy canvas acting as a shield against the eyes he felt boring into him. He could hear them before he saw them. Miller and his group of friends—guys who spent more time in the gym than the library and seemed to have a personal vendetta against anything they couldn't understand."Look at that," Miller’s voice rang out, dripping with a mock-sweetness that made Milo’s stomach turn. "If it isn't the campus doll. Hey, Milo! Where’d you get those pants? Do they even make them in the men's section, or did you shop in your sister’s closet again?"Milo kept his head down, his fluffy brown hair falling over his eyes. "Please," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I just want to go to lab.""Oh, he wants to go to lab!" Miller laughed, stepping into Milo’s path and forcing him to stop. He leaned in close, looming over Milo’s 5'5" frame. "You know, with a face that pretty and

CHAPTER 3

The world was a smear of grey stone and cruel laughter. Without his glasses, Milo felt untethered, floating in a sea of predatory shapes. He reached out, his fingers trembling as they brushed the cold, damp grass, searching for the frames that allowed him to navigate a world that already felt too sharp for him."Looking for these, Princess?" Miller’s voice was right above him. Milo heard the distinct crunch of a boot heel pressing into plastic and glass.Milo’s heart stuttered. A sob caught in his throat, making his chest heave, the movement straining the fabric of his oversized hoodie. "Why?" he whispered, his voice cracking. "I didn't do anything to you.""You exist," Miller sneered, reaching down to grab a fistful of Milo’s fluffy brown hair. "You walk around here with those hips and that face, looking like you’re waiting for someone to—""Let go of him."The voice didn't sound human. It sounded like the tectonic plates of the earth shifting. It was a low, guttural vibration that M

CHAPTER 4

The weight of the sunglasses in Milo’s hand was a strange comfort. They were heavy, expensive, and carried the faint scent of motor oil and something else – something clean and masculine, like distant cedar or crisp autumn air. He had retrieved his broken glasses from the grass, the lenses spiderwebbed with cracks, a mirror to his own shattered composure. But these, the ones the shadow-man had given him, felt like a promise.He sat on a bench outside the campus library, the frantic energy of the earlier encounter slowly ebbing, leaving behind a cold, hollow ache. Who was he? The figure had been a blur of power, a fleeting titan against the harsh glare of the sun. All Milo remembered was the sheer scale of him, the rumble of his voice, and the swift, brutal efficiency with which he had dispatched his tormentors."Milo? There you are! I was so worried!"A soft voice pulled him from his thoughts. Liam, his best friend and fellow bookworm, rushed towards him, a worried frown etched on his

CHAPTER 5

The week that followed was the strangest of Milo’s life. He couldn't shake the feeling that the air behind him was always just a few degrees warmer than it should be, or that the shadows in the corner of his eye were more solid than they had any right to be.He had gone back to his routine—head down, oversized hoodie pulled low, heart hammering against his ribs every time a group of boisterous students walked past. But something had changed. The world felt… cushioned.Milo sat in the back of his Advanced Literature class, his fingers nervously tracing the spine of a worn copy of The Iliad. He was thinking about the Shadow. Since that day in the park, the bullies had been strangely absent. Miller hadn't cornered him at his locker. The girls who usually snickered at his feminine walk were suddenly preoccupied when he passed. It was as if a silent decree had been issued across the campus: Milo is off-limits.He didn't know that three rows back, in the very last seat near the door, a gian

CHAPTER 6

The rain in the city didn't fall; it descended like a heavy, grey curtain, turning the university campus into a watercolor painting of blurred edges and slick pavement. For Milo, the rain was a nightmare. It made his hair frizz, it made the ground slippery, and most importantly, it made his old, hand-me-down bicycle almost impossible to ride. He was pedaling furiously toward the campus gates, his legs straining. He had stayed late in the music wing, lost in the soft melodies of a piano piece he was practicing, and now he was late for his parents' anniversary dinner. Clang. The sound was sharp and final. Milo’s feet suddenly spun uselessly against the pedals. He wobbled, his heart jumping into his throat, before managing to plant his feet on the wet asphalt just before he toppled over. He looked down, his lower lip trembling. The chain had snapped, lying in a greasy, tangled heap on the ground. "Oh no," he whispered, the sound lost in the downpour. He was two miles from home, his

CHAPTER 7

The sunglasses felt like a heavy secret in the front pocket of Milo’s backpack.For the last three days, Milo had been a different person. He didn't just trudge to class; he scanned the horizon. Every time the distant roar of an engine echoed through the campus, his heart did a frantic, clumsy somersault against his ribs. He had spent hours in front of his mirror, touching the place on his waist where his hands had gripped the biker’s leather jacket. He could still feel the vibration of the Harley in his bones—a steady, powerful thrum that made him feel, for the first time, like he wasn't just a "porcelain doll" waiting to be broken."You're doing it again," Liam whispered, nudging Milo in the university cafeteria.Milo jumped, his face flushing a brilliant shade of pink that made his white skin glow. "Doing what?""The 'Daydreaming about the Mystery Knight' look. You’ve been staring at that apple for ten minutes, Milo. It’s not going to turn into a motorcycle."Milo ducked his head,

CHAPTER 8

The house was a flurry of activity that Milo usually found comforting, but today, it felt like a tightening noose. His mother, a woman of boundless energy and even more boundless love for her son, was in "Hostess Mode." The scent of roasting lamb and expensive wine filled the air, and the fine china—the kind that was only used for "transformative" events—had been laid out on the mahogany table."Milo, darling, please come here," his mother called from the master bedroom.Milo walked in, his shoulders hunched, feeling small in his usual oversized grey hoodie. "Yes, Mom?"His mother turned around, holding a garment bag like it contained the Holy Grail. "We are hosting the Vance family tonight. This isn't just a business dinner, Milo. It’s an introduction. A beginning. And I want you to look like the beautiful young man you are."She unzipped the bag to reveal a suit. It wasn't the boxy, charcoal suits his father wore. It was tailored, slim-fit, and made of a soft, cream-colored wool tha

CHAPTER 9

The dinner table had become a battlefield of unspoken desires and suffocating secrets. Every time Milo’s fork clattered against the fine china, the sound echoed like a gunshot in the tense silence. He could feel Jax’s gaze—heavy, hot, and unrelenting—tracing the line of his throat, the curve of his shoulder, and the way the fitted cream suit hugged his wide hips.Milo felt like he was being devoured without a single touch."To the future," Milo’s father announced, standing up and raising a crystal glass of deep red wine. The light from the chandelier caught the liquid, making it look like pooling blood. "To the union of the Vance and Sinclair-Wellesley legacies. To Jackson and Elena."The words hit Milo like a physical blow to the stomach. He felt the air leave his lungs. He looked at Elena, who sat perfectly still, her face a mask of neutral compliance. Then, he looked at Jax.Jax didn't pick up his glass. His massive hands remained flat on the table, the knuckles white. His eyes nev

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