Page 10 of To Cage a Wild Bird (Divided Fates #1)
dangerously low on her back.
When the photo op was over, the guards walked us down a long hallway past a gift shop flaunting Endlock-branded apparel and
trinkets, intricately drawn maps of Endlock and the hunting grounds, and countless other souvenirs. After the gift shop, we
passed by a set of locker rooms that I guessed were meant for the hunters.
We stopped at the next door and were thrust into a dark room and forced to stand as each prisoner was led, one by one, behind
a black door.
Inmates stepped behind the door, and none reemerged.
I gripped the fabric of my cargo pants tightly between my fingers to hide the shaking in my hands.
“Landis Caraga,” a guard called out.
The man from the transport, the one who’d tripped me, took an unsteady step forward but stopped short when a distant, muffled
scream came from behind the door.
“No,” Landis whispered, shaking his head. “Fuck this. I’m not going back there.” And he made a break for the exit.
Four steps.
That’s how far he made it before a guard lifted her gun and buried a bullet in the back of his head.
My mouth flapped open on a silent scream, and I brought my chained hands to my ears in a futile attempt to stop the ringing there.
Around me, inmates dissolved into a mixture of shouts and sobs and silence, but none of us moved toward Landis.
None of us tried to escape. We just watched as a growing pool of red seeped from Landis’s lifeless body.
“Raven Thorne.”
My head snapped up at the summons, my gaze colliding with the hulking guard who’d called my name. My feet were rooted to the
spot.
My hesitation pressed the guard’s patience, and before I could take a step, I felt the prod of his rifle against my spine,
the metal barrel cool through my threadbare shirt.
I shuffled forward as fast as my manacles allowed and stepped through the door.
Blinding fluorescent lights assaulted my eyes.
Then rough hands were on me, unshackling my restraints and letting them clatter gracelessly to the floor.
“Take your clothes off.”
My gaze shifted toward the source of the voice, and my newly freed hands went to my neck, reaching for a locket that was no
longer there.
“Take. Your. Clothes. Off,” the guard repeated, her tone thick with irritation. She fidgeted with the collar of her uniform
as she spoke, her hair pulled back so tightly I half expected the strands to pluck themselves from her head. Behind her, in
the upper corner of the room where the wall met the ceiling, a camera was pointed directly at me, its red light blinking to
show it was recording.
I didn’t ask why. Not now that I realized the only protection I’d thought I had—Endlock caring enough about making money off
me to keep me alive until my first hunt—was nonexistent.
The guard didn’t avert her gaze until my trembling hands touched the hem of my shirt.
I tried to keep my eyes clenched shut, but I saw Landis every time I closed them, his blood spreading across the concrete
floor.
Breathe, Raven.
In, two, three, four.
Out, two, three, four.
I lifted my shirt over my head and dropped my pants, then my undergarments, using my hands to hide myself as best I could.
I’d never felt so exposed. So vulnerable. I could feel the guard’s hateful gaze and struggled not to let my mind focus on
the camera watching my every move. This was a violation, cold and sterile.
I shivered as the guard examined my body. When she was finished, she grabbed my wrist, removing my wristband—effectively removing
my identity and every credit I had to my name. She replaced it with a new black wristband, one that didn’t have a screen.
Once clamped on, secured tightly enough that it pinched the skin on my wrist, the device was void of any hinge point or visible
clasp. The number 224 was printed in white across the smooth, seamless exterior and a small green dot of light glowed next
to it.
I didn’t bother to ask what it was for.
The guard tossed my clothes into a metal bin in the corner and handed me a new set of undergarments and a backless medical
gown.
Reading the confusion in my eyes, she let out a huff and said, “The doctor needs to conduct a physical examination. It contributes
to your ranking.”
“What, the faster I can run, the more I’m worth to the hunters?” The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I froze,
my heart in my throat as I waited for her to pull her gun on me.
But she barely glanced at me as she said, “Something like that.”
The guard ushered me into an adjoining room, where a woman lounged on a rolling chair, her pen scribbling across a clipboard.
Her silver hair swirled about her tawny cheeks, curls bouncing with every move she made. Adjusting her spectacles, she glanced
at me with a bright smile that raised my brows. It felt like a trap.
“I’m Dr. Amelia Row.” She extended her hand toward me.
I flinched at her sudden movement.
Dr. Row’s smile wavered, and she retracted her hand without touching me. “I’m going to examine you for injuries and ask you a few health-related questions. Okay?”
I nodded, biting my lip as I waited for her to revert to the cruelty or disdain I’d encountered from the other prison staff.
“Excellent.” She gestured toward an examination table draped with a sheet of medical paper. “Take a seat for me, Raven.”
I quirked a brow at the unexpected use of my name, and she lifted her clipboard in explanation. The paper sheet crinkled beneath
my bare thighs as I jumped up on the table.
“Do you have any preexisting health conditions?”
I scanned the walls until my eyes landed on a camera identical to the one I’d seen in the previous room.
I frowned. “None that I’m aware of.”
“When was the last time you had a medical examination?”
“I’ve never had one.”
She looked unfazed as she jotted down my reply with her pen.
I’d focused on medical studies in my final years of school and learned enough to provide basic aid for my family, so we’d
managed to avoid paying for professional care.
Over the next fifteen minutes, Dr. Row performed my examination with far more professionalism and kindness than the guard
in charge of my strip search.
At the very least, there seemed to be one friendly face in this hellhole.
“You’re a remarkably healthy young woman, Raven. You could survive a long time in here.”
I suppose she meant to comfort me with the words, but they did nothing to soothe the sharp edges of my worry. My health would
offer me little defense against rifles and blades.
“Lucky me,” I said under my breath.
Dr. Row rapped on the door, and it opened almost immediately. The guard on the other side grasped my arm, yanking me away
from the brief respite the examination room offered.
The guard led me to a third room, where another guard stood at a counter, his back to me, fiddling with some sort of device.
My escort left me inside the room, and the door slammed.
Papers crinkled as the guard set down the device and picked up a clipboard.
“Arrested for theft,” he read off my record, sounding bored. “Parents were rebels.”
He stiffened as he read the second part and so did I. He finally turned to face me.
Both of us froze when we made eye contact.
“Raven?” The guard’s mouth fell open, and I noted the fresh cut across the bridge of his nose and the bruising under his eye
from where I’d punched him the night before.
Vale.