The Cage (The Cage #1)(81)
Author: Megan Shepherd

Was it there because it was Cassian’s office?

She tore away from him before he could tighten his grip. “You’re. . . the Warden,” she whispered. “You’ve been giving orders this entire time. Serassi, Tessela, those researchers . . . even Fian. They all work for you.”

He stepped forward, towering over her. “I will explain.”

“No . . . I get it now. You’ve been pulling the strings. You’ve been changing the weather, and speeding up time, and giving us headaches. You’ve been trying to break us—to break me—to see how far we can evolve.”

A wave of disbelief overcame her, and she staggered against the wall. She was back in the deep of the ocean, fighting for breath, body screaming in pain. He might as well have wrapped his own two hands around her neck and strangled her, because that was what his betrayal felt like. Memories of all their times together assailed her head. The first day, where he had rescued her. The day in the bookstore where she’d admitted to herself that she was curious about him. Standing in the snow as he gave her the charm necklace back. And the kiss. The kiss was the worst memory of all, because despite everything, thinking of it still made her falter.

She had never felt so trapped, like the walls were pressing in. His black eyes took her in: the bruises on her arm where she had fallen, the salt water in her hair and damp sweat on her chest. Hope drained from her fingertips.

She didn’t have words. She didn’t even have thoughts, except this one: there had been a mole. All this time, there had been someone spying on them, manipulating them, toying with them. The mole had come not as a fellow human captive, but as a sympathetic guard who they would pour their hearts out to.

Exactly as she had done.

His eyes found hers, and his hand started to flex at his side. Her heart twisted. It was too late for that. He couldn’t pretend like he felt something, when everything had been a lie.

“I will escort her to the medical sector, Fian. Leave us.” Cassian reached out a hand, but Cora shied away like an unbroken horse.

“No.” She took a step backward, never taking her eyes off his, until she was standing next to Fian. “I’ll go with your soldier. You’ve already done your job.” She nearly spit the last word at him. He started to speak, but she turned before he could answer, and let Fian calmly slide the shackles over her wrists.

56

Cora

FIAN TOOK HER TO Serassi, who fixed the bruises on her arm methodically. Serassi didn’t speak. The device in her hand didn’t hum. There was only silence, which made the betrayal all the more deafening. Once Cora was healed, Serassi made her strip to her camisole and panties, and a team of Kindred came in stiff blue uniforms. One gripped her by the neck while another examined her left hand, then the right, inspecting each finger front and back like a horse at auction. A third pressed his fingers into her sides, as though counting each rib, then felt the muscles along each side of her spine. They took an excruciatingly long time prodding at her right ear.

An inspection, just as Fian had done the first day, when she’d thought he was the Warden. Cassian must have set it up that way so that he could rescue Cora, and she would start to trust him.

The inspector and his team left as abruptly as they had come. She dropped to the hard floor, too shaky to stand. She imagined they were determining if she was best suited for the brothels, or the fight clubs, or the cells where children were made to do tricks. Would Cassian be the one to make the call? Maybe he’d take pity on her, after his betrayal, and spare her the Harem. Or maybe he didn’t care at all.

An hour passed, maybe longer. Another Kindred came, with three knots on his uniform, and took her to a room full of plain cells. A true prison this time. When he locked the cell, she expected the hinges to groan, and the lock to thunk, to echo the slamming sounds of her heart. But it closed as smoothly and silently as everything in the Kindred’s world.

Cora caught sight of Lucky and Mali, each locked in individual cells a few doors down, separated from each other by an aisle. Cora tried to yell to them, but her voice only bounced around the perimeter of her cell. Lucky shouted back, but she heard nothing. Their cells must have been soundproofed.

Cora grabbed the bars.

“Are you okay?” she mouthed.

A bandage covered half his face. His other eye had a deep circle under it, but he nodded. In the cell beside him, Mali merely pressed her lips together in an expression Cora couldn’t quite read, but it looked grim.

Cora let go of the bars and paced her cell, still feeling the crushing weight of Cassian’s betrayal. A worry struck her, and she jerked up her head. Had Mali known all along that Cassian was the Warden? But one more glance in Mali’s direction showed sunken, hollow eyes and a hardened mouth—Mali was just as disappointed as Cora was. Cassian had been Mali’s friend too.

For hours, Cora paced in the cell. Serassi had given her new clothes to wear. Plain black robes with a single knot at the shoulder, which Cora could only assume was a sign of their status now, the lowest of the low. Lucky and Mali wore the same robe. The constellation markings on their necks were gone, nothing to identify them as a gender or even a number.

It was clear the Kindred weren’t returning them to the cage. So what would happen to them? And what had happened to Nok and Rolf? There were no toilets, no food, which meant the Kindred couldn’t be planning to keep them there for long. Words that Mali and Cassian had both hinted at scrolled through her mind: Drugged girls. Dead girls. Private owners. Menageries.

The door at the end of the room opened. Cassian entered.

Cora looked away. She didn’t want to see those lips she had kissed. Those eyes that had cleared like storm clouds. His approaching footsteps were heavy and slow. From the corner of her eye, she saw his fingers curl around the bars of her cell. She could almost convince herself that he was feeling something. Regret, maybe. But she snatched back those traitorous thoughts. Any true emotion he had shown her had been a trick.

“Cora.”

His voice was so quiet that, huddled in the farthest part of the cell, she could almost pretend he hadn’t spoken.

“I brought you something.” He slid an object through the bars, and her heart clenched. The little red radio with dials like a smiling face. Nok’s radio. Did this mean that Nok didn’t need it anymore—that they’d transferred her somewhere? And what about Rolf? She glanced at Lucky and Mali, who watched them but couldn’t hear past their own cells. A part of Cora wanted to lunge for this small comfort he was offering—voices on the airwaves, a link to home—but she didn’t want anything from him. She hugged her legs closer.