Page 11 of Cruelly Fated
“Catch,” I said.
Then I pulled my arm back and hurled the fruit like a fastball.
Crack.
The hard fruit met its target. His head snapped back with a sickening pop. His buddies let go, and he slumped to the floor, blood pouring from his shattered nose.
One statement and one broken body—that was how you carved your name into the bones of a place like this.
Two guards strode over, grabbing him under the arms without much interest. They didn’t even look at me. Just hauled the unconscious body away like garbage. At the Avari Penitentiary, violence was punishable if it involved weapons or physical contact.
I’d used neither.
They lifted him by his armpits and his head bobbed forward. Inmates hissed as they got a glimpse of a nose missing a tip and blood flowing like lava.
With the bracelet suppressing shifter healing, that nose would never set right. He’d have a permanent reminder not to fuck with me and serve as a warning to others.
I dragged a chair from the next table and straddled it beside Old Pete.
After the guards hauled the kid out, the posturing around the hall dragged on for a few tense minutes. I sat vigil, staring daggers across the tables.
His gang stirred, calculating their chances against me. I met every one of their glowers with the same message:Try it, and I’ll rip you apart.
They were pack animals, feeding off each other’s bravado like hyenas. All noise and swagger—until one of them hesitated. And hesitation killed a mob faster than a blade. One by one, they deflated, sinking into their seats. Dissatisfied. But breathing—for now. When the last of them settled, I finally shifted my focus to the old man at my side.
Pete hadn’t moved a muscle. He sat stiff as stone like he could turn invisible if he stayed still long enough.
I tilted my head toward him. “Kyon.”
“They call me Old Pete,” he whispered.
Good. He still had enough fight to talk. I gave him a slight nod.
“I wish you hadn’t done that…” he muttered, voice rough. “The young man… You caused major damage to his face.”
I stopped stirring my fork through the sludge on my tray and arched an eyebrow at him. Worried about the punk who’d beenharassing him? How far would Pete have let them push him? Judging by his demeanor, I already knew the answer: all the way to the grave. Once a pack scented weakness, they didn’t stop until nothing was left to tear apart.
“He—and everyone else in this hellhole—will leave you alone now,” I said, voice clipped. “You’re under my protection.”
“I beg your pardon?” Pete wiped sweat from his brow, blinking at me. “I truly don’t—”
I waved his next words off. “It’s done.”
“But…I have nothing to repay you with for your offer,” the man said, genuine confusion clouding his battered features.
I bit into my apple, scrutinizing him. What the hell was wrong with this family? Too pure for their own damn good. First, the granddaughter—bold enough to pull a stunt on me without even realizing whose cage she rattled. Now this old man, worried about saving the same wolves who wanted him buried six feet under.
“There’s one thing you can do for me,” I said.
Old Pete’s eyes lit up with something close to hope—poor fool.
“Tell me more about you,” I said smoothly. “Do you have any children? Granddaughters perhaps…?”
Six
KYON
Icarved another notch on the wall beside my head with my talon, puzzled that time had lost meaning to me overnight. I no longer cared how long I’d been locked up. I only cared that a whole night passed since I’d seen her. Now I’d count days forward—six more to see her stunning face and those soulful eyes again.
