Page 12 of Caged

His face sours. “We’ve spent so much time concentrating on staying alive, we’ve failed to live. If you have found your mate, then it is time we did what we should have done a nova-year ago.”

“There will be no uprising. Not this time, Maxym.” I walk to the back of the cage, away from him. “I’m done.”

He releases his grip on the bars, head turning in the direction of the main door, the lock scraping back.

“You are never done, Sylas of the Gryn. I know you. There is unfinished business here,” he adds, disappearing back into the shadows.

His words shouldn’t resonate, but they do. All the time I was on the farm, put through the harshest of training regimens, toldwe were going to be sold as a private warrior clan to the highest bidder, any dissent punished severely, it did nothing to dim my spirit.

Which is when I made the mistake of thinking about rebellion.

It’s not a mistake I will ever make again.

“Gryn.” The guards approach the cage. “On your knees until you are secured. The procurator wishes to see you.”

ALEX

Idon’t know what Ixor is planning, but he’s locked himself into a bedroom, and I can hear him talking non-stop.

Of course, he doesn’t tell me anything about who employs him, or his marks, until it’s strictly necessary. But I pick up things, piece them together. It’s the only way I’m going to stay alive when his reckoning finally comes.

I hope.

Ixor thinks he’s been sneaky about this particular mark, but I’ve heard enough. It’s a politician based on Trefa who is very well-guarded, hence the reason Ixor has been brought in. He’s spending time integrating into Tatatunga (visiting pleasure houses) in order not to arouse suspicion, which is the reason we’ve been here so bloody long.

The robot cleaner buzzes out from its little hidey hole.

“What’s going on?” it chirps.

I really should not have messed with its programming.

“Ixor’s planning something, but I can’t hear,” I grumble, going into the food prep area and poking around to see if there’s anything I can eat which Ixor won’t notice.

“I can hear,” the cleaner says.

“Good for you.” I sigh.

There’s a crackle and Ixor’s voice comes out of the flipping vacuum…

”So, if I send her back to the dome, what then?”he asks.

“If she can assist in you gaining entry, with a gladiator as back up, you should be able to reach the gantry levels. I can arrange for him to be at the games,”the unknown voice, whiny and metallic, says.

There’s a rasping sound, which is probably Ixor scratching his behind, and I grimace.

“The gladiators are guarded. How can I be sure she’ll be able to get his attention?’ Ixor says.

My guts spin as if the world is tipping on its axis.

“Have you ever seen a Gryn with a mate? Because I have. He’ll do anything for her, guards or no guards. You’ve struck lucky, Ixor, if you believe she is his mate.”

“Did you see the odds on Sylas?”Ixor laughs harshly.“Something had an effect on him and it wasn’t a chemical.”

He’s going to use me, use Sylas, for his deadly profession. I look around wildly for a weapon, for anything I could use.

“Turn it off, I’ve heard enough,” I hiss at the cleaner.

If a robot could shrug, I think this one would have. “Okay,” it trills. “No more Ixor.”

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