The Cage (The Cage #1)(78)
Author: Megan Shepherd

She broke down into sobs. She stopped struggling and curled into herself instead, trying to hug her knees close. He let go of her hesitantly, ready to tackle her again if she tried to run, but she only sobbed harder, rocking back and forth like she had the first day. The pink streak in her hair was caught in her eyelashes, damp with her tears. She suddenly shoved it back angrily.

“I do love you, you idiot! Of course I do!”

His anger melted away with hers. He watched her rocking and crying, and started to touch her knee but stopped his hand. He loved her, but could he trust her?

“Then why did you cheat on me? Lucky was my friend. And Leon’s a complete ass.”

“It wasn’t about them. It wasn’t about sex at all. It was about creating a stable world for our baby. Not just getting the boys loyal to us, but Mali and Cora too. The boys were just easier to work with, because boys only want one thing. My talent manager in London, Delphine . . . I spent years watching how she made men fall in love with her. She built an empire out of manipulating men. Their money. Their connections. The stability she got from that. I learned from her, even if I didn’t want to. I was afraid you and I wouldn’t be enough. Not so far from home. Not in a place where anything could happen. I needed all of us together on this—and I tried to do it the only way I know how.”

Rolf stared at her. Part of him still wanted to hurt her back, hurl insults just like she had. Call her a cheater. Call her manipulative. But then he surprised even himself.

He started laughing.

It was filled with pain and bitterness. He doubled over, supporting himself in the grass, his stomach cramped with angry laughter mixed with tears. It wasn’t until he had wrung himself out like a sponge that she pushed the pink streak out of her face.

“What’s so funny, then?” she asked sharply.

“You. And me. This place. We’ve both become the one thing that tormented us most back on Earth. I became Karl Crenshaw, my old bully, and you became Delphine. Cora was right about this place. It isn’t paradise. And the Kindred . . .” His fingers curled in the hard earth. “Maybe they aren’t what we thought they were.” His fingers started twitching, tap tap tap, all his old fears and old bad habits coming back in full force. He pushed at the bridge of his nose where his glasses used to rest.

Some genius.

“I should have seen it. I’m an idiot—”

Nok grabbed his hand, holding his fingers still. “No. Don’t ever say that. You’re brilliant and that’s why I love you. But you’re not perfect, and neither am I. It doesn’t matter.” Her jaw was set with determination.

The feeling came back into Rolf’s arms. He dared to look at her and saw sincerity in the lines of her face. He pulled her into his arms, breathing in the scent of her smooth hair, feeling her heartbeat against his. His skin tingled like it was on fire. It wasn’t until the hair started rising on his arms that he realized pressure was building.

Nok went rigid in his arms. “Behind you,” she whispered in a frightened voice.

He whirled, holding Nok tightly, expecting to see the Caretaker. Cora had said he would help the escape; maybe he’d come to make sure Nok and Rolf posed no further threat to her.

But the Kindred that materialized wasn’t the Caretaker. It was a woman, and as her body took shape, he recognized the painfully tight bun, the high cheekbones.

The medical officer. Serassi.

His head spun to Nok, but she shook her head emphatically. “I didn’t summon her. I promise. You’ve been with me the entire time.”

“But if you didn’t, why is she here? The Caretaker was supposed to—”

His words were cut off as Serassi approached. Behind her, another figure began to materialize. Tessala, the substitute Caretaker. Yet another figure materialized behind her. A male Kindred who Rolf had never seen, big as the Caretaker, with a long row of knots down the side of his uniform and a permanent scowl that formed heavy wrinkles between his eyes. Two more Kindred men materialized behind him.

Rolf pulled Nok closer as the team of Kindred approached.

“Rolf . . .” There was fear in her voice. He held her tightly. He would never let them be separated.

“This enclosure is being temporarily shut down,” Serassi said in her mechanical voice. “This cohort has failed. I have instructions to take you to a holding cell in the medical chambers until the Warden determines what is to be done with you.”

“The Warden?” Rolf clutched Nok tighter. Cora had told them about the Warden, the ruthless Kindred who had tried to strangle her their very first day, whose forehead was knotted with angry wrinkles.

Rolf’s eyes went to the Kindred man with the hardened face. The way he looked at them so intently formed a deep vertical wrinkle between his eyes. Wasn’t that the man Cora had described? Could there be more than one Kindred with the same description? Usually Rolf was good at thinking things through, but none of this made any sense. “Where’s the Caretaker? Where’s Cassian? We need to see him, right now.”

The Kindred all stopped. Serassi cocked her head, as though for once her impassive mask might drop to reveal some true emotion; but then she straightened, and the mask instantly returned. Behind her, one of the Kindred took out an apparatus that looked like a weapon.

“Cassian is the one who gave the order for us to come. He notified us of your exact position.” Serassi removed two sets of shackles from her pocket. “Cassian is the Warden.”

Nok let out a small cry, and Rolf held her tighter. His head ached, and so did his heart. He cast a look in the direction of the ocean, where the others had disappeared, and wondered if they knew they were walking directly into a trap.

54

Cora

THE CHAMBER WHERE CORA had awakened was filled with machinery that hummed a hundred times louder than the black windows. Cassian had called it an equipment chamber, but she didn’t see any vents or buttons or moving parts, only cubes upon cubes, the ones Rolf had said were amplifiers, arranged in what looked like a haphazard order—but nothing about the Kindred was haphazard.

Lying on her back, she could see the ocean stretched out overhead, a beautiful, dancing dome of water. It reminded her of an aquarium her father had taken her to, where sharks swam overhead. Only there was no glass now. If she had been tall enough, she could have touched water, come away with the smell of salt. Once or twice she though she saw a star on the other side.

We made it.

She was alive—and so were Lucky and Mali, collapsed on either side of her, stunned but breathing steadily.