CAGED (#3, of Crows and Thorns)

Chapter 22

I hadn't seen Graysen for a week. Stubble shadowed his jaw. His bored, indifferent mask was gone, but his fathomless black eyes were guarded and wary as if he was bracing himself for my wrath. He seemed exhausted too. I didn't just see it in the tight lines in his face, or the faint smudge of purple marring the golden skin beneath his eyes—I felt it emanating from him beneath my own skin, bone-weary exhaustion. I wondered when he'd last slept, and then caught myself with a sharp reminder that he was a bastard and I didn't care. Couldn't care.

Graysen offered me the glass of water, but I just ignored the gesture. Instead, I tipped my chin toward Sage but didn't take my slitted gaze off Graysen. "How did he get here?" My voice was hoarse and I cleared my throat. His gaze honed in on the cartilage and tendons shifting with the motion. A faint tick below his left eye.

And then a desperate thought speared to the forefront of my mind. I shot to my feet, my heart in my throat. "My family?" Maybe my family had brought Sage to me. Maybe they were still here, worried for me, waiting to see if I was alright. My gaze sliced straight to the bedroom door I couldn't get past with this rope around my neck.

"No, not your family," Graysen said quickly, lifting a hand, palm outward.

I couldn't help the disappointment showing in my expression. My shoulders fell. "Oh."

"Just one of them," he amended.

My curiosity piqued.

"Caiden helped me out. Well, twice actually." Graysen frowned, dropping his gaze to the glass of water he held in his hand, tapping a forefinger against its curved surface. "He helped get the things for your room." He brought those dark eyes, with a cautious note shimmering in their depth, back to mine just in time to see me roll my eyes petulantly, Penn had already told me that. I mentally shook my head at him—as if I should thank him for that tiny little makeshift bedroom he'd made from his walk-in closet. However, it was thoughtful for a deranged captor I supposed. At least I wasn't forced to share with Graysen, and had relative privacy if I needed it.

I turned back to Sage, who moved to my side, shoving his snout against my thigh and making me rock back on my heels. I rubbed the top of his head, enjoying how he pressed back against my touch so I wasn't looking at Graysen when he said, "And I knew..." He sighed. A deep weary sound. "You'd appreciate a friend. So he went to Evvie and asked for Sage."

Evvie. Just the sound of her name had relief and desperation to see her again stab through my chest. My gaze whipped to him, unable to stop myself from moving toward his tall imposing figure. "How is she? Is she alright?"

"She's not exactly happy."

"Does she know?" About the Witches Ball?—But I couldn't push those words out. "Have my parents told her everything?" How they'd betrayed his mother and set this iniquitous scheme of the Crowthers into motion, me here, to be used as a way to find the Horned God who had stolen Tabitha Crowther.