Page 13 of To Cage a Wild Bird (Divided Fates #1)

I weighed my words carefully. “We have a mutual friend. And a shared interest in staying alive.”

August’s eyes widened, and he stared at me for a long moment. “I know her, yes.”

I had to fight to keep my mouth from dropping open.

A million thoughts raced through my mind—I could talk to her now. Today. I’d barely been at Endlock for more than a few hours,

and I was about to meet Kit and see how close she was to finding an escape route. “Where is she?”

August pointed to the screen at the front of the room. “She’s not here. She was selected for a hunt today, so she’ll have

dinner late with the other survivors.”

Understanding dawned on me. “The screen tracks the inmates being hunted?”

The numbers on the screen were three digits each, like the one that was branded on my arm.

August nodded. “There are three hunts a day, and up to ten targets are selected for each hunt. The first two hunts were already

completed, that’s why—”

“The X’s mean an inmate died, and the check marks mean they survived?” I concluded, nausea churning my stomach as I counted the number of X’s on the screen. Seven. And the third hunt of the day hadn’t even been tallied yet.

“And the yellow circles mean the results of the third hunt haven’t been posted yet,” August explained.

My stomach sank. My ticket out of Endlock was currently being hunted by bloodthirsty citizens with guns .

“But what if Kit doesn’t—”

August cut me off. “She’ll be fine.” He sounded confident about her odds of survival. More than confident—he sounded sure .

I narrowed my eyes.

“This isn’t the place to talk, anyway,” August said before I could speak. “Get yourself a tray and some grub from the front.

They’ll put the food away if you don’t hurry, and you can’t afford to lose weight here. I’ll introduce you to Kit tomorrow.”

I hesitated for only a moment before nodding my thanks to August, hiding my nerves behind a wobbly smile as I rushed to the

front of the cafeteria, dodging the glances of curious inmates. Some of the prisoners bore signs of abuse from the guards—split

lips and black eyes or, more subtly, in the way they shrank into themselves when they sensed me walking by them. Others met

my gaze head-on, asserting their dominance. Everyone was sizing up the new prisoners. I recognized a few people from the transport

and even caught a glimpse of Torin. He was wearing a brown uniform, which meant he was one of the exceptions Vale had mentioned—a

new inmate who started out with a higher rank because he was from the Upper Sector.

I snagged a tray from the depleted stack and placed a bowl on top.

The platters of food were nearly empty, but on the first table, I noticed the remnants of roasted vegetables and—was that

meat? I leaned toward it, but an inmate with a hairnet and apron stepped into my path.

“Greens only,” the inmate said. “Gray food is over there.”

She pointed to the last table in the row, and I walked over, remembering what Vale had said about the food for different ranks.

When I reached the table, another inmate ladled a scoop of brown, watery slop into my bowl, and I managed to snag a bruised apple from an otherwise vacant platter.

I’d had much worse.

The workers distributing the food wore brown uniforms, like Torin, which I assumed signified the Middle level. I wondered

if all inmates were assigned jobs during their sentences. A stint in the kitchen might not be so bad, especially if it meant

access to extra rations, but it must have been a sought-after job if no Grays occupied the space.

Back at the table, August half-heartedly introduced me to some of the inmates sitting on the benches nearby, a blur of grays,

browns, and greens, none of whom were Jed or Kit.

“Wait. It’s you.”

A voice, two seats down from me.

I turned to find a woman with a green uniform and gritted teeth staring me dead in the face, and I gritted my own teeth.

Of fucking course.

It was Perri.

She was tall and muscular, eyes as gray as the steel skyscrapers in Dividium.

I didn’t normally take joy in bounty hunting, but the day I’d turned Perri in had been different—I’d thought it meant no more

fake birth control on the streets of the Lower Sector. No more vials of dyed water that she swore would stave off nutrient

deficiencies in children.

Unfortunately, it had taken her arrest for me to realize she was only the face of the operation that had infected the city.

“I’m sorry?” I responded, stirring my food and feigning confusion while my mind raced to find a way to defuse the situation.

“You’re the reason I’m in here,” Perri seethed, getting to her feet and stalking closer to me. “She’s a bounty hunter, August.

She’s not one of us.”

I looked around the room, hoping no one had heard, but several inmates were looking on, glaring at me, the anger in their

eyes rivaling Perri’s. Great. I gripped my plastic spoon. If I snapped it in half, it should be sharp enough to break skin or at least gouge an eye.

