Page 73 of Caged

I attempt to shake him free, but he has a grip of iron.

“The Gryn is her mate,” the leading female Jiaka tells wolfie.

“That’s what she says. We’ll see.” He glares at me. “Anyone who comes looking for the resistance is suspect, and she’ll be subject to the test, like everyone else.”

It’s my turn to growl under my breath. All the time Sylas is getting further and further from me, and I’ve got to convince wolf-features and his friends I’m the real deal.

It’s the last thing I want, not here, not anywhere. And I wish I could run again. I wish I’d never left the ground transport. Every single decision I’ve made, save going with my big bad gladiator, has resulted in disaster, from my abduction to being here, in the grip of an alien wolf who doesn’t believe me and wants to subject me to some sort of “test.”

Wolfie pulls on my shoulder with a snarl.

“And if she doesn’t subject to the test, then she will be disposed of.”

All I can think of is Sylas and his face gazing on mine. I have failed him, and by now he probably thinks I’ve run away and left him.

My stomach squirms, as if to remind me of what is growing inside me.

This is a disaster. A complete disaster and I don’t know how I can ever make it right.

SYLAS

Ipace. Back and forth along the bars, bars which this time have enough energy to throw me back against the rough stone at the rear of the cage. I’ve stopped trying to get out. Instead I pace.

Without my Alex, my skin itches, and my feathers feel like they’re filled with sand while I’m unable to rouse to shake it out. The mere thought of her being at the mercy of the Zavaro causes a rage I don’t think will ever dissipate.

What’s worse is all the memories I thought I had, they’re still mist, hovering on the very edge of my brain, taunting me with what I should know, but I can’t quite grasp.

“And here we are again, gladiator.” Maxym looms up to the bars, stopping short and wrinkling his nose. “What have you done this time to warrant the lux treatment?”

Behind him, Blayn stands. He looks terrible, his tattoos standing out starkly on his skin, eyes dull.

“What’s wrong with Blayn?”

“The procurator was not happy with his performance recently. He’s been made to parade daily,” Maxym says, looking over the bars.

“Vrex,” I swear with an added growl.

There is nothing Blayn hates more than being paraded, poked and prodded by all and sundry. Made to perform in a cage for entertainment.

“Vrex indeed.” Maxym checks over his shoulder. “You’ll be okay though, won’t you Blayn?”

Blayn lifts a lip and snarls.

“He’ll be fine.” Rych steps out of the shadows too. “I’m taking his place as far as I can.” He lifts his hand to touch Blayn who flinches violently as Rych backs off.

“The fact remains, what are you doing back here, Sylas?” Maxym asks. “You were supposed to be far, far away with your mate.”

I risk everything to fire my arm through the bars and grip him by the throat.

“Do you remember anything from before you came here?” I demand. “Anything?”

“No, I don’t.” Maxym stands firm, not even attempting to pull free. “Neither do you, neither do any of us,” he replies evenly.

Rych nods his head, and Blayn shivers, his feathers rattling like knives.

Every single Gryn sent here to fight has their own special attributes. My healing and speed, Blayn’s stamina, Maxym has a hide almost as tough as mine and the ability to avoid things he can’t see, Rych with his easygoing nature, charming and manipulating, even Klynn has a speed to match mine and who knows what else, given he’s a secretive vrexer at the best of times.

“We are not what they tell us we are,” I growl. “Our memories…they were stolen from us. I was not from a farm, I was free.”

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