Page 62 of Claimed By the Psychos

"It's nice," Felix admits, but his tone is flat as roadkill.

I turn to find him still by the door, arms crossed, looking at our new accommodations like they personally offended his mother. "What's wrong? This is like... a massive upgrade from the medical wing."

"It's a lovely cage, Juney."

The words land like ice water down my spine. "It has windows. Cages don't have windows."

His laugh is bitter enough to poison small animals. "What do you think bars are?"

Oh. Right. Windows you can't open, three stories up, in a compound crawling with guards who definitely aren't here for our protection no matter what Bane says. The golden cage is still a cage, even if it comes with Egyptian cotton sheets and a bathroom that could double as a spa.

"You want to test how far you get?" Felix continues, that dangerous edge creeping into his voice as he gestures to the window. "Be my guest."

I chew my bottom lip, considering. The shadows in the corner murmur their opinions. Some vote for immediate escape, others suggest waiting, and one particularly loud one just keeps screaming the lyrics to a song I can't get out of my head. He's my least favorite, and I've named him Todd. But underneath all their noise, my own thoughts are surprisingly clear.

"I don't want to leave right now," I mumble, and even I'm surprised by the admission.

Felix's eyebrows climb toward his hairline. "You don't?"

"We're being hunted." I flop onto the obscenely comfortable couch, sinking into cushions that feel like the love child of clouds and memory foam. "Those assholes in the woods proved that. At least here we have... I don't know. Backup?"

"Backup," Felix repeats, like I just suggested we trust our lives to a pack of rabid hamsters.

"Besides," I continue, picking at a thread on the couch, "they're moving the base anyway."

Felix goes very still. "What?"

"Heard them talking about it earlier. A week, maybe less." I grin at his expression. "You're not the only one who can gather intel."

"When were you eavesdropping?"

"When wasn't I?" I shoot back, which isn't really an answer but makes him huff that almost-laugh that means I've won this round.

"Well, well. Isn't this a charming scene of domestic bliss?"

The voice makes us both jolt, and I look up to find Carlisle lounging in the doorway like he owns the place. Which, technically, he might. The man has that particular quality of rich about him. Rich and dangerous, which are usually my two least favorite flavors of alpha, but he wears them well. Almost as well as that all-black suit, his golden hair catching the light in a way that should be illegal.

"Ever heard of knocking?" Felix asks, already positioning himself between Carlisle and me. Subtle as a fucking sledgehammer, my Felix.

"I did knock." Carlisle's smile is all teeth. "You were too busy discussing the amenities to notice."

The way he says 'amenities' makes it sound like something you could get arrested for in several states.

"What do you want?" I ask, trying not to notice how good he smells. Wine and expensive cologne and something darker that makes the shadows perk up with interest.

"I thought you might like to see the firing range." His blue eyes find mine, and there's something in them that makes my stomach do a weird flippy thing. "Since you seemed so... enthusiastic about the Miller-Borne."

My entire body lights up like Christmas came early and brought automatic weapons. "You really have a firing range?"

"State of the art. Climate controlled. Fully stocked." He pushes off the doorframe with that liquid grace that makes him look like he's floating instead of walking. "Seemed a shame not to show it off, especially since we'll all be leaving soon."

Felix tenses. "Are you supposed to be sharing that information?"

Carlisle laughs, bright and sharp. "Probably not. But I'm sure our clever little Juniper already knows." He winks at me, and fuck my traitorous face for blushing. "Don't you, darling?"

"I might have overheard some things," I admit, trying to ignore the way 'darling' makes my insides go squishy.

"Of course you did." Carlisle's attention is like a spotlight, intense and impossible to escape. "So? Shall we?"