Page 6

CHAPTER 6

brIAR

“H ey, Briar, you need to wake up,” a deep voice calls right next to my ear.

I bolt upright, my instincts screaming at me to get away from the threat. All I succeed in doing is smashing my head into a hard chin. I groan as I fall back against the bed and see a pair of familiar brown eyes pinched in pain hovering above me. “Sorry.”

“Nothin’ to apologize for. I shouldn’t have spooked you like that. It’s also not like this is the worst thing that’s happened to me in here.” Anson tries to joke, but it falls flat. He shakes his head at himself, making his brown hair flop around. “Anyway, we’re about to go for breakfast. They dumped you back here after you missed both lunch and dinner yesterday. After a session with them, you really need to eat to keep your strength up. I hope they didn’t do anything too bad since it was your first day.”

I open my mouth to tell him I’m fine, but I think better of it. Anson seems like he genuinely wants to help, but who knows if the Knights bug the rooms. I can’t have them knowing I can heal myself almost instantly with magic that hasn’t been seen for centuries.

I clutch my arm over my ribs to make it look like I’m still in pain. I struggle to sit up, contorting my face like it hurts as I do. “I just got a little banged up. My ribs took the brunt of Ryker’s anger, but it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” I offer him a small smile so he doesn’t worry too much.

Anson winces in sympathy. “Rib injuries always suck for a few days. I hate the feeling of not being able to take in a deep breath. Ryker’s such an asshole. That’s shitty luck that you got him for your first day.”

I snort because Ryker is, indeed, a colossal asshole. “Yeah, he is. Does Ryker supervise all the experiments they do?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. He only really bothers with the super important ones. Most of us only deal with him on the group projects. That’s odd that he participated in your session yesterday.”

I give him a forced smile. It’s not weird at all that Ryker was there. I’m pretty sure I hold the key to the most important thing they’re working on. Attempting to change the subject, I ask, “So, do they just bring us our breakfast in here?”

“Nope. Shifters are social creatures, so they let us mingle three times a day. We all eat meals with other shifters as a big happy family. They can’t have us losing our minds in here before we serve our purpose, can they?” Anson’s voice is dripping with bitterness as he goes over to his cot. Plopping down, he reaches under the bed to pull out a pair of worn gray slip-on shoes.

Peering under my own cot, I see a set similar to what Anson’s pulling on. I grab them and slip them on. Even though they’re a bit too big, it’s better than having to wander the facility in only grippy socks.

Pounding footsteps sound in the hallway. I whip my head around as I stand up to stare at the corridor in apprehension. Like yesterday, two guards come into view. However, these are different than the first pair. Both guards are dressed in the black tactical Knight uniform. Aside from their uniform, neither is particularly remarkable with brown hair, brown eyes, and averagely tanned skin.

When the two stop in front of our cell, a loud buzzing sounds before the cell door slides open. Unsure what to do, I just stare at them. The one with darker brown hair rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he barks. “Take much longer and you two can skip breakfast.”

Anson places a gentle hand on my back and shoves me through the door. He follows quickly behind me and guides us over to the wall opposite our cell. The guards walk down the hallway and follow the same procedure for the other ten rooms in this corridor.

A lump forms in my throat when I see kids wander out to stand in front of me. Some of them are Ava’s age, which makes my heart squeeze painfully. Others are even younger. I’d guess that a few of them are only five or six years old. My heart splinters into a million pieces as I look into the little terrified faces in front of me. I have the urge to shove them all behind me so I can protect them, but I know that’s not how it works here.

My resolve to get out of here hardens. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m taking all of these kids with me when I break out.

I glare at the guards as they walk to the back of the line. The one with lighter hair notices my hate-filled stare as he passes. Taking me by surprise, he snaps out his baton and slams it into my shins. Gasping at the sharp, intense pain that radiates up the front of my legs, I fight the urge to crumple to the ground.

The kids stare at me fearfully, a few of them even starting to cry. I groan internally before pasting a, hopefully not terrifying, smile on my face. “I’m fine.” I try to inject cheer I don’t feel into my voice to reassure them. A hit to the shin hurts like crazy because of the long nerve running up it, but it doesn’t do any permanent damage.

The older kids shake themselves out of their shock and start comforting the younger ones, even though I can see lingering fear in their gazes. It works for most of the little ones. The blonde girl right in front of me is still silently crying, despite the best efforts of the teenage boy next to her.

