Page 24 of To Cage a Wild Bird (Divided Fates #1)

Only one more target reached the Blood Tree alive.

Afterward, we made the long hike back to the prison surrounded by guards.

When Endlock finally edged into view, my heart kicked up an erratic beat in my chest. More guards stood against the cement

of the prison’s exterior wall, waiting for us.

I didn’t dare glance at Momo for fear of the guards becoming suspicious.

Jed whispered through barely moving lips. “Momo, if they ask. You were alone for most of the hunt. The hunter who selected

you attacked, and you were able to knock him unconscious in self-defense. No one was with you. Then you ran into us on your

way to the Blood Tree and asked if you could stick with us because you were scared. Okay?”

“Okay,” Momo muttered through clenched teeth, equally intent on not drawing attention. I could see how Endlock had aged him

even during his short sentence.

“Inmates, against the wall!” Vale shouted when we approached. “Put your palms flat against the building and spread your legs

apart.”

We complied. I wound up next to the surviving inmate I hadn’t spoken with before and looked around, whispering, “Do you know

what’s going on?”

She narrowed her eyes at me, tossing her head to move a lock of blond hair away from them, but finally relented and said,

“I heard the guards talking. They found one of the hunters knocked out cold.”

I nodded, ensuring my face remained neutral.

I imagined Larch was seething, out of his mind about the stain this would leave on his reputation and the effect it could have on his job.

The board had fired several of his predecessors for causing Endlock embarrassment or attracting bad press.

And now a hunter had been knocked unconscious on Larch’s watch.

The blond inmate next to me retched, bile and remnants of her breakfast spewing from her mouth. I followed her gaze and nearly

doubled over beside her. A guard held Torin’s body up, and another guard pried the teeth from Torin’s slack mouth with a pair

of pliers and dropped them into a velvet pouch. Nearby, Verona waited with her arms crossed and mouth pressed into a thin

impatient line.

“She’s a friend of the Council,” August whispered after seeing what I was staring at. “She specializes in going after targets

from the Upper Sector. Usually people she knew in real life that fell from the Council’s graces.”

I shivered, imagining Verona sitting at a table, hoping one of her friends would be arrested so she could hunt them down.

“How did you evade the hunters today?” Larch asked Momo, startling me with his sudden arrival. “The hunter who selected you

as a target was found unconscious.”

“I—I defended myself,” Momo answered, though his lower lip wavered under the weight of Larch’s gaze. “He was about to kill

me, so I tripped him, and he hit his head on a rock.”

Larch hummed, his lips stretching into a cold smirk. “Do you know what happens to inmates who lie to me, young man?”

Momo shook his head, his fragile frame trembling. My fingernails scratched against the rough wall before me as my hands clenched

into fists.

“I’m telling the t-truth, Mr. Warden, sir.” Momo’s voice held a brittle kind of courage. “I tripped him and then I ran—224

and 203 found me and let me stay with them until we got to the Blood Tree.”

“I see,” Larch said, gaze pivoting from Momo to me, lips curling into a sinister smile. “Though I’ve never heard of a bounty

hunter helping a criminal.”

I bit my tongue, holding back the retort I wanted to spit at him as I met his stare.

“Get them back inside!” he barked at the guards, stomping away from us and toward the hunting party, likely devising the best way to break the news of the injured hunter to the rest of his paying customers.

I turned to find Vale’s eyes locked onto me. I faced him, silently challenging him. But to my astonishment, one corner of

his lips quirked up ever so slightly, a fleeting moment that vanished as quickly as it had come before he herded us back into

the building.

That evening, as I entered the mess hall and snagged a tray from the stack, something felt off. I’d already learned to brace

myself for whispered insults and outstretched legs attempting to trip me as I walked past, but when I looked out over the

room, I only found assessing stares.

I claimed a seat at an empty table, casting an uneasy glance around, making sure to avoid looking at the live screen at the

front of the room.

I didn’t want to be reminded of everyone who hadn’t made it to the Blood Tree.

Before I could take a spoonful of my lukewarm stew, August sauntered over.

“Thorne,” he said with a nod, sliding his tray next to mine and digging into his heartier-looking stew.

“Hi.” I cast a sidelong glance in his direction. “Worried I’m coming for your survival record? I can give you some tips if

you’d like.”

He chuckled and rolled his eyes good-naturedly but didn’t answer.

Momo approached with Kit and Yara close on his heels.

