Page 16 of To Cage a Wild Bird (Divided Fates #1)
Kit cleared her throat, breaking the tension. “I think what Gus’s trying to say is that Momo’s already seen way more than
he needs to at his age. Let’s try to preserve some of his innocence.”
Ah. The peacemaker of the group. I sifted through what I knew about her—late twenties from my best guess, an important asset
to the Collective, potentially because of her knowledge as an engineer. She’d managed to survive Endlock for months, and if
I was right about the lingering stares and subtle touches they were exchanging, she was in a relationship with Yara.
“It’s okay,” Momo said around a mouthful of soggy biscuit, interrupting my thoughts. “I’ve heard the word bitch before.”
August covered his face with one humongous hand and let out a sigh. Kit and Yara made eye contact and dissolved into a cackling
fit.
I snorted, then reared back, surprised at myself, and cleared my throat. “Do any of you know where my brother is? I’ve looked
for him at dinner, but he’s not here, and I—”
I broke off, eyes snapping to the screen at the front of the room and the targets listed there with their X’s and check marks
and circles. I didn’t even know the number Jed had been assigned. Branded with. What if he was—?
“He’s not out there. He has the first dinner shift,” August said, and when I turned to him, his eyes were soft. Sympathetic.
I shook my head. “How do you know?”
“Because I saw him going into Block A his first night here, and that cellblock has the first dinner shift,” he explained.
“And his number is 203. It’s not up there.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, blowing out a long breath and letting the tension drain from my body as I committed the number to
memory. The knowledge made me feel more in control, but Jed being in a different cellblock and having a separate meal shift
would make communicating with him nearly impossible.
“For siblings, you two couldn’t be more different,” Yara piped up, looking down at her jumpsuit and picking off a speck of
lint. She pretended not to see Kit’s pointed stare.
“I know.” I toyed with the spoon on my tray. It was true. Jed was generous and brave, and I was closed off and selfish. I
had to be.
“Well, you’re both here now,” Kit said softly. “Do you know how the hunt selection works?”
I hated the pity in her eyes, but I wouldn’t turn away any knowledge she was willing to share. I shook my head.
“There are eight cellblocks, and Endlock runs three hunts per day with a maximum of ten targets per hunt. For each hunt, they rotate through the cellblocks. So if the morning hunt starts at Block A, the next selection is at Block B, and so on. It means we get at least one day off between each hunt. More if you can lie low.”
“Fat chance,” Yara murmured, earning another glare from Kit.
“It’s strange,” August added, eyes moving to the live screen. “For the entire time I’ve been here, I only remember there being
one or two days where the hunts weren’t filled up. But for the last month, there’s been at least one hunt a day with less
than ten targets selected.”
I glanced at the screen again, counting the targets.
He was right.
Only nine inmates were listed under the first column and eight under the second.
Kit hummed. “I bet Coates is about to blow a gasket over it. I heard he invested a ton of credits into advertising a few weeks
ago.”
I didn’t doubt that Endlock’s CEO had spent more on ads recently—my tablet had been bombarded with pop-ups before I was arrested.
Yara nodded. “Especially if the rumors are true that Coates is preparing to launch a campaign against the Council. Endlock
would have to be doing well for him to stand a chance. I’m sure he’ll very predictably run on the platform that because he’s
the wealthiest man in the city, he’s a great candidate, but it will be hard for him to claim he’s a competent businessman
if Endlock is hemorrhaging credits.”
I blanched. “Coates is planning on running against the Council? How? ” Dividium only held elections when a councilor passed, and the Council would never let Coates gain that title. He already
held too much power for their liking.
“With enough credits, he can make anything happen,” August chimed in. “But for now, we should be safe from seeing Coates on
the Council. Endlock’s definitely losing income—he has enough to deal with here.”
But the slight drop-off in revenue for Endlock didn’t make me feel any safer. There were still three hunts a day, even if
they weren’t filling up.