If my heart weren’t already in pieces, the girl’s silent sobs would absolutely shred it. Little kids should have messy, loud, gigantic breakdowns when things don’t go their way. They shouldn’t know to stifle their fear or quiet their cries.

I crouch down so I’m at eye level with the girl, who I’d guess is around five years old. I give her a soft smile. “Hey there. I’m Briar. What’s your name?”

Her big brown eyes peer at me cautiously as tears drip down her round cheeks. When she doesn’t say anything, the boy around Ava’s age standing behind her answers. “I’m Jake. You wanna share your name?” he asks the little girl as he runs a hand through his unruly dirty blond hair.

She wrings her hands before nervously whispering, “Annabel.” Jake’s pale blue eyes light up at her answer, and he flashes me a genuine grin at her speaking to me. I smile back, and he turns to comfort another little kid, trusting me to make Annabel feel better.

“It’s nice to meet you, Annabel. Are you looking forward to breakfast?” She gives me the tiniest nod. My smile grows as her tears start to slow. “What’s your favorite breakfast food?”

Her lower lip trembles slightly. “My mama’s French toast. They don’t have that here.”

I want to smack myself for making her think of her family. I hope her family is still out there somewhere, missing her cute face terribly. But there’s always a chance her family could be dead, trapped here, or at another Knights’ facility.

“I can’t promise French toast, but I’m sure I can find you a treat at breakfast.” I exaggeratedly waggle my eyebrows at her, trying to get her to laugh.

While she doesn’t giggle, a small, hopeful smile breaks out on Annabel’s face. “Really?”

“Definitely,” I promise without knowing what kind of food they serve for breakfast. It doesn’t matter, though. I’ll do whatever is needed to cheer the little girl up. “My little sister loves the breakfasts I whip up for her, so I’m sure I can come up with something.”

Annabel doesn’t get a chance to respond because one of the guards walks to the front of the line and barks, “Move it.”

Flashing her a reassuring smile, I stand up to my full height without saying anything, not wanting to draw any attention to her. Thankfully, my shins stopped screaming at some point while I was crouched down, so I should be able to move normally.

We silently watch the rest of the line slowly start moving. “Can I hold your hand?” Her voice is so quiet I almost miss it.

“Of course. I’m new here, so I could use someone to show me the way.” She puts her tiny hand in mine, a gentle warmth radiating off her. Annabel grasps my palm like it’s her only anchor in a raging storm.

Her chest puffs up. “I can show you around. I know the way.”

My lips tilt up at how proud she sounds. We start walking down the hallway, and I slow my steps so her short scrub-covered legs can keep up with me. If Anson minds the laid-back pace, he doesn’t say anything.

We walk through bleak white tiled hallways with harsh florescent lighting for probably five or so minutes. The guards don’t seem to have a problem with us seeing where we go for breakfast. I wonder if I really wasn’t allowed to know the way back to my cell or if Ryker just wanted an excuse to hit me. The dude seems weirdly fond of knocking me out, so I wouldn’t put it past him.

When the lead henchman opens a set of double white doors, I’m bombarded with the chatter of hundreds of conversations happening at once. Glancing around, I’m surprised to see that it looks just like the standard lunchroom at a school. On one side of the large room is a serving station with a grumpy-looking woman dishing out food to the supernaturals clustered around. Worn gray tables are jammed into every available inch of the remaining space, and most of them are full.

I don’t know why, but I’m startled to find well over five hundred people in the massive cafeteria. I already knew there had to be a ton of supernaturals here, but it’s different actually seeing it in person.

Hopelessness tries to creep in. If all these people couldn’t break out, how in the hell am I supposed to? I shove that unhelpful thought into one of the many boxes in my mind. Just because no one has escaped yet, doesn’t mean it’s impossible.

Something shoving into my shoulder yanks me out of my thoughts. I stumble from the hard blow, but I right myself before I can face-plant.

“Move,” the darker-haired guard, who must’ve pushed me, growls. I’m starting to think that’s the only word he knows.

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I do as he says and hurry to close the gap behind the person in front of me while still being mindful of Annabel clutching my hand. The line must’ve moved as I was gawking at all the people.

When I reach the shiny metal countertop at the beginning of the serving station, I grab a tray for both Annabel and me. “You want me to hold on to your tray for you? Or do you want it?” I ask since she can only just peek her head up to see the food behind the glass.

She lets go of my hand to grasp my baggy pants. “Can you please hold it for me?”

