Page 12 of Caged Kitten

So, even if I didn’t think this mewling witch deserved to be the fated mate of one of the most decent shifters I knew, the only one who didn’t play the political games, Elijah believed it. He had connected with her in an instant—and it was biological, something he couldn’t help, couldn’t avoid even if he tried. So. Fine. If fate had selected her for him, for my best friend, my shifter brother, then perhaps I owed it to him to make her shut up.

Er. I mean. Calm her down.

And then maybe, just maybe, I could get an hour or two of sleep tonight to replenish my wasting body.

Shrouded in darkness and speckles of unfettered starlight, I finally—begrudgingly—rolled off my bed. The springs creaked and groaned, and my bare feet touched down on cool stone as soon as I was upright.

I waited a moment, listening, not needing to strain—

Still crying.

Damn it.

Scratching at the back of my neck, I stood, then dropped to my knees and crawled to the little mousehole that stretched between my cell and hers. The place was full of cracks and holes, vermin alive and well—just another means to torture innocent supers, all so the warden could show off the first supernatural prison in the world.

Not that we needed one, but obviously someone was in the mood to make money. Prick.

Humans had been doing it for decades—for-profit prisons—so why not us? Why not punish a community that already had to hide in the shadows, a community full of its own regimented laws, a community at war with itself half the time anyway?

No one had asked for this.

And surely no one but those lining their pockets wanted this.

“Hey?” I called through the little hole, settling on my side and peering through the black, my night vision as spectacular as my hearing. Not that there was much of a view: just more dusty brownish-grey stonework, then what appeared to be one of the metal legs of her bed shoved up against the far wall.

At the sound of my voice, the witch fell silent save for a little sniffle, and I raised my eyebrows, waiting for a response.

Nothing.

Fair enough.

I didn’t really talk to anyone but Elijah and I’d been here six months. But I couldn’t just leave it at that; scaring her wasn’t the goal, and I most certainly was not like the majority of the actual criminals in here.

“Katja, right?”

“I-I’m sorry,” she murmured, voice carrying through even though she was positioned somewhere out of sight, somewhere deeper in her cell. Probably next to the window, the small taste of freedom and normalcy this place allowed any of us. “Could you hear me?”

“Well, yes.” Obviously. She wasn’t exactly being quiet over there. Unfortunately, my sardonic tone set off another bout of crying, and I shook my head, rolled my eyes, and flopped onto my back. Elijah was accustomed to my snark, my bouts of melancholy, my dry wit, but it could be a touch off-putting to strangers.

“It’s fine,” I remarked, threading my hands together on top of my chest. “Everyone cries the first night. I mean, the innocent ones, anyway.” Really, the thought of Deimos or Constance wailing inside their cells was laughable. “The other bastards probably expected to be in something like this at some point.”

Bare feet tiptoed across the stone tiles, and I listened to her hands grazing the wall between us, followed by shuffling along the base until she stumbled onto the little mouse highway. I glanced to the side, the nothingness on the other end suddenly filled with a sapphire-blue eye searching me out.

“Hello,” I whispered when our gazes met fleetingly, hers disappearing just as fast as it appeared.

“Hi,” she offered in return. After a little more scuffling on her end, all I saw was that brilliant red hair in front of the hole, suggesting she had adopted a similar position on the floor. Katja cleared her throat, her voice thick and hoarse as she said, “Everyone says they’re innocent though.”

“Again, yes.” I pressed my lips together and swallowed the sarcasm down. “But you can hardly believe them, can you? They’re all practiced liars, even the guards. And watch yourself with Deimos.”

Elijah had gone way too far with the demon earlier today, catching his eye with that display, encouraging the little shit to take a special interest in him and Katja. From here on out, Deimos and his cronies would be paying extra-close attention to the pair whenever they interacted, and I dreaded having to involve myself in another tedious spat.

Especiallyover a woman.

How sinfully cliché.

Mind you—it wasn’t really about Katja. Deimos had sensed Elijah’s alpha qualities from the beginning, and that made the demon want to fuck with him. Simple, typical, stupid supernatural dynamics—all alive and well in Xargi Penitentiary.

She let out a watery laugh. “Yeah, like I’d cozy up to a demon. I’m not that desperate.”

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