Page 11 of Freed Wolfsbane

“Move,” the darker-haired guard, who must’ve pushed me, growls. I’m starting to think that’s the only word he knows.

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I do as he says and hurry to close the gap behind the person in front of me while still being mindful of Annabel clutching my hand. The line must’ve moved as I was gawking at all the people.

When I reach the shiny metal countertop at the beginning of the serving station, I grab a tray for both Annabel and me. “You want me to hold on to your tray for you? Or do you want it?” I ask since she can only just peek her head up to see the food behind the glass.

She lets go of my hand to grasp my baggy pants. “Can you please hold it for me?”

Her politeness would be adorable in any other circumstance. Here, though, I wonder what the Knights did to her that made her so courteous. Forcing a smile, I give her an enthusiastic nod. “Of course. Just let me know what you want me to grab for you.”

The buffet is surprisingly well stocked. There are eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, pancakes, an assortment of pastries, and a variety of drinks. I thought the Knights would be feeding us mysterious slop three times a day, not normal food, and I’m instantly suspicious of it.

Why do they want us to eat so badly that they give us appetizing food? Are they drugging it? If that’s the case, I’d rather just starve. Besides, Patrick often wouldn’t let me eat enough, so I’m used to being hungry.

Anson notices me skeptically staring at the food options. “They need us to eat to be strong enough for the experiments,” he whispers in my ear.

That explains it. Feeding us enough ensures we can withstand more injuries, so the Knights don’t have to be careful with us during experiments.

Annabel silently points out the scrambled eggs, sausage, pancake, and cinnamon roll. “You can only have one,” the woman grumbles when I ask for both of the sweets. Annabel looks heartbroken and reluctantly chooses the pancake. When I grab my food, I make sure to get a cinnamon roll.

“Do you know where we’re supposed to sit?” I ask Annabel. She points to one of the only open tables available. It’s on the far side of the room. Nodding, I make my way across the space, balancing the two trays while making sure I don’t lose her.

As I walk through the crowded cafeteria, I see more empty eyes and hollow faces than I want to. Despite the buzz of conversation, the lunchroom oozes with misery and hopelessness, like most of the supernaturals here have already given up.

I can’t blame them, honestly. Being captured by the Knights is practically a death sentence. I can’t recall a single instance of someone coming home after being taken by the Knights, which so doesn’t bode well for me.

“We have to sit with our corridor group,” Anson explains as we walk, nodding to the table filled with the same kids from our hallway.

When we reach our table, I realize there’s barely enough space for Anson and me to sit, much less Annabel, too. I notice that other little ones are sitting on the older kids’ laps to make more space at the cramped table.

Would it kill the Knights to provide enough seating?

Apparently.

Sighing, I set the two trays on the table and squat down so I’m level with Annabel. “You wanna sit on my lap? If you’re uncomfortable with that, I can just stand while you sit.”

Anson huffs behind me. “You two can sit. I’ll stand.” I turn, raising my eyebrows at him. He cocks one back at me, daring me to argue with him. The move is so similar to something that Malachi would do. My heart flips painfully in my chest at the reminder of one of my mates. I miss them so damn much, and it’s only been a day or two.

“I don’t mind,” her sweet voice chimes in quietly. “I used to sit with Sage for meals.”

Offering Annabel a half smile, I sit down in front of our trays. She clambers up onto my lap, and Anson squeezes into the minuscule remaining space without a complaint. “Which one is Sage?” I ask as I pull her food closer so she can reach it. I also place my cinnamon roll onto her tray.

She twists around to beam at me for the small gift before the joy drains out of her face as she processes my question. “Sage isn’t here anymore.”

Jesus Christ.

I’m apparently awful at talking to kids because I can’t seem to say anything right to the little girl.

Banding my arm around her middle, I hug Annabel to me much like I used to do when Ava was small. I can’t make the situation any less shitty or bring back her friend, but I offer what little comfort I can.

The two of us tuck into our food without another word. I scarf down the heaping portions of eggs, sausage, bacon, and ham the lady piled on my tray. I don’t know why she gave me so much food, but I’m here for it. My stomach feels like it’s trying to eat itself with how hungry I am.

While Annabel doesn’t eat nearly as much as I do, she makes sure to polish off the syrupy pancake and the frosting-covered cinnamon roll. I snort at how enthusiastic she is about the sweets. A girl after my own heart.

Conversations resume around the table, the kids keeping it to light topics. Glancing around, I’m startled not to see another adult at our table aside from Anson and me. Looking around the room, I see about an equal percentage of adults to kids, so our section must be weird.

When I’m almost done eating, I hear a commotion behind me. Keeping an arm around Annabel, I turn in my seat to see a contingent of new guards marching their way to our table. I curl my body around Annabel, like that can keep the goons from seeing her.

As they come to a stop in front of our table, one of them calls, “Subject five hundred and eighty-two is required for an experiment immediately.”

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