Page 91 of Caged In

They run shifts, for who’s on what, changing each day. But because he’s new, he winds up with the harder job of loading machines. It’s heavy as fuck when it’s wet. Though he’s not complaining, it’s the only form of exercise he gets now.

“Can we just restart—”

“He told you to fuck off,” a deep voice interrupts their little conversation.

Izz jumps out of his skin. Dropping the bundle in his hands. The pile slopping wetly onto the floor at his feet. Both he and David spin around.Neither had heard him prowl up on them—

Sinn'ous has materialised out of nowhere, his menacing presence sucking the air right out of the room. Izz recognises thedeath glare Sinn'ous is sending David. Last time he saw Sinn'ous look at someone like that, it was Levis . . . and the server had been killed not long after.

Izz steps over to a very pale David. Holding his hand out—yeah, he knows, no handshaking. But this is a unique circumstance.

David looks at Izz, and back at Sinn'ous briefly before accepting Izz’s hand.

“We’re cool. But it doesn’t mean I’m going to be your friend anytime soon.” Izz drops the hand and turns away.

Watching out the corner of his eye as David flattens himself against the machines, to squeeze past Sinn'ous, without so much as touching the serial killer with the ripples in the air from his movements. The entire time Sinn'ous’s narrowed eyes are following him, burning holes in his skull, until he’s retreating to the other side of the laundry room.

“Don’t even think about it,” Izz scolds, scooping the wet mass off the floor, to move it to the dryer. If it’s dirty, it’s dirty, he’s not rewashing it.

“About what?” Sinn'ous’s edgy tone suggesting he knows exactly what Izz’s referring to.

“You know what,” Izz pegs Sinn'ous with a knowingstare. Rolling his eyes when the male smirks, a spark in those predatory eyes at odds with what one should see when murder is on the table.

Izz had shaken David’s hand for the sole purpose of the inmate not becoming the next victim. He doesn’t need more bodies of inmates who are linked to him. Dead because they cross him—and the possessive serial killer obsessed with him kills them.

Supposedly, you don’t actually know.Izz’s little voice denies, refusing to see Sinn'ous in any form of bad lighting.

“What are you even doing here? I thought you didn’t work.”

“Got bored. Thought I’d come help you out,” Sinn'ous leans back against the dryer Izz’s loading. Eyes scanning the room as he studies Izz clicking the controls.

Izz doesn’t buy that excuse for one second. But he doesn’t complain. Work will be a lot more enjoyable with Sinn'ous to keep him company. Help him pass the time. And it will keep the rest of the laundry room occupants from talking shit about him. None will dare with Sinn'ous in the room. In fact, it is exceedingly quiet in here, the only noise is the soft whirring of machines.

~~~

Sinn'ous’s helping out is more along the lines of reclining against the dryer, arms folded as he watches Izz work. Occasionally copping a feel when Izz wanders within arm’s reach—Izz may have deliberately started walking closer to Sinn'ous after that.

He is aware he’s crushing. A love-struck idiot is the term coming to mind when he peeks under his eyelashes at the male who is hovering over him.

He knows he’s in trouble. Developing feelings for someone who is incapable of love is a dangerous game—

Can serial killers love?

29

His whole body is agitated, restless, as Izz leaves the laundry room. Eating all those sugary treats hadn’t been a hot idea. His blood is pumping in his ears and he’s fighting the urge to sprint down the corridors for no reason other than to run.

Looks like I can still get hyped up on sugar.

He jogs back to A-Wing. Stomping his way over the second-floor platform to the cell at the end. Throwing his arms wide, “I’m home,” he exclaims at the empty Satanic cell.

Izz’s inner crazy is reviving. Now that he isn’t constantly glancing over his shoulder and worrying about someone shivving him, he is beginning to come out of his protective shell. To show his true colours . . . his true personality.

“Remind me not to feed you chocolate.”

“You’re just jealous ‘cause I’m having fun, while you brood around all . . . broody,” Izz grins, spinning to face the other as he steps backwards into his second cell. He’s sure he spends more time here than his actual cell. He has basically moved in—

Maybe he can? Sinn'ous doesn’t have a cellmate—

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