The Cage (Book 2)

Bookmark

Bookmark

I picked up the book I'd been occupying my time with before my attempted escape and subsequent injury. It opened to the page I hid the note in, which was now acting like a bookmark. Now that I was well enough to move around on my own, the first thing I decided to do was tidying up. My cell was a mess. It looked like a storm had passed through. Or more realistically, someone. Someone had rummaged through my things while I was confined to the infirmary for a few days.

Were they looking for things to steal?

Biting my lower lip in growing panic, I slid the book back on the shelf and moved to check the tin box I kept in the desk's drawer. The cash I'd brought here with me was untouched, all bills accounted for. My relief was immediate but brief. If whoever it was wasn't after my money, then why did they go through my things?

Was this a prison inspection?

As soon as I thought about it, I realized that that sounded logical enough, seeing that I hadn't been robbed of anything. Prison inspections were something the guards had been kind enough -note the sarcasm- to warn me about as they hauled me here, threatening retribution if they ever conducted such a search and found contraband.

And now I became worried they'd planted something just to get the excuse to take me down on their next inspection. So, my only recourse was to disrupt everything again myself, looking for that tiny plastic bag filled with suspicious pills or white powder, or something of the like.

"What are you looking for?"

I hadn't heard the door slide open for him, which meant he was standing right outside my cell still.

At the sound of his voice, my heart kicked into overdrive. I was abruptly split into two parts; a part that was happy and eager to finally see him, and a part that dreaded the confrontation, and had been dreading it for days.

Very slowly, I turned around and saw him standing right outside the cell's door.

He looked as dreamy and handsome as the day I first saw him.

Even if he looked like he wanted to tear the door open and charge at me. Despite the mask he had on his face to conceal any emotion, his expressive eyes betrayed him. There was a storm raging in his pewter-gray eyes. A storm that was about to break right on top of my head.

"S-Schneider..." I started, intent on profusely apologizing, but was cut off by the door screeching open.

Schneider stepped into the cell.

I felt like a trapped lamb that was about to be slaughtered. My protector was about to turn into my murderer. And I couldn't blame him one bit if he did.

Schneider got straight to the point. "Why did you run?" His voice cracked over me like a leather whip, harsh and unforgiving. There was no mercy to be had, I could see that in his burning gaze filled with disappointment.

His disappointment in me stung.

"I..." I knew this question was coming, but I still couldn't find an appropriate answer to give to him. What should I tell him? That a note delivered by a person I didn't even know made me suspicious of him, he who'd endeavored to give me every comfort and privilege since getting her when he didn't even have to?

When I put it like that, I really did sound like an ungrateful idiot. The absurdity of my reaction, how I'd allowed doubt to eat me alive and drive me to do something foolish, was filling me with remorse. Especially since I found out my little stunt might cost Schneider his position.

"What was written in the note?"

I gaped, startled. "You know about the note?" I hastily blurted.

"What was written on it?" Schneider repeated, his eyes going icy frigid.