“When is our cellblock up next in the hunt rotation?” I asked, though I didn’t really want to know the answer.
“Tomorrow morning,” August answered.
I nodded. I’d have to be ready.
I ate the rest of my meal in silence, content to listen to August’s friends chat away and attempt to glean more information about Kit.
A sense of relief washed over me when the bell rang for us to return to our cells. I needed a break from the hatred-filled
eyes of other inmates that I’d felt boring into my back during our meal.
But as I was settling in, waiting for Vale or some other guard to secure the barred door of my cell for the evening, another
bell rang out.
“Showers!” a guard bellowed, his voice carrying easily through the cellblock.
I merged with the mass of inmates, the crowd pushing me forward. At least there was some protection in staying with a group—I
had no interest in remaining alone in my cell while Mort and Hyde skulked the halls.
A droning buzzer signaled the opening of the thick steel door dividing our cellblock from the rest of Endlock, and I followed
the group through until we arrived in a new corridor, lined with doorways.
The Upper-level inmates streamed in through the farthest door, the Middle-level inmates made for the center entrance, and
I was pushed through the closest door with the other Grays, into a communal bathing room.
Iron sinks, stained and rusted, lined the space. Showers stood at the center of the room, sterile stalls that held no luxuries—no
soap or towels or even curtains for privacy. But with the grime and weariness of the last day and the dried sweat coating
my skin, standing under a stream of hot water sounded heavenly.
There was one camera in the corner of the room, but curiously, it was pointing directly at the floor—positioned so it couldn’t
possibly track any of our movements.
Clothes fell to the floor around me. I hesitated.
“Five minutes!” a guard shouted from the bathroom entrance, impatient. I hurriedly peeled off my clothes under the watchful
gaze of the flickering fluorescent lights, fingers shaking slightly.
I left the garments draped precariously on the edge of a chipped sink to keep them out of the water pooling on the tiled floor.
Using my arms to cover myself, I slid into an unoccupied stall with my back to the room.
The other inmates had mastered an efficient routine of showering within the allotted time, and several of them were exiting
their stalls by the time I stepped under the scalding stream.
A groan threatened to escape my throat at the feeling of the cascade of hot water on my tired skin, and for a moment, I forgot
where I was.
“Get to the Blood Tree. Get to the Blood Tree. Get to the Blood Tree.”
The words floated to me from the stall next to mine, where an inmate was repeating the same bewildering phrase over and over,
her voice quivering as if her body was wracked with shivers.
“Get to the Blood Tree. Get to the Blood Tree. Get to the Blood Tree!”
Her voice picked up speed and volume, and I resisted the urge to ask whether she was all right.
It was best not to draw attention to myself.
“Shut it, loon!”
Perri’s voice cut through the misty air.
The inmate gasped, and the stream of water in her stall abruptly stopped. She skittered from the shower, shuddering as she
hopped into her uniform, soaking the fabric through. She ran from the room, hunched in on herself and still whispering about
the Blood Tree.
“She’s gone batshit.” Perri laughed, speaking to another inmate. “I heard she was sent here with her lover, and she watched
him die during their first hunt. She hasn’t said anything but ‘ Get to the Blood Tree ’ since. I can’t wait until one of the hunters finally puts a bullet through that lunatic’s head.”
My fists shook at her vile words.
It wasn’t until Perri left the room that I realized she shouldn’t have been there at all.
Greens had their own showers.
But I didn’t have time to ponder her whereabouts—I could see the other inmates were filing out of the room, and I finished up quickly, not wanting to fall behind.
Shutting off the water, I wrung the moisture from my tangled hair.
With the absence of the steamy water, an icy chill permeated the air, raising goose bumps along my arms.
The bathroom had grown quiet, and I noted even the guard was absent from the door.
I was alone.
I reached for my jumpsuit, trying not to let the silence unnerve me.
And then a few things happened at once.
The lights clicked off, plunging the room into darkness, and a sharp blow to my gut sent me crumpling to the wet floor, gasping
for breath.