Page 42 of Blood Caged

Something’s going on.

I can’t let my guard down. I won’t.

Those bloodsuckers are not to be trusted. Ever.

But as I sink onto the edge of the bed, feeling its give beneath me, I can’t help the small sigh that escapes my lips.

“I’ll leave you now,” the guard says, still politely. “Good day, Miss.”

Good day? Hah!

But I’m too exhausted to respond. Instead, I sink onto my side and curl up on the soft mattress, pulling the comforter over me.

I’m asleep almost immediately.

A sharp rap on the door jolts me from my deep slumber. I blink, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar comfort surrounding me.

Right. The new cell. The cushy bed that feels like a trap.

“Miss Blackwood?” a man’s voice, crisp and professional, calls from beyond the door. “May I come in?”

May I come in?

What if I said no? Right. When did that ever make a difference?

I sit up, smoothing my hair and steeling myself. “Yes,” I call back, my voice raspier than I’d like.

The door opens, revealing a guard I haven’t seen before. He’s tall, with close-cropped dark hair and an expression of polite detachment. Nothing like Patty’s sneering contempt. He’s human, too, so I’m guessing that it’s daytime.

“Where’s Patty?” I ask before I can stop myself. Part of me hates giving them the satisfaction of asking questions, but curiosity wins out.

The new guard’s face remains impassive, but something flickers in his eyes. From where I’m sitting, it looks a lot like fear.

“I’m afraid I can’t discuss other personnel,” he says smoothly. “But I can assure you that Patty won’t be interacting with you again. Her position has been…terminated.”

His words carry an air of finality, and I give an involuntary shudder. What happened to her? As much as I despised the woman, I hope she’s okay. She may have been a bitch, but I wouldn’t wish vampire justice upon anyone.

“I’m here to offer you some time outside your cell,” the guard continues. “If you’re feeling up to it after your recent…ordeal.”

I study him, searching for any hint of deception or cruelty. His attitude is so different from what I’ve come to expect. No sneers, no rough handling. Just calm professionalism.

The thought of leaving this cage is tempting, even if it’s just for a little while. But suspicion gnaws at me.

What’s the catch?

“And if I say I don’t want to?” I challenge, lifting my chin.

“Then you’re welcome to remain here,” he replies evenly. “The choice is yours.”

I weigh my options. More hours of isolation in this deceptively comfortable room, or a chance to see beyond these four walls, maybe gather more information about my surroundings.

“I’ll go,” I decide, standing up. “Lead the way.”

I follow the guard through the winding corridors of the facility, my mind racing with questions and possibilities. Every turn, every door we pass, I commit to memory. You never know what might be useful later.

Suddenly, we’re approaching a set of heavy double doors. My heart rate picks up. What lies beyond? Another lab? Some new form of torture?

This is it. The moment I learn it’s all just some twisted trick.

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