Page 15 of To Cage a Wild Bird (Divided Fates #1)
“Dividium was split into sectors—the Lower Sector, for those skilled in trades, the backbone of our city. Lower Sector citizens provide us with necessities for everyday life. The Middle Sector is for our protectors and innovators: doctors and patrol guards, artists and entertainers, engineers and educators. And our Upper Sector, of course, hosts the guardians of Dividium: your Council and city officials, our army’s leaders, and our scientists.
Together, we’re dedicated to maintaining a city committed to peace and regrowth. ”
The camera panned to modern-day Dividium with its sleek skyscrapers and protective wall and then to the expanse of the hunting
grounds and Endlock.
“Each citizen has the opportunity to apply for residence in a different sector than the one they are born to, provided they
complete the necessary education and credentials for the position they’re seeking outside of their home sector.”
A pretty lie. Lower Sector citizens couldn’t afford the required education. The degrees from our schools didn’t meet the qualifications
needed to attain a position in another sector.
“Our Founders introduced strict laws with consequences to match, to protect our people, knowing that leniency with lawbreakers
is what allowed violence to escalate enough to force the government’s hand in the second Civil War. If one fails to uphold
these laws, we cannot count on them to look out for the betterment and future of our society, and we cannot waste our limited
resources on them. Criminals will be imprisoned, regardless of the nature of their crimes. Loyal citizens must aid in the
extermination of these criminals to prove their unwavering allegiance to Dividium. We continue our traditions for collective
peace. Those who cannot uphold our traditions forfeit their lives and their place in Dividium.”
Councilor Pena droned on, listing the Founders and recounting their contributions until the screen went black.
“There you have it,” Warden Larch said, clapping his hands together loudly enough in the ensuing silence that I jumped.
The legs of the metal chair I occupied screeched against the ground with my movement.
“The hunters, our guests, should be seen as guardians tasked with protecting our city. Even as criminals, you can still play a part in supporting the peace of our society. You’ll be an example to your loved ones and the very hunters who chase you—a reminder of the consequences of defiance and what must be done to ensure continued peace. ”
I swallowed the dark laugh that bubbled up in response to his words.
“I’ll let you get on with your orientation,” Larch said. “You won’t be seeing the hunting grounds today—in fact, you won’t
be seeing them until your first hunt.”
It made sense that they wouldn’t want us to get our bearings. Without a preview of the grounds, we’d be left purposefully
disoriented and vulnerable when they released us for the first time.
“My group, let’s go.” Vale’s voice sliced through my thoughts.
I trailed dutifully after him and the rest of our group.
We left the training area, passing back by the examination room and through the barrier door. Vale turned left, leading us
into a stairwell. We descended a lengthy staircase until we reemerged in Endlock’s underbelly. The temperature dropped noticeably,
and I wrapped my arms around myself to ward off the chill.
Corridors tunneled off to the left and right of the stairs, but Vale led us straight ahead.
Sporadic dusty wall sconces illuminated the underground passage and cast wavering shadows along the walls and the doors nestled
within them. Though there were cameras, they were fewer and farther apart than in the other parts of the prison I’d seen.
“Down here, you’ll find the infirmary,” Vale said, gesturing to a door with a nameplate that read Dr. Amelia Row .
A small smile lit my face when I recalled Dr. Row’s warmth, though it seemed wrong for such a kind person to be secluded in
the darkest part of the prison.
The hair on the back of my neck rose, and I looked up to see Vale staring at me, his eyes narrowed.
I broadened my smile, and his lip curled, but he averted his gaze.
My brows drew together. Even as I danced over the line of obedience and defiance, he didn’t lash out at me or react the same
way other guards did. What I didn’t understand was why .
“The workshop is farther down the corridor,” Vale continued, speaking to the group as if we hadn’t just had a silent standoff. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, each inmate has a set of duties within Endlock. Those assigned to the workshop handle repairs and maintenance.”
“When will we get our work assignment?” I asked.
An assignment in the workshop would be ideal. There was a definite advantage in having easy access to so many tools.
“Inmates aren’t assigned their positions until they survive their first few days at Endlock. We wouldn’t want to waste the
training.”
At dinner, after confirming Jed wasn’t in the mess hall, I loaded up with a bowl of watery broth—the only thing I could get
my hands on, as the inmate on duty at the Grays’ table had yanked away the tray of beans when I’d reached for a scoop. My
reputation continued to precede me.
