The Cage (Book 2) ✔️

Motel

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Motel

Julian's P.O.V

I put a hand to my chest right over my heart and massaged the area. It did absolutely nothing to ease my discomfort. It seemed that a stone had nestled into my chest cavity, burdening me in my every waking moment. Sighing forlornly, I pushed off the rickety old bed and stumbled my way across the stained carpet and into the bathroom to freshen up. The bathroom was cramped, with chipped tiles and a rust-stained shower curtain hanging limply. It wasn't much to look at, but it was functional.

Besides, we weren't staying here for long. This was just a one-night pitstop on the way to our destination.

Half an hour later, I was dressed, packed and ready to check out of my room.

The room's phone sitting on a nightstand rang. I rounded the bed and picked up the handset. "Yeah?"

"We're leaving. Are you ready?" Cade's voice carried through the speakers.

"Yeah, I'll meet you by the car."

I hung up and went to grab my duffel bag, then made my way down the motel's front stairs.

The motel sat off the highway like a relic from another time—an aging sign, neon flickering intermittently, reading "Vacancy" in bold, tired letters. The building itself was low-slung, a row of modest, boxy rooms with peeling paint and small, square windows. The doors, painted in drab shades of blue and red, each had a metal number stenciled on in fading white. A narrow parking lot stretched out in front, where old cars were parked haphazardly under the dim glow of a single streetlamp. One of the cars, an inconspicuous Jeep, was our ride.

The air was thick with the smell of stale cigarettes and bleach, lingering in the unkempt outdoor carpet that stretched along the narrow walkway. The buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead was almost constant, and the sounds of distant highway traffic mixed with the occasional hiss of an air conditioner struggling to stay cool. There was an old vending machine by the office, half-stocked with sodas and bags of chips.

I decided to grab a snack before we got on the road.

In exchange for a bag of chips, I sacrificed a dollar to the vending machine, only for the ancient thing to hum mechanically and then fail to provide me with my purchase.

"Don't you dare," I hissed, and proceeded to shake the vending machine with both hands. Little good that did me on account of it being bolted to the floor.

Growling in frustration, I slammed a fist against the glass, but none of the snacks in the machine budged. My reflection upon the glass was... not a pleasant one.

"It took your money?"

I looked over my shoulder to find Aiden descending the steps. Inscrutable brown eyes found mine. A part of me felt a bit embarrassed to be caught fighting a vending machine over a dollar.

"Yeah," I said, stepping away from the machine before the police were called. "Piece of shit," I mumbled.

In my defense, my frustration was at an all-time high. I felt high strung, pulled taut. I was at my limit. Now that Schneider was two states away, I felt restless, my hands flexing and unflexing by themselves. There was a lump in my neck I couldn't quite massage away.

My behavior was telling, it seemed, because Aiden approached me with a small smile, his enigmatic gaze turning warm. "It's a matter of hours," he said by way of consolation. "You'll be together soon."

According to the plan we'd hatched in haste, we would arrive at the location where Schneizel suspected his brother was being held. A sixteen-hour drive was all that separated me from Schneider.

If all went according to plan, of course.

The chances of something going wrong were astronomical. So much was at stake.

"You sound so sure." I said. I was a little bit envious of Aiden's optimism in the face of such overwhelming odds.

"I'm something of an expert in the chaos and mayhem department." Aiden said as his smile turned wry.

That brought a chuckle out of me. "Yeah, I've heard."

An eyebrow arched. "Oh?"

"You're famous back in prison."

Aiden's smile widened into a grin and his eyes flickered with seemingly long forgotten memories. "Never thought I'd reminisce about that place."

"It has its charms."

"Now that's a blatant lie."

I laughed. "You're right. It's the devil's armpit, and that's putting it nicely."

"You got that right."

I looked up just in time to see Cade descending the stairs, his steps steady and deliberate. His duffel bag, bulging with weapons and supplies, hung loosely from his shoulder, a quiet symbol of the danger we were about to face. He'd shaved his beard, leaving only the dark stubble at his jawline and the buzzed hair on his head. The new look suited him, sharpening the angles of his face, giving him a more focused, almost predatory air. There was something unsettlingly calm about him, as if he had already accepted whatever came next.

Schneizel followed close behind, and the moment he entered the room, I felt the shift in the air. His presence was different now, heavier somehow. The warmth in his eyes was gone, replaced by something darker, more intense. The electric blue fire in them burned a shade deeper than I'd ever seen before, void of the lightness he normally carried.

It was easy to imagine that the man standing before me was not Schneizel but Schneider.

My chest tightened painfully, and I had to fight to keep myself from flinching. My heart squeezed, a sharp pang that almost doubled me over. It was like hearing his voice again in my head, Schneider's voice, as if he'd never left.

I took a slow breath, forcing my thoughts back to the present, back to Schneizel standing in front of me, his jaw set and his hands clenched at his sides. A man poised for action, ready to do whatever it took.

Good.

Because I had a feeling it would take more than we had anticipated to save Schneider.

"You guys ready?" he asked, his voice low, controlled, but there was an edge to it now.

I nodded, but the weight of his stare lingered, pressing down on me like the calm before a storm. I decided to voice my determination. "I am." 

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

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