Page 79 of King of the Cage

The apartment was a studio, so there weren’t that many options. I moved past a leather armchair and the facedown book on a small table beside it. The fire had died during the night sometime, but it had made the room cozy. Beside the wingback armchair was a telescope, pointed up at the curtainless window.

I could imagine Bran in this minimalist but comfortable place.

Why are you thinking about him right now?

I shoved thoughts of my new husband out of my head and continued to follow the draft toward the stuffed bookcase in the corner. The draft was the strongest there. I stood and considered the bookcase. Why would a draft be coming from it? There had to be a hole somewhere behind it. I couldn’t see a single other place in the room where air might be coming in.

I methodically pulled books out and piled them on the floor. The studio didn’t exactly seem like the kind of place that would have a secret escape passageway in h a bookcase, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a more homemade method to get out of here if the front door wasn’t an option.

Sure, Bran’s home looked simple, but maybe it was deceptively so. The lock was top-tier, for example, and the windows didn’t open — and were unbreakable, if earlier was anything to go by. A man who made sure it was difficult to break in, or out, might be someone who had a planned escape route.

It took a while to get all the books off the bookcase. The man liked to read. I could picture him in his old jail cell doing that. What had Bran been like in prison? It was nearly impossibleto imagine such an unstoppable force of nature contained unnaturally like that.

Again, I caught my thoughts wandering over this man.Get a grip, Giada. I had to get out of here before he came back.

Once the bookcase was empty, I it out of the way, inch by inch. The cold draft picked up and held a hint of snow. It was January in New York City; snow wasn’t a far-fetched prospect. The hint of fresh air spurred me on.

As I quietly moved the bookcase aside, I saw exactly what I’d been hoping to find. A knocked-through hole to the outside. An escape route for the troublemaker who called this apartment home. I was surprised Bran could fit through the hole he’d made. It was just over a foot and a half across. Any wider, and I supposed it would be too obvious.

I raced about the apartment looking for anything of mine I could find. There wasn’t much at all without my cell phone. A dark-red lip stain and a little leather wallet with my cards in it. That was good enough. I shoved everything into my pockets, then stole socks and sneakers that were about eight sizes too big. Balled-up socks in the toes made them wearable, though they certainly added to the clown costume vibe.

Moments later, I climbed through the hole in the wall and out into the cold air of the morning.

My foot scrambled for purchase, and I peered down, shocked to see that the only place to go outside was a very narrow ledge. This was Bran’s escape route? It didn’t seem to lead anywhere.

Taking deep breaths, I tried to slow my pounding heart. There had to be a next step, if my lifelong career of playing video games had taught me anything. I just needed to see what the next stepwas, and hopefully not fall to my death, or at least gain a broken leg.

I held onto the crumbling side of the hole and twisted around. In one direction was the street. There was a drop of two stories, and the building next to me was about three feet out of reach. There did happen to be a rusted fire escape on that building, but I didn’t have long enough arms to reach it. Could Bran reach it? I had a sinking feeling that he could, and if this was an escape route designed by him, then climbing down the neighboring fire escape might be the only way down. I glanced around in vain for any hint of an easier way.

Then I spotted it. The rusted old fire escape had shiny, brand-new stairs. Someone was maintaining that thing. That pretty much confirmed that this was it; this was Bran’s route. Trust him to design something that anyone under six-five and of regular human strength couldn’t use.

Still, I had to try. I wasn’t going back inside to let Bran come home and find me still captive. It was a matter of pride. Besides, the quicker I got to Elio and told him what had happened, the more chance that Bran wouldn’t be taken out with a sniper shot and left to die on the street like a dog. He wasn’t listening to me about the threat my brother posed.

So, I steadied myself, got into the best position I could, took a deep breath, and leaped.

22

GIADA

Ilimped into the subway half an hour later and pressed my card to the turnstile. Well, that hadn’t really gone as I’d planned, but I was still alive to tell the tale, so I was winning.

Sure, I’d fallen short of getting my feet onto the metal platform and had dangled midair for a good minute, before dragging myself up, wrenching every muscle I had on the way. But none of that mattered, because I was free.

I leaned against the escalator and tried to catch my breath as I sailed down toward the platforms. Man, I needed to work out more. I was painfully out of shape.

A steady stream of people brushed past me, and I shifted closer to the side to keep out of their way. Below, the whistle sounded for an approaching train.

Someone bumped into my arm, and I pulled it in.

“Excuse me,” I muttered, getting annoyed at the people who were clearly far fitter than me and able to jog down the moving stairs instead of collapsing against the handrail like me.

“No. You’re not excused, wee one.” Bran’s deep voice froze me to the spot. “I told you not to test me… you didn’t listen. Luckily for us, there’s no tail on you this morning… except mine.”

I opened my mouth to respond but then thought better of it. I could hear the train approaching. It was going to stop and leave before I got off the escalator, unless I hurried. I had a chance to lose Bran, but I needed to be careful. I held my tongue. We got near the bottom of the escalator, jostled together by people stepping off. The train screeched to a stop. I had a few seconds until a stream of people coming from the opposite direction hit us.

Bran stepped off the escalator beside me. I took my chance and stomped down on his foot. I aimed for the one that hadn’t yet stepped off the escalator, hoping to throw him off balance. It worked for a split second before he caught his balance. The man was a natural athlete, and I was just me. Still, I never went down without swinging.

I sprang forward. He cursed and grabbed for me. But I was too fast, quickly darting toward the stream of people who had gotten off the train. I shoved rudely through them, muttering an apology here and there where I could, but being as ruthless as necessary to make sure I got on the train.

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