Her politeness would be adorable in any other circumstance. Here, though, I wonder what the Knights did to her that made her so courteous. Forcing a smile, I give her an enthusiastic nod. “Of course. Just let me know what you want me to grab for you.”

The buffet is surprisingly well stocked. There are eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, pancakes, an assortment of pastries, and a variety of drinks. I thought the Knights would be feeding us mysterious slop three times a day, not normal food, and I’m instantly suspicious of it.

Why do they want us to eat so badly that they give us appetizing food? Are they drugging it? If that’s the case, I’d rather just starve. Besides, Patrick often wouldn’t let me eat enough, so I’m used to being hungry.

Anson notices me skeptically staring at the food options. “They need us to eat to be strong enough for the experiments,” he whispers in my ear.

That explains it. Feeding us enough ensures we can withstand more injuries, so the Knights don’t have to be careful with us during experiments.

Annabel silently points out the scrambled eggs, sausage, pancake, and cinnamon roll. “You can only have one,” the woman grumbles when I ask for both of the sweets. Annabel looks heartbroken and reluctantly chooses the pancake. When I grab my food, I make sure to get a cinnamon roll.

“Do you know where we’re supposed to sit?” I ask Annabel. She points to one of the only open tables available. It’s on the far side of the room. Nodding, I make my way across the space, balancing the two trays while making sure I don’t lose her.

As I walk through the crowded cafeteria, I see more empty eyes and hollow faces than I want to. Despite the buzz of conversation, the lunchroom oozes with misery and hopelessness, like most of the supernaturals here have already given up.

I can’t blame them, honestly. Being captured by the Knights is practically a death sentence. I can’t recall a single instance of someone coming home after being taken by the Knights, which so doesn’t bode well for me.

“We have to sit with our corridor group,” Anson explains as we walk, nodding to the table filled with the same kids from our hallway.

When we reach our table, I realize there’s barely enough space for Anson and me to sit, much less Annabel, too. I notice that other little ones are sitting on the older kids’ laps to make more space at the cramped table.

Would it kill the Knights to provide enough seating?

Apparently.

Sighing, I set the two trays on the table and squat down so I’m level with Annabel. “You wanna sit on my lap? If you’re uncomfortable with that, I can just stand while you sit.”

Anson huffs behind me. “You two can sit. I’ll stand.” I turn, raising my eyebrows at him. He cocks one back at me, daring me to argue with him. The move is so similar to something that Malachi would do. My heart flips painfully in my chest at the reminder of one of my mates. I miss them so damn much, and it’s only been a day or two.

“I don’t mind,” her sweet voice chimes in quietly. “I used to sit with Sage for meals.”

Offering Annabel a half smile, I sit down in front of our trays. She clambers up onto my lap, and Anson squeezes into the minuscule remaining space without a complaint. “Which one is Sage?” I ask as I pull her food closer so she can reach it. I also place my cinnamon roll onto her tray.

She twists around to beam at me for the small gift before the joy drains out of her face as she processes my question. “Sage isn’t here anymore.”

Jesus Christ.

I’m apparently awful at talking to kids because I can’t seem to say anything right to the little girl.

Banding my arm around her middle, I hug Annabel to me much like I used to do when Ava was small. I can’t make the situation any less shitty or bring back her friend, but I offer what little comfort I can.

The two of us tuck into our food without another word. I scarf down the heaping portions of eggs, sausage, bacon, and ham the lady piled on my tray. I don’t know why she gave me so much food, but I’m here for it. My stomach feels like it’s trying to eat itself with how hungry I am.

While Annabel doesn’t eat nearly as much as I do, she makes sure to polish off the syrupy pancake and the frosting-covered cinnamon roll. I snort at how enthusiastic she is about the sweets. A girl after my own heart.

Conversations resume around the table, the kids keeping it to light topics. Glancing around, I’m startled not to see another adult at our table aside from Anson and me. Looking around the room, I see about an equal percentage of adults to kids, so our section must be weird.

When I’m almost done eating, I hear a commotion behind me. Keeping an arm around Annabel, I turn in my seat to see a contingent of new guards marching their way to our table. I curl my body around Annabel, like that can keep the goons from seeing her.

As they come to a stop in front of our table, one of them calls, “Subject five hundred and eighty-two is required for an experiment immediately.”

Annabel goes rigid in my lap. I look down at her questioningly. “That’s me,” she breathes, her eyes wide and terrified as she stares up at me.