But no one moved to attack.

August cast an icy glance in my direction. To my shock, he stared at me for a beat before he pronounced, “She is now.”

My brows knitted together. He had no reason to draw attention to himself, especially not to come to my defense.

I relaxed my grip on the spoon.

“You deserve to be here more than most,” I told Perri, my confidence bolstered by August’s words. “You probably have more

blood on your hands than I do.”

Her neck reddened, and the flush crept into her cheeks.

“Not yours. Not yet ,” she spat back at me, her threat clear.

A bell tolled, snapping the tension, and all the inmates stood.

I gulped down a few hasty mouthfuls of what I now realized was porridge and tucked the apple into the pocket of my jumpsuit

before hurriedly clearing my tray and exiting the mess hall on August’s heels, keeping a wary eye out in case Perri intended

to launch an attack.

I needed to find Jed.

“Did you notice any other new arrivals last night?” I asked August, unable to hold the question back any longer. “I’m looking

for my brother—he’s tall and lean with blond hair.”

“That’s your brother?” August nodded. “I know who he is. Kit told me what he did.”

I drew in a breath, skeptical. “She met him?”

August nodded again. “She’s been at Endlock for months. She tends to befriend the newbies, especially those rumored to have

punched Councilor Baskan’s son in the face. That’ll make him some friends.”

I breathed out a sigh of relief, even as I tucked away the new detail about Kit. She’d been at Endlock for a while . The Collective had made it clear that they needed my combat skills to get her across the Wastes, which had led me to believe

that Kit wasn’t able to defend herself. But she clearly had a strategy for survival out on the grounds—one that made August

certain he didn’t have to worry about her out there.

I shook my head, returning to the conversation at hand. The one where I’d learned Jed had punched a councilor’s son. I fought a grin. “That’s him. Jed.”

“I can’t say you won’t have enemies, especially with your background, but that boy? He’ll do fine here. Word gets around fast,

and people will look out for him as much as they can outside the hunts.”

“We’ll see,” I said. But the idea of anyone but me looking out for Jed was ridiculous—they’d be too busy taking care of themselves.

We turned, entering a new corridor. The right side of the passage was lined with cellblocks, six of them in total. We stopped

at the very end of the corridor, outside the final cellblock. The letter H was painted, bloodred, on the gray wall next to the card reader.

A guard stepped up, scanning his card and waving his arm to usher the inmates ahead of us into the hall. He stopped when he

reached August and me. “I don’t recognize you. You lost?”

I stiffened, waiting for the guard to draw his baton. But August stepped in front of me, catching the guard’s attention.

“It’s 224’s first day. I’m on orders to show her to her cell.”

Recognition flashed in the guard’s eyes at the sight of August, and he grunted, waving us through. I sucked in a breath.

“You don’t often hear of people standing up to the Council, especially when those of us from the Lower Sector know how easy

it is to get arrested. I’ve never heard of anyone being that brave,” August continued once we were out of earshot of the guard,

admiration seeping through his words.

I felt a surge of pride welling inside me, even as I wished that Jed had chosen safety over bravery. Instead, I found myself

glancing around a cellblock, surrounded by the stomping footsteps of dozens of prisoners, searching for a glimpse of his face.

The cells we passed at the beginning of the cellblock were void of any outside decor, and the prisoners within them were all

dressed in the same basic gray uniforms.

Above each cell that I could see, lit up on digital displays, were the inmates’ rankings—numbers one through three. The rankings were associated with the price placed on each prisoner’s head—the cost of hunting them.

“The rankings for Lower-level inmates only go up to three,” August explained when he saw me looking. “The Middle level is

four through seven. The Upper is eight through ten.”

We made it about a third of the way down the hall, and August motioned for me to enter an empty cell. The display above the

cell showed a ranking of three.

“Your examination with Dr. Row must have gone well if you’re already at a three,” he said.

I shrugged, looking into the cell.

A slim cot hugged the wall, draped with a frayed blanket and a thin wisp of a pillow blotted with questionable stains. Opposite,

a steel toilet provided an introduction to Endlock’s version of privacy. The cell extended a few feet beyond the end of the

cot but was narrow enough that I wouldn’t have been able to lie across the width of the space. A camera was the only adornment

on the otherwise empty walls.

Lovely.

I turned to August, motioning toward his green uniform. “You’ve made it to the Upper level. How long have you been here?”

