Page 26 of To Cage a Wild Bird (Divided Fates #1)

That night I slept more soundly than I had in years.

It was as if a weight, one I hadn’t even realized I bore, had been lifted from my chest, and I could breathe fully again.

Jed and I had never talked about the night our parents were arrested or how things had changed between us afterward. Now that

we had... despite being in Endlock, I couldn’t help but feel hopeful.

When I opened my eyes the next morning, I found Yara lounging gracefully at the end of my cot. She wore a delicate set of

pajamas, their soft fabric a pale blush. The pants and long-sleeved top matched perfectly and looked like they’d be more helpful

in warding off the chill than the standard-issue prison jumpsuits.

Anyone who could afford clothes like that was definitely from the Upper Sector, especially considering Endlock added an exorbitant

tax to pass gifts from families in Dividium on to the inmates.

She had a book propped up in her lap, hazel eyes engrossed in the words.

“You lost?” I ventured, squinting my eyes to be sure she was really there and pushing myself into a sitting position to be

ready to fend off any attack she might throw my way.

The soft rustling of pages ceased as Yara looked up, a flash of surprise in her gaze as if I’d jolted her from another world.

Her eyes, ringed with black liner and framed by lush lashes, settled on mine. A cross between a grimace and a smile spread

over her heart-shaped face, disarming me—especially considering her icy demeanor toward me and her detached reaction to finding

me nearly unconscious on the bathroom floor.

“Don’t play games with me, Thorne,” she said. “I still haven’t decided if I like you.”

“At least that’s a step up from hating me.”

“A small one.”

“Which begs the question of what you’re doing in my cell,” I pressed, crossing my arms over my chest. My eyes flicked to the

camera in the corner and then back to where she was sitting.

Her eyes followed mine and she let out a small laugh. “They don’t actually have the cameras running all the time. Coates is

far too cheap for that, and it would pull too much energy from the grid. The Warden runs them on rotation around the prison

to avoid causing a blackout in Dividium.”

“How do you know?” I asked, not daring to believe that we might have a reprieve from the guards’ prying eyes.

“Guards talk. You can tell which ones are on by whether there’s a blinking red light. Some of them, like the ones in the basement,

are hardly ever on—that sounds like a good thing, but it also means you don’t want to find yourself alone down there with

a guard. Especially Mort or Hyde.”

I looked back at the camera and noted that the blinking light I’d seen when I was first shown to my cell was missing. She

was right.

I cleared my throat, returning to the question at hand. “What are you doing in my cell, Yara?”

She huffed. “If you must know, I felt the need to thank you for what you did.”

“What I did?”

“For Momo, obviously,” she said, exasperated.

I flushed, pink staining my cheeks. “August already did that. It’s not a big deal.”

Yara scoffed and snapped her book shut. “Not true. Most people here wouldn’t even do that for someone they loved, let alone

someone they barely know.”

“Well...” I faltered. I didn’t know what to say to that. I cleared my throat. “Maybe I did it because I love hearing people gossip about me. I’ll be all anyone cares to talk about for the next week.”

She barked out a laugh. “You’re right about that. But look, I came to bring you some things. I have way more than I need.

My mother seems to be overcompensating for her guilt—she’s constantly sending me gifts. Really, how many outfits could a girl

need in a prison where her days alive are numbered?”

“You don’t need to do that. I have this.” I gestured to my dingy jumpsuit. It was covered in dried mud and probably smelled

like a Lower Sector sewer.

Yara’s nose wrinkled with distaste as she surveyed my outfit. “Take them. If you’re going to help my friends, then at least

have the courtesy not to subject us to your terrible smell.”

I took a subtle sniff of my uniform and cringed.

A folded set of pajamas had been laid out on my cot, mirroring Yara’s but in a gentle shade of green. Below it was a pair

of tactical pants and a matching long-sleeved shirt that were similar, though of far superior quality, to the set I wore back

home when I was tracking bounties. Alongside the garments were a plush blanket and an assortment of soaps.

In Dividium, turning in several bounties wouldn’t have been enough to afford all Yara’s gifts.

“Is this you playing nice?” I asked.

Yara waved a dismissive hand. “It’s nothing. I’ve never worn the clothes. They’re just gathering dust in my dresser.”

My jaw dropped. “You have a dresser in this hellhole?”

“Upper-level inmate.” Yara shrugged, pointing her thumb at her chest. “And like I said, my mother is constantly sending me

things.”

