Page 90 of Caged

Alex grips at me. “Ixor.” She shudders.

“Is this the creature who enslaved you?” I ask her quietly.

She nods.

I look at the Habosu. “Then he will die.”

I move my glare from the Habosu to the procurator. “The more we can expose this place for what it is, the less palatable it will be for those seeking to profit from it.”

“They don’t care.” Alex’s fingers are shaking as they curl into my feathers. “They’ll do it regardless.”

“Not if those with the power understand they are just as much at risk as those they turn a blind eye to,” I say.

The procurator shifts uncomfortably, even if Medius seems uninterested.

“Tatatunga and Trefa are not what you think they are. They will not shield you. Not from those who are looking for you.” He says.

Medius swivels to face me.

“Sadly, your memory hasreturned in full, Gryn. That’s too bad.” He sighs. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but I have more Gryn under my control, and unless you turn over your mate and young to me, I will have them executed.”

ALEX

Sylas fixes his gaze on Medius. The games play out behind the thick soundproof glass, a dance of death in which there are no winners.

“I’ll go with him,” I say quietly. “I won’t be responsible for any more carnage.”

“No,” Sylas says.

I run my hand down his wing. He doesn’t move.

“Yes, it’s the only way. It’s the only way we can be sure no one else dies. It’s the only way I can live with a clear conscience.”

“No,” he growls again.

I stroke my hand down the side of his head, and he leans into me, like he always does. I shake my head and brush a kiss across his lips. His hands lift, touching my cheek and pulling away only to slide down my body again for the briefest of instances.

“No,” Sylas says as I take a step back from him, to the waiting arms of the guards, of Medius, of the black wraith-like bots who hover like menacing fog.

Tendrils wrap around my arm, taking hold. Taking me away.

“I will be yours, always, Sylas,” I say, my voice choked and deadened in the dry atmosphere of the box.

He drops to his knees as Ixor slams the flat side of a battle axe into his back below his wings with a snarl.

“Gakking Gryn,” he says. “Get back in the dome where you belong. I have credits to be made.”

He lifts his head from Sylas and grins his crooked smile at Medius like he’s done something incredible.

“And I’ll have my slave back. Her hybrid young will fetch me plenty when I auction her to the highest bidder.”

Bile rises in my throat. I knew Ixor thought nothing of me, but this is even worse.

Sylas has dropped forward onto his fists, his body heaving as he processes the blow from Ixor.

“That was not our agreement, bounty hunter. You were to provide information about your slave and her mate for a price. She will not be returned to you,” Medius says.

The tall, thin Lyarian procurator hasn’t taken his eyes off Sylas.

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