Page 101 of Caged In

Stay calm, you’re panicking over nothing. You don’t know if Sin knows anything.

Izz takes a deep breath and jumps off the cliff, “Vince offered himself in exchange for me asking you a favour.”

Izz’s anxiety spikes when Sin doesn’t react to the news. Does it mean he already knows? Or he doesn’t care?

The overwhelming need to fill the silence has Izz opening his mouth to explain further, “he has an inmate who he owes money to . . . he wanted you to . . . k-kill them. Asked me to ask you . . .”

Izz fiddles with the prison sheets under him. Twisting the material between his fingers, he’s too nervous to continue holding Sin’s gaze. Using the lapse in conversation to study the surprisingly clean floor—considering no one vacuums it.

“What did you say.” Sin’s voice is cold. Devoid of any emotion.

Izz’s sure Sin heard him correctly and doesn’t actually want him to repeat it. Is more astonished someone would brazenly ask this of Izz. He assumes. He can’t read anything from Sin’s voice and he can’t bring himself to look at Sin’s face.

“I didn’t really answer him. I wasn’t expecting to be asked such a thing. It caught me off guard.” Not like he isn’t caught off guard all the time. When is he ever ready for the crazy things this Hell-hole throws at him.

“He touched you,” Sin’s voice is dark, riddled with dangerous intent. Sucking the air right out of the cramped cell.

Izz’s terrible at reading people, and even he can tell Sin is fuming. Pissed enough to indicate he probably hadn’t known about this incident until five seconds ago.

Might have been better to keep quiet and not divulge this titbit of information.

“No—Well. Yes. But it wasn’t—”

Sin strides off. Disappearing out of sight down the second-floor platform. Izz can hear his heavy footfalls clunking on the bare metal platform.

“Wait,” Izz bellows after Sin, “where are you going?” He jumps up to rush after him—

Only for his feet to tangle in the sheets, taking him down to the cell’s hard floor. His knees erupting in a pained protest to the harsh landing. He’s going to have bruises over the entire expanse of his knees. Zidie will find a million reasons to tease him for it.

Using his hands as leverage he kicks his legs around. Little noises of frustration escaping his throat as he tries to fight free of the twisted sheets.

How did my legs get so tangled?

With a final shake, he breaks free. Scrambling up to chase after Sin—

There is no one on the second-floor platform. Clapping his hands on the railing, he leans over the side, checking out the level below. He can’t see Sin down there either. No inmates with red and black hair, a sea of colours, but not the one he is looking for.

Sin is gone.

This is bad. This is really, really bad.

Stumbling down the stairs, Izz runs through the grey sea—the other inmates moving out of his way. With no destination in mind, he sprints down the first corridor he reaches. He has to find Sin before something terrible happens. His stomach is knotting with dread the longer he runs with no sign of Sin.

Throwing his body around another bend in another corridor, he spots Zidie further down the other end. A relief.

Izz cups his hands around his mouth to help his words travel—not that the echoing empty corridor needs the extra support. Bellowing to Zid, “have you seen Sin—Sinn'ous?”

Zidie indicates the corridor off to the side. “C-Wing. He looked pissed. What’s going on?”

Izz doesn’t answer. He sprints down the corridor Zidie pointed towards. Hoping it leads straight through to C-Wing. He doesn’t know his way around well enough to find C-Wing in time if he becomes lost. There isn’t time to be thrown off course. And in his panicked state he is very likely to run aimlessly in circles.

If he doesn’t make it in time, Vince will die. He doesn’t want anyone else to join the list of inmates to die because of him. To die because Sin killed them in his possessive territorial claim on Izz.

“My Izz isn’t interested in your scams, little con artist,” Izz can hear Sin’s growling voice down the corridor.

Izz’s so close, relief flooding him, followed by a constricting sense of doom.

I’m nearly there. Sin has to be around this next bend.

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