Yara had mentioned her mother twice, but I knew it was too soon to pry into the guilt she had touched on.

“Okay. I’ll take them. But only because I have nothing to wear besides this monstrosity.”

I pulled at my gray jumpsuit. The color was the only unoffending part of the outfit—and I suspected the colors chosen for each level of ranking had to do with allowing prisoners to blend into their surroundings to prolong the hunts.

If they’d given us the gaudy orange prison garb of the Old World, the hunters would find us within moments.

Yara rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I was giving you a choice.”

I bit back a laugh, an unexpected warmth spreading in my chest. I realized with a start that I already liked Yara. “Thank

you.”

Her smile grew wider, but she pressed her lips together, wiping it from her face as she remembered herself. “Yeah, whatever.

You can wear these clothes while in your cell or during rec time once your rank is better. The rest of the time, Larch mandates

the jumpsuits.”

“At least I don’t have to sleep in this rag any longer. You didn’t say what you did to convince the guards to let you into

my cellblock, though.”

“Cigarettes,” Yara said. “I get them by the carton, and I keep the guards supplied. In exchange, they give us a bit more freedom.

At least when the warden and Vale aren’t looking.”

I’d heard that cigarettes were commonplace in the Old World, but in Dividium, they were a luxury. Our fields could hardly

sustain enough food to last the city through the year, which made planting nonessentials like tobacco unrealistic.

“That’s why that guard didn’t hit you,” I said, nodding. “The one you talked back to outside the bathrooms when you helped

me.”

She grinned.

“Did you work in fashion?” I asked, gesturing to all the clothes. “Before you were arrested, I mean?” Some of the Council

and wealthier citizens paid stylists to choose their outfits.

Yara gasped, slapping a hand over her heart. “ Okay , bounty hunter, maybe I do like you. But no. Maybe in another life. In Dividium I was an agriculturist—most of my job was

studying the soil and trying to figure out a way to make it fertile again. The pay was shit and it wasn’t glamorous, but...

it felt worthwhile.”

Damn. Not what I’d expected, and yet it was probably one of the most important jobs in the city. Yara had been in charge of the future of our people.

I arched a brow at something she’d said. “You said it paid shit—how do you afford all of these things, then?” Blunt, but Endlock

had removed any manners I’d possessed.

“My mom’s superrich,” Yara said with a shrug.

“What does she do?”

That made her laugh. “She married the man who became the chief financial officer of Endlock Enterprises.”

I blanched. “Your father is the CFO of Endlock?” That made him one of the richest and most powerful men in Dividium. I couldn’t believe Yara had wound

up at Endlock—anyone in her father’s position should’ve been able to keep their daughter out of jail, no matter the crime.

“Was, bounty hunter,” she whispered, standing and leveling me with a wicked grin. “Until I killed him.”

My mouth dropped open, but somehow her revelation made me feel less wary of her, not more.

She’d taken down the CFO of Endlock. Her own father.

“Yara, you coming?” Kit called from the entrance of my cell. She gave me a small wave, seemingly unfazed by the look on my

face.

Yara nodded, backing toward her. “Yeah. And don’t worry, Raven, he deserved it.” She walked past Kit and into the hall.

An asshole who’d got filthy rich off killing us for sport? I had no doubt that he’d had it coming.

Kit lingered for a moment, a shy smile playing on her lips. “I think you might be getting past that prickly shell I mentioned.”

I ’ d decided not to ask August what he’d been doing with Vale out on the hunting grounds.

Even though August had called in one of his favors to get Jed moved to my cellblock and had admitted to working with Kit,

I couldn’t bring myself to trust him yet.

But the mystery of Vale... So far, even though he hated my guts, he was the only guard who’d shown an ounce of mercy and a capacity for empathy.

And I needed to know why .

If Vale was someone who could be called on for favors, I needed to get on his good side.

Make him like me. Trust me, even.

That morning at breakfast, he approached me in the mess hall to take me to my work assignment.

“How long have you been a guard?” I blurted as he swiped his key card and led me into the main corridor.

Very casual.

Vale looked at me with raised brows, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. “A year.”

I flicked my eyes up, scanning the cameras lining the wall. After noting none of them had a blinking red light, I continued

speaking.

“At Endlock the whole time? Or did you patrol the city streets before?”

At least asking questions was better than wielding sarcasm. Much friendlier.

“I’ve been here the whole time.”

He wasn’t giving me much to work with. I swallowed a sigh.