Page 16 of Cruelly Fated
Eight
KYON
The metal gate groaned with a prolonged, bone-deep shriek that made every inmate in the courtyard lift their head. Even the wind seemed to pause, holding its breath as five new inmates filed in, flanked by a pair of half-bored guards.
The scent hit me first—fresh sweat, too-clean laundry soap, and a faint trace of cologne that hadn’t yet been beaten out of them. New blood.
I stayed where I was, posted on the bottom bench near the east wall, my back against stone, elbows stretched wide along the metal rail like I owned the place. Because I did, the other gangs may have had numbers, but I had fire licking my veins.
Boots stomped in the dirt, then crossed the artificial court padding, coming for me. Here we go again.
“Voltaire?” one of them spat the name like a challenge, his voice coated in bravado.
I didn’t give them the satisfaction of peering up, my gaze on the pickup game. “No. I’m the fucking janitor.”
Their leader sneered.
I cocked an eyebrow, my gaze dragging over the five of them. Broad shoulders, bright jumpsuits that hadn’t faded from wash or blood stains yet, and curled lips, flashing too-white teeth. They wanted to make a name for themselves. And someone told them putting the dragon prince down would do it.
The first henchman lunged.
I let him think he had the upper hand as he closed the distance, breath huffing, muscles coiling for a strike. The moment his hand brushed my collar, I reacted. In one fluid twist, my elbow cracked against his jaw. The crisp sound, like a branch snapping, made me shudder, feeding the savage beast inside me. The dragon paced restlessly within the confines of my mind.
As the first fae folded and crashed to the ground, writhing, a second attacker roared behind me.
I pivoted, caught his wrist mid-swing, and bent it backward until the bone splintered. He howled with a high pitch. Isilenced him with a knee to the solar plexus. Then, I lifted him off the ground and tossed him into his friend. They both tumbled into the dust, groaning.
The third came with a dull shank. I blocked the swing with my forearm, letting it slash my skin just enough to fuel my fury, then grabbed him by the throat and slammed him face-first into the courtyard’s wall. Blood bloomed on impact, streaking down the stone like wine.
Another pair flanked me.
I ducked low, feeling their body heat as they passed over me, then I shot up between them, fists flying. One took a hit to the kidney, the other to the throat. They dropped like puppets with cut strings, wheezing and gagging, while they rolled in the dust.
The air shifted from the fight-induced adrenaline to a question of what’s next.
I straightened and cracked my neck. Inmates watched from the edges like wolves afraid to commit.
“TAKE HIM DOWN!” The command came from the open gate.
Boots thundered across the court. I counted six guards rushing me from both sides. I caught the first by the baton, turned his momentum, and threw him into the next one. They skidded into the mess hall wall with twin thuds.
A sizzling jolt of electricity shot through my spine. My muscles seized. I roared in excruciating pain from my nerve endings getting fried. These weapons were made to burn shifters alive. Another jab. Then another. My vision blurred with rage Icouldn’t act as they took turns stunning me. Each contact with their Tasers crippled me further.
Not able to withstand any more, I dropped like log to the ground. My cheek slammed into the dirt. Hands pinned my wrists. A boot crashed between my shoulder blades. The weight of their bodies pressed me into the ground like they tried to bury me already.
Someone slammed a Taser against the base of my spine, and lightning flashed behind my eyelids. And still—I laughed. Because I knew who had sent the new inmates in.
Father.
The dragon king didn’t dabble in warnings. But he lost today and would have to content himself with one hefty disappointment.
I guffawed like a madman when the guards shoved me into isolation. A genuine chuckle—the kind that told them they hadn’t broken me, not even close.
No windows. Just steel walls, a stone floor that reeked of old blood and piss, and a reinforced ceiling that even my dragon would have trouble clawing through. Impenetrable. A tomb without the dignity of death.
So this was Father’s follow-up move.
Five thugs. All trained shifters. All sent to drag me down in front of the yard. My brother had warned me last week. Told me not to underestimate our father’s reach. I didn’t want to believe it. A dragon king doesn’t turn on his blood…right?
