Page 88 of Caged

“I thought these boxes were supposed to be secure.” I laugh dryly.

“From the dome arena, yes. From here, not so much,” Sylas replies.

Once he’s squeezed his wings through the rarified atmosphere, all new carpet smell pushes its way into my nostrils, chasing out the scent of pulsar ions. The passage we’re in is soft underfoot, lit with expensive subtle lighting, and oozes credits.

These are most definitely not the cheap seats. If I needed a reminder the dome is a force to be reckoned with, I have it now.

“Which way?” I ask Sylas.

“I want you to stay here. Because of the guards. We’re too high up, so I can’t get you to the lower boxes where you’ll be protected,” he says.

“We don’t have time to argue, Sylas. I’m not hanging about in a corridor waiting for the inevitable. I’m going to have to come with you.”

Sylas dips his head with a growl as his chin rests on his chest. In the expensive light, he looks monstrous, vast wings, scarred body, highlighted across all of his muscles. Claws like scimitars extended on one hand and the other wrapped around a huge sword which sheens with innards.

“I don’t like it, but I agree.” He reaches out his free hand and takes mine. “Stay behind me at all times, and don’t ever hesitate to shoot, even if I’m in the way. I’ll heal.”

“You want me to shoot at you?” I say with a grin.

My smile is returned five-fold, with fangs.

“Not necessarily at me, little feather.” He chuckles, and the sound fills my heart with joy. “If you can take out anyone, and I’m in the way, do it.”

This is my Sylas. My gladiator. My Gryn. He is ready for this fight.

And so am I.

SYLAS

Ido not want to be taking Alex anywhere near Medius, but it seems fate, on this occasion, is conspiring against us.

There is no alternative, I must go into battle with my fierce little feather, who is, at least, both armed and capable of using the weapons in her charge.

“How far?” Alex asks as we pad down the long, curved passage.

The roar of the crowd is much reduced here, given the sound proofing and forcefields in place in this area.

“The box Medius is using is one given to grace and favor guests,” I explain. “Which is hardly a surprise, given Medius is the one who sold me to the dome in the first place,” I add with a growl. “It is on the next level, and we need to find a…”

I stop at the service panel and wrench it free.

“Up there?” Alex asks, peering inside.

“Up there.” I shove myself inside, clamping my wings to my body, and wriggle my way up, sword first. At the top, I gently push at the panel to check the situation outside.

The identical passage to the one we left is quiet and empty. Medius doesn’t expect me to come for him after all.

Big mistake.

I heave myself out of the conduit and Alex pops out behind me. For a moment, I’m transfixed. Her dress flows around her like water, and she has a slight smudge on one cheek, which I brush away.

This could be it, the last time I see her, and I want her face to be the last thing on my mind.

“Don’t.” She wraps her tiny hand around my clawed one, holding it tight against her cheek. “I know what you’re thinking, and neither of us is leaving here without the other today.”

“No one is taking you from me, little feather.” I feel all the desire, the joy, the need for her rising within me. “You are mine.”

“That might not be entirely true, Sylas.” Medius’s voice sears through the air. “Given you belong to me, and therefore what’s yours is mine.”

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