“Two years,” he replied, emotionless. “But it doesn’t take that long to get your rank up. You’ll move up to the Middle level

if you do well in your first hunt or two. Most people don’t survive that long, so the Lower level is basically a rotating

door of new inmates. I’d imagine you’ll do well and move up, given your history.”

My mouth dropped open. “You’ve been here for two years ?”

“I hold the record.” A sheepish smile curved his lips. “I’ll see you at breakfast. Cellblocks share the same meal shifts.”

Then he left me alone in my cell and walked off.

Two years was impressive, but I knew it painted a massive target on August’s back. The wealthy took pride in their hunting

skills, and a prisoner who managed to elude their bullets for a year would’ve been tempting to any of them.

I stuck my head into the corridor, watching August’s back as he walked deeper into the cellblock.

“What’s your ranking?” I called to him. It was obviously high if he’d made it to the Upper level. But it couldn’t have been—

“A ten,” he said without looking back. He entered a cell at the very end, and based on what Vale had told me about Upper-level

inmates, I had to imagine it was a lot larger and far more comfortable than mine.

The guards made their rounds to secure us in our cells, and I was jolted out of my thoughts when a low whistle sounded. A

tall, rail-thin guard with a bushy mustache and beard and what seemed like a permanent slouch sidled up to my cell. A tooth

that had been shaved to a sharp point dangled from one of his ears, and his sleeves were pushed up so I could see what looked

like tally marks tattooed across the olive skin of his forearms.

“What have we here?” the guard drawled, gaze flitting up and down my body. “I haven’t seen you around before.”

“No fraternizing with the prisoners, Hyde,” a familiar voice warned, and then Vale was standing next to the guard, his eyes

narrowed.

Hyde. The guard who’d taken pleasure in melting through an inmate’s skin with a branding iron. Perfect.

Hyde licked his lips, not taking his eyes off me. I fought to suppress the shudder crawling up my spine.

“Careful,” a slimy voice intruded, and Mort stepped into view, still chewing his toothpick. “That’s the bounty hunter. I’d

be wary of your appendages if I were you.”

Like I’d touch any of you.

The words begged to break free, but I pressed my lips tightly together, glaring at the guards instead. I wasn’t used to holding

my tongue, but I’d have to learn fast if I wanted to stay alive.

Mort grinned, leaning so close that I could see the food stuck between his teeth from his last meal. He pinched his forefinger

and thumb together and then drew them across his lips to mime zipping them. “Fast learner. You’re much prettier with your

mouth shut.”

My lip curled, and my nails bit into my palms, the sting keeping me grounded even as I imagined all the ways I could incapacitate the guard. A jab to the throat would do the trick, but it wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as driving my knee into his balls, over and over.

The image brought a smile to my face, and Mort’s eyes narrowed. He reached for the handle of my cell door. “What’s so fun—?”

“Enough,” Vale commanded, voice dangerously low. “Mort, I need you to secure A and B Block. Hyde, you take C and D, and I’ll

be checking your work. No slacking.”

“What crawled up your ass?” Hyde asked, raising a graying brow.

Vale pinched the bridge of his nose. He let out a long breath, as if fighting to keep from throwing a punch at the pair of

idiots. “We want to be ready in case Larch decides to spring an inspection on us. Does he strike you as a man who tolerates

anything less than perfection?”

Mort and Hyde hobbled off toward the barrier door without additional argument.

“So sweet of you to step in,” I crooned, nodding after Mort’s retreating form. “But I’m more than capable of taking care of

myself.” What made him think I wanted his help, anyway? His choice of profession didn’t exactly align with keeping people

alive.

“Don’t take it personally, 224.” Vale leaned close. “I’m not in the business of helping rebels out of the kindness of my heart.

My job is to make sure everyone is following the rules—inmates and guards alike. Though with you being a bounty hunter, it’s

going to be hard to enforce the rules around you. Particularly the one that says inmates aren’t supposed to engage in fights.”

The fresh burn on my arm pulsed at his proximity.

I ignored the threat in his tone, forcing my lips into a smirk. “Such a fine example of a law-abiding citizen. Makes me wonder

what you owe Eris—something big enough for you to be skulking around the Lower Sector after curfew, hmm?”

Vale’s face twitched, but otherwise, he gave nothing away. “Careful. Don’t you have enough enemies, Little Bird?”

Then he was swallowed by the shadows of the corridor.