Kit hadn’t brought up our mutual friend since helping me after Perri’s attack, and I knew I’d have to find a time to talk to her soon, away from the others.

Momo sat between August and me and glanced over with a shy smile. “Hi, Raven.”

“Hi, Momo,” I said cautiously, pushing past the bewilderment coursing through me. “How are you feeling?”

His reply was cheerful, as if his near-death experience was already a distant memory. “Oh, I’m fine.” He leaned toward me and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I keep thinking about the look on that hunter’s face when you shoved him. I bet he’ll never visit Endlock again.”

Momo dissolved into a fit of laughter.

August cleared his throat, and I looked over at him. He was staring at his tray on the table, his hand gripping a napkin tightly.

“I wanted to say we appreciate what you did for Momo. When he didn’t meet me at—” His voice cracked, cutting him off. “I thought

I’d lost him forever.”

My throat tightened, but he continued before I could form words. “To be honest, we didn’t expect you to do something like

that.”

Warmth crept into my cheeks under the weight of their stares. “It was nothing.”

“No.” Kit spoke up from her spot across the table, her gaze connecting with mine. “It wasn’t. You put yourself in danger to

save him. Most people in here, even the ones that care for Momo, wouldn’t have risked their skin for him. Thank you.”

I offered a nod, my usual wit failing me. I was used to lashing out against insults and taunts, not accepting gratitude.

Even Yara hadn’t leveled a glare in my direction.

“Oh.” August swallowed a bite of his stew and turned to look at me again. “Vale had Jed’s mealtime and cellblock changed to

align with ours. He should be here soon.”

My mouth fell open. “Why would he do that?”

August shrugged, not meeting my eyes. “I pulled a favor.”

A favor?

My eyes narrowed. Vale didn’t seem like the type to trade in favors—I’d seen the way he’d berated Mort and Hyde for breaking

the rules. Certainly changing someone’s schedule at an inmate’s request went against those rules.

But—

I had seen August and Vale whispering during the hunt.

They’d looked comfortable with each other. Almost like friends.

It didn’t make any sense.

I turned to August. He was laughing at something Momo had said, looking at the boy like he was his entire world.

Whatever his deal was with Vale, August had used that connection to help me.

The backs of my eyes pricked, and I had to blink several times.

A throat cleared behind me, and I turned to see Jed, standing there with a tray.

I gripped the table to keep from jumping up and throwing my arms around him—we’d barely survived the hunt and attracting a

guard with a baton was the last thing we needed.

“Hi,” I said instead, the wetness returning to my eyes. I slid closer to Momo and patted the empty space on the bench beside

me.

In the prep room after the hunt, I’d managed to fill him in on a rushed version of Aggie’s plan and how I’d wound up at Endlock.

He was frustrated that I’d risked my life for him, but I knew he was relieved, too. That he didn’t have to go through this

alone.

Jed dropped onto the bench beside me and set his tray down. “Hi.”

His fingers gripped mine beneath the table and I squeezed back.

We’re okay. We’re alive.

We didn’t speak the words, but I read them in the warmth of Jed’s eyes and the steadiness of my heartbeat.

But the calm I felt was only momentary. A pair of guards kicked off the wall at the edge of the mess hall, marching across

the room toward a table a few rows over from ours, batons in hand.

August leaned in close to Momo, putting his hand over the boy’s eyes.

“You there!” one of the guards, the one Vale had called Anya, shouted at a tall inmate with a shaved head. “377! We’ve been

informed you took an extra ration.”

The inmate looked around, seemingly confused, before answering. “Nat gave me the rest of her stew. She didn’t want it.”

“That’s not what we heard,” Anya answered. And then, before I could blink, she drew back her baton and slammed it into the

inmate’s head.

My mouth dropped open, and I gripped the edge of the table for support.

The inmate crumpled to the ground, unconscious, and then the other guard, a short, stout man with a black mustache, was on him, raining blows on his back and ribs.

Nausea curled in my stomach, and I fought the urge to rip the baton from the guard’s hand and use it against him. It was one

thing to know inmates were going to be killed on the hunting grounds and another to see someone beaten half to death for sharing food .

“You’re going to kill him!” Kit shouted, echoing my thoughts.

Anya held up a hand, and the other guard stopped his blows, spittle flying from his mouth as he tried to catch his breath.

Once he did, each guard grabbed one of the inmate’s arms, and they dragged his still body toward the mess hall exit.

Mouth hanging open, I looked around the mess hall, taking in the stricken faces of the other inmates.