Page 102 of Caged Kitten

“You two all right?” the fae demanded, and the shock on Rafe’s face echoed my own. Straight to the point, direct—no dillydallying around. How very unlike Fintan. Strange to not realize how much a person had grown until it clocked you upside the head.

“Fine,” I said, motioning halfheartedly to Rafe’s shoulder—because that about covered the extent of our injuries. “You?”

Fintan pointed to his nose, scowling. “Did this to myself, apparently… You know, after those fucks gassed us. Woke up in the infirmary to some little chit bandaging me up when she could have just magicked the bone or whatever back to normal, but never mind. Otherwise, yeah, not a hair out of place.”

And there he was—the fae who never shut the fuck up.

Still waiting on our witch, we remained in the common area for another hour. Avery and Blake never made an appearance either, but Deimos didn’t come looking for his cronies. In fact, no one left their cells, the block quiet, somber, lacking the usual chatter and laughter from the demon’s gang, lacking our hushed conversations at one of the side tables. No cards. No games. No books.

No Katja.

My heart soared when the locks finally did clink open again, but it was only Cooper and two other guards I didn’t recognize. Williams had taken a shot to the shoulder and leg courtesy of my mate, who was beyond sexy when she handled a gun; I’d wanted to slam her into the wall and fuck her raw at the sight of her brandishing a weapon, but then everything had gone to hell so fast it made my head spin.

“Lights-out, inmates,” Cooper barked, directing us three toward our cells with a flourish of his wand. “We’re on lockdown until tomorrow evening while we fix this fucking mess.”

None of us moved. We stood there, arms crossed, a united front of three on three—at a huge disadvantage, collars firmly intact, but willing to go down swinging.

“What about Katja?” Rafe hissed, glancing at Fintan and me on either side of him. “Where—”

“Now, inmates,” Cooper bellowed. Sparks snapped and fizzled from the end of his wand, and he just missed Fintan’s ear with a jet of neon blue—on purpose, hopefully, because fuck me no one’s aim could be that bad at this distance. The fae didn’t even flinch, but his lip curled.

“She gave in,” he said suddenly, just as we three disbanded. Rafe and I stilled, his words panging between us, and Fintan’s eyes sparked with bloodlust once more. “She gave in to Guthrie… It’s why no one’s beaten us or tossed us in solitary. Why this fuck didn’t hit me.”

“I just figured he was a terrible shot,” Rafe mused, glowering at the trio of guards watching us, their wands aimed at our chests.

“He’s right,” I croaked. So painfully right—that explained everything. Her continued absence. Our unusual welfare. Why Deimos and the others had taken a beating and we were standing here smelling like roses.

She couldn’t distance herself from us in here.

But she could do it outside of Xargi.

In Guthrie’s clutches, just like that fucking bastard wanted.

“She made a deal,” Fintan said hoarsely, staring right through the guards, seeming whole galaxies away as he added, “for us.”

“No one’s going to ask you again, shit for brains,” one of the unfamiliar guards barked, and right on cue, the three moved in to manually separate us. One stabbed his wand into Rafe’s neck, the fizzing electrical buzz reminiscent of a taser. Another went for Fintan, shoving his chest, the jerk of his head making him wince through a noticeably broken nose. When Cooper came for me, I stood strong, immoveable, my inner dragon tearing me apart from the inside, furious and heartbroken and screaming for his mate.

Our mate.

Our witch.

Our girl.

Gone.

No.

As Fintan and Rafe dragged their feet toward their cells, I imploded. Clocked Cooper right in the face, his cheekbone shattering under my fist. He went down hard, unconscious, and the other two warlocks pounced as an alarm ripped through the block. I fought with everything I had, snarling and shouting, furious and lost, my mate slipping away from me by the second.

More guards poured into Cellblock C, and the fact that none of them stunned me—only dogpiled on top of me and steamrolled me toward my cell—confirmed everything.

She had sold herself for us.

Sold herself so that we could carry on, incarcerated but safe from a madman.

And I’d never forgive myself for putting her in that situation—for not finding a way to save her sooner.

Don’t deserve her. Don’t deserve the gift fate gave you.

By the time twelve guards wrestled me into my cell—shocking me in the ribs and the neck with their wands, gut-punching me, boxing me in the kidneys, knocking my knees out from under me again and again, one arm snapped around my neck in a chokehold—every breath plumed black. Smoke seethed from my nostrils. Fire scorched up my throat. I saw through my inner dragon’s eyes, the collar’s control over us precarious but there.

I eventually landed on my hands and knees, coughing up a mouthful of hot blood as the guards bolted. Slammed my cell door. Locked it tight. Caged the beast.

Alone and broken, I raged for her, bellowed something guttural and primal at the top of my lungs, some ancient call forcing all Xargi to tremble before me. Dust sprinkled down on me, and the lightbulb over my quivering cot swung like a violent pendulum. The door shuddered and the window rattled.

But the walls held.

In the end, my mate didn’t answer my cry.

And I feared she never would.

---