Page 35 of To Cage a Wild Bird (Divided Fates #1)

sharply, pausing in his movements for a moment before continuing. I took shallow breaths, the air growing thick and heavy

against my flushed cheeks as the memory of his tight embrace in the shower flitted through my mind.

But then he touched the tool at my back, and I remembered myself. Stopped breathing as I waited for him to say something. To call another guard over.

The next moment passed like an eternity.

But then Vale’s fingers brushed softly against mine before he stepped away.

I let out a breath. Had August called in another favor? Or was this Vale looking out for me, even though he had absolutely

nothing to gain and everything to lose?

I didn’t have time to linger on those thoughts as Hyde started shoving inmates into place.

I joined the others in a single line and proceeded out the prep room door, to where guards confined us within our stalls.

The walls closed in on me, and my chest tightened.

I’d goaded Verona into selecting me as a target, knowing that it was what I had to do to take the next step toward escaping

by showing August the weakness in the fence and attempting to cut through the metal—but it wasn’t lost on me that every hunt

I participated in could be the one that killed me.

“Let me out!” the inmate in the stall next to mine screamed, his voice ringing in my ears. His nails screeched against the

metal as if he were attempting to claw his way through. “LET ME—”

The blare of the buzzer cut through his words. I lunged forward into the field, catching August’s gaze, and the two of us

came together, moving as a unit. Without speaking, we slowed our pace, placing ourselves at the back of the group, where we

could observe any changes in the terrain.

The field was a vibrant green beneath the midday sun, and insects buzzed over the tall grass, celebrating a cloudless sky.

Within seconds, the first scream split the air. My eyes snapped to its source—a girl with her leg caught in a crude metal

trap, its jagged teeth biting deep into her flesh. From the unnatural angle of the limb, I would’ve bet a month’s rent that

it was broken.

I shivered. The contraption was similar to those I’d seen in the history books at school. Game hunters used them to capture animals—bears, wild cats, and other beasts—sometimes for food, but other times for their pelts or sport.

If Vale hadn’t risked telling us about the obstacles, it might’ve been August or me writhing on the ground, unable to run

from the hunters.

The other inmates shifted, running in weaving spurts, avoiding the jaws of hidden traps. We all moved past the fallen inmate,

knowing we could do nothing to save her.

From what Vale had managed to tell us, I knew Larch had riddled the woods with more of the same torture.

Another scream made my blood run cold. The prisoner ahead of us vanished as if the earth had swallowed him whole.

August and I exchanged a glance.

Approaching cautiously, we found a trench dug into the ground. Its interior was hellish, lined with stakes, sharp as daggers,

protruding from the earthen floor of the pit. The inmate had been skewered by several of the stakes.

Blood frothed from his lips, a coppery tang thick in the air as he took a final heaving breath and then went limp.

My stomach churned at the sight, and I slapped a hand over my mouth to bite back a sob or a gasp or whatever strangled sound

was attempting to claw its way past my lips.

Vale had said the traps weren’t meant to kill us. It didn’t make sense that Larch would craft obstacles that were lethal to

the prisoners. Endlock would lose credits if the hunters didn’t get to make kills themselves. I suspected he hadn’t thought

the pit of spikes would be as much of a death trap as it was.

Focus. If you don’t focus, it will be you lying there next.

We cleared the field and entered the forest, rushing past dozens of mounds of freshly tilled dirt.

Graves , I realized, remembering what Yara had said about the malfunction in the crematorium.

Most of the graves were dug in neat rows, but there was a break along one area in the makeshift cemetery, almost like a path running through the mounds, though it was uneven and didn’t seem like a logical route.

It curved in multiple places, and there were a few spots where it looked like a guard had started to dig and then changed their mind, opting to leave the space untouched.

A sudden yank on my sleeve, courtesy of August’s quick reflexes, stopped me a breath away from a net camouflaged by fallen

leaves. It lay poised, ready to entangle any unsuspecting victim.

I let out a slow breath and stepped around the obstacle.

“I think Vale might’ve downplayed the gravity of the situation,” I ground out.

A bead of sweat trickled down August’s forehead. “That he did.”

We dodged half a dozen more death traps, but eventually, the hidden section of the fence came into view.

“There,” I said, pointing. “This is the spot. The foliage has covered it so long that the guards won’t notice if we cut the

fence and cover it back up, just like it was.”