My steps guided me toward the first relatively friendly face I recognized, which happened to be August’s. With our mutual
interests, I didn’t think he’d attempt to murder me over dinner, unlike Torin or Perri or any of the other inmates who were
staring daggers at me across the room.
August was conversing with a woman who looked to be a couple of years older than me, maybe twenty-five or twenty-six. She
had sleek black hair cropped at her chin and twinkling hazel eyes.
“What’s the point of wearing accessories if no one can see them?” she grumbled, pulling at the zipper of her green jumpsuit until the pendant
she wore around her neck was on full display. It was a golden butterfly, and I’d wager it cost more than a month of my earnings
in the Lower Sector.
“ You know it’s there,” said a woman across the table with a smooth russet-brown complexion and hair braided close to her scalp
in even rows. She also wore the deep green uniform of the Upper-level inmates.
“Yes, but I can only give myself so many compliments, Kit,” the first woman continued. “What if I want a whole gaggle of admirers?”
Kit. It was her—the person important enough to the Collective that they were attempting to make history by breaking her out of
Endlock.
I averted my eyes, trying not to seem too interested. It wasn’t the right place to explain who I was. Not while everyone was watching.
“Well, I don’t know about a gaggle .” Kit laughed. “But you have at least one admirer.” She winked, and the first woman’s face went from olive toned to scarlet
in a matter of seconds.
“Hi,” I said to August as I slid my tray onto the table next to him. He had been chuckling at the women’s antics but fell
silent at my greeting.
August stared at me for a long moment but finally scooted over to make a bit of extra room. “Raven, this is Yara.” He pointed
at the woman with the butterfly necklace, sitting on my other side.
I nodded at her.
She stared at me in silence, then turned her focus back to her food.
She knew I was a bounty hunter, then.
Across the table, Kit stabbed at her solid biscuit until the tines of her plastic fork snapped clean off. She sighed and dropped
the ruined utensil.
“That’s not food,” Yara addressed her, reaching across the table to grip Kit’s hand, stroking her thumb over her skin. “I’m
starting to believe you’re lying about being an engineer. You should know that thing is strong enough to be used as building
material.”
An engineer. I wondered if that was related to her importance to the Collective.
Kit’s wide green eyes glittered with amusement, and she squeezed Yara’s hand in return. “Very funny,” she said, her voice
so soft that I had to lean in to make out her words.
August set down his napkin and cleared his throat before Yara could continue. “Now you’ve met Yara, and that’s Kit.” He gestured
to the girl across the table. Kit gave me a hesitant smile, and I returned it, almost too eagerly.
“And this is Momo.” August motioned to the scrawny, wide-eyed boy with brown skin and hair shaved close to his scalp. The
boy was sitting on Kit’s other side, wearing a green uniform. He looked at me from beneath his lashes, and I guessed he must
have been about twelve years old.
Which meant he’d taken three strikes to earn his spot at Endlock.
“Food,” Momo told me when he saw me staring. “I stole food. I was the oldest of my four siblings, and we were starving. That’s why I’m here.”
I clenched my jaw, looking away and blowing out a long breath to loosen the tension in my chest. After growing up in Dividium
and hearing hundreds of stories like Momo’s, I shouldn’t have been able to feel any rage at all.
“I heard your brother punched Roald Baskan in the face.” Momo changed the subject, his voice filled with awe.
August glanced at the boy with a broad smile that crinkled the skin around his eyes, and I watched as he slipped the biscuit
from his tray and placed it onto Momo’s.
I softened at the exchange. Where Momo was all skin and bones on a narrow frame, August towered over the rest of us, his broad
shoulders suggesting that he’d be bulging with muscle if he had access to adequate rations. Giving up any bit of food would
cost him.
“He did,” I replied.
“For strike’s sake. Please tell me he broke Roald’s nose.” Yara leaned forward, deigning to speak to me. “I wish I could have seen the look on that
smug son of a b—”
“ Yara . Language,” August interjected before the curse could leave her mouth, his eyes flitting to Momo.
“ Language ,” Yara repeated, mocking. “Okay, Dad. Don’t make me poison you, too.”
My eyes widened, but I withheld my questions. For now.
August narrowed his eyes.