The Cage (Book 2)

Confrontation

Confrontation

I felt bad the moment Schneider left. I was overly relying on him to fix my own problems. True, he'd agreed to be my protector, but I had to admit to myself that I was starting to take advantage of his kindness. Yes, I was under the threat of violence, potentially death, but it was no excuse to rely on Schneider like this. He was not my keeper.

Grow a backbone, Julian.

Indeed, it was high time I did.

I abruptly sat up from the desk and exited my cell while I still felt fresh courage surging through me. I paused and pinpointed him walking down the catwalk. It was easy to do so; he was the tallest one, clearly visible from the rest of the inmates loitering about the catwalk. I rushed to him, my feet banging against the catwalk as I ran.

I felt eyes zeroing in on me as I passed by the inmates hanging outside their cells in groups of two or three. Through eyes brimming with uncontained curiosity, they openly eyed me from head to toe, doing nothing to hide their staring. After the chase incident, it wasn't hard to imagine that I'd managed to turn myself into an in-house celebrity.

Forcing myself to ignore their pesky gazes, I pressed on, determined to catch up with Schneider. For him, the inmates parted like the Red Sea, eagerly throwing themselves out of the King's way. For me, however, I received no such treatment. If anything, a couple of the inmates purposely got in my way before someone from the sidelines whispered to them about me being Schneider's property. That quickly got them to back off, muttering hasty apologies.

Schneider's property.

The unofficial designation pissed me off, souring my mood. I was about to retort that I was no one's property, that I was my own person, but I didn't want to lose sight of Schneider in this maze-like prison. Begrudgingly, I swallowed my pride and continued on.

He descended the catwalk on the next set of metal stairs, seemingly headed for the guard room.

I ran, and when I was close enough, I called, "Schneider!"

He stopped and turned at the sound of my voice. "I told you to wait for me in the cell. Go back to your cell." He didn't look pleased to see me if the way his mouth turned into a hard line was any indication.

His commands, combined with the inmate calling me 'Schneider's property', annoyed me further. "I do what I want." I told him with a deep frown pulling at my eyebrows. I raised my chin in an act of defiance, as if I was in any position to defy him. If anything, I needed him, but my wounded pride didn't seem to be listening to reason at the moment.

"Why did you come here?" he asked impatiently, his frown matching my own. Even scowling, Schneider was still seriously handsome. Heck, he looked even more swoon-worthy.

I couldn't help but recall him naked from this morning's shower. Wet and naked.

The sudden intrusive memory nearly made me forget why I'd followed him. Regaining my thoughts, I stammered, "I-I came to help."

He raised his eyebrow questioningly. He didn't even try to hide his doubt.

My pride throbbed. I could help! "I need to face those bastards to show them I'm not scared of them." I said, referring to the guards. Surely, by standing up to their bullshit, they'd stop harassing me, at least.

Schneider seemed to understand who I was referring to. "No, you don't. I'm your protection, so you need to hang back and let me take care of things. It's the way things work here."

His conceited, somewhat condescending tone ruffled my feathers. He was speaking to me as if I were a nine-year-old. I retorted, "You're my pretend protection. And I'm not the type to rely on others to solve my own problems."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't the defendant rely on his lawyer to represent him in court? Come now, I thought you're a lawyer."

Was he mocking me?

"That's not the same thing!"

"It's exactly the same. You need to go back to your cell and wait for me before you get yourself into more trouble. There's only so much bullshit I can get you out of."

"I don't take orders from you!" I growled, indignant.

"Be quiet. People are watching." Schneider drew close to me and hissed with flashing eyes, his breath fanning my eyelashes.

A quick glance at our surroundings confirmed his statement. Inmates from ground floor cells and even from the catwalks were staring at us, doing their damndest to eavesdrop on our conversation. But, at the moment, I didn't care about our little play being exposed.

Damn him for making fun of me and telling me what to do! Who did he think he was?

"If you're going to the guards, then I'm coming with you." I declared.

"I won't allow you to risk yourself because of your ridiculous pride."

"You won't allow me?" I let out an incredulous laugh. "You're delusional if you think you can control me." I shoved him away from me.

Screw this. I'd find that red-haired guard and deal with him myself. I was a lawyer, for crying out loud. Confrontation was what I did.

I sidestepped Schneider, determined to march into that guard room by myself. Or at least I attempted to.

He grabbed me by the forearm and pulled me flush against him.

"Where do you think you're going? You can't honestly be meaning to go by yourself." His gruff voice rumbled through me like an earthquake. He gave me a little shake as if to shake some sense into me.

"Wherever I please, and you don't have a say in the matter." I said, our faces mere inches away from each other.

A vein bulged and started throbbing in Schneider's forehead. His grip on my arm tightened painfully, and I winced.

I was about to protest, but the look on his face knotted my tongue.

"Like hell I don't." Schneider growled. Without warning, he pulled me into an empty cell on the ground floor.

I briefly noted that this cell had two beds on each side of the cell instead of bunk beds.

Schneider threw me down on one of the beds, then raised his hand in the air and the cell door slid closed behind him. 

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