August swallowed, betraying his nervousness, before he nodded.

A low hum pulsated through the air. It was not so much a sound as a sensation, scrambling my senses and making the hair on

my arms stand on end. I wondered if it came from a concealed trap waiting to strike us before a hunter could.

I looked to August—he seemed wary of the sound as well, but he nodded, and we continued toward the fence with uneasy steps.

The hum grew in intensity, settling into my bones, practically vibrating my teeth as we moved the foliage away from the fence.

I freed the cutters from my uniform.

“Were you going to leave the rest of us here to die, then?” a familiar, low voice asked from behind us.

I whipped around, muscles taut, ready to defend myself. I hid the cutters behind my back on the off chance they hadn’t been

spotted yet.

Cyril stood before me. His typically moon-pale skin now bore the angry blotches of sunburn, with his nose and cheeks taking

the brunt of the sun’s wrath. He impatiently brushed a loose strand of brown hair from his eyes as he stared us down, demanding

an answer.

“Cyril?” August’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“You think we’re stupid?” Perri stepped out of the shadows of the trees, glaring at us. “We know you’re trying to escape.”

“I don’t think about you much at all, Perri, but if I did... I’d be inclined to think that you are stupid, considering you followed me out here where no one can protect you.” I smiled as I delivered the words, even as my

mind raced. I stepped closer to her, away from the fence, hoping to guide her attention elsewhere.

“I saw the tool. No reason to keep hiding it.”

Fuck.

Perri would tell Larch what she’d seen—that she’d witnessed two prisoners trying to escape. She would ruin our plans before

they were fully formed if it meant returning to his good graces.

“Don’t insult our intelligence. You’re so selfish that you weren’t even going to let anyone join in on your little plan,”

Cyril said, his sneer deepening.

“We’re not trying to escape,” I lied, holding up my wrist and tilting my head toward the wristband. “We can’t. Even if we

managed to get out, you know the wristbands would alert the guards.”

“It’s true,” August chimed in. “We were looking for a place to hide when we found those cutters on the ground. We were planning

on turning them in.”

“Shut up, August,” Perri sneered. “I didn’t have any problems with you before, but now you’re siding with a bounty hunter ?”

Before I could react, Perri lunged at me, catching me off guard. The force of her shove threw me backward, my body connecting

with the ground and pushing the breath from my lungs as I lost my grip on the cutters and watched them skitter across the

ground. The coarse earth grated against my skin, and I felt a sharp sting on my forearm. My eyes darted to a fresh gash caused

by one of the many jagged stones. The rock had torn the arm of my uniform, and my blood painted a crimson stain on the earth.

Anger, hot and heady, filled my veins, and I gritted my teeth.

But Perri wasn’t done. She stalked closer, eyes wild with fury. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw August and Cyril engaged

in their own battle, their fists flying and enraged insults shouted between them.

When Perri got close enough to touch, I lashed out, my foot connecting with her shin and sending her flopping down to the ground beside me.

I sprang to my feet before she could catch her breath.

August cried out, and I looked over to see his nose gushing blood, his face smeared with red. Cyril’s face was bloody, too;

the two of them evenly matched. As they fought, they edged closer and closer to the fence.

And that’s when I realized what the humming noise was.

“Wait! Stop!” My voice rang out with such urgency that, rather than lunging at me again, Perri followed my gaze.

The color leached from her face, and she cried out, scrambling to her feet and racing toward August and Cyril with her arms

flailing above her head.

But it was too late.

August shoved Cyril with all his might. Cyril, caught off-balance, reached for the fence to break his fall. But the moment

his flesh made contact, it was as if the metal had ahold of him. His whole body shook, a violent dance as electricity from

the fence coursed through him. He convulsed, his muscles jerking uncontrollably.

“Cyril!” Perri’s scream, raw and piercing, split the air as she crumpled beside him, her instincts strong enough to prevent

her from placing her hands on his quaking body.

My eyes locked with August’s, the horror in them reflecting the sickening scene playing out before us. The world seemed to

slow, every agonizing second stretching into an eternity. We stood paralyzed, knowing that if we touched Cyril, we might die

alongside him.

Cyril’s grip on the fence weakened, though I couldn’t say whether it was an intentional choice because as soon as he had nothing