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In the stillness, my thoughts turn to Will, and how miserable he must be, locked in that dingy, damp cell, without a cot, or a blanket.

And Titus.

Titus.

I can’t place why my stomach flutters at the thought of his name, and it’s unnerving, the way my body reacted earlier today in his cell.

Agitated. Edgy. Hyper aware of his presence all the damn time. And that annoying tickle in my chest, along with the involuntary clenching of my thighs whenever I hear his voice has become the most frustrating part of our encounters.

Perhaps it’s because I’ve never had a man, aside from my father, fight on my behalf. Not even Will. In fact, when the church decided to ordain me as a Daughter, instead of offering marriage, or something that might sway my mother, he decided to run off and join Legion. At the time, I thought it was his efforts to commiserate with me, to share my suffering, but I later came to understand it was simply an act of anger and selfishness on his part. Anger toward me, as he admitted the night he took my virginity.

Behind shuttered lids, the visuals of that night come to mind. The cold earth pressing into my back, as we lay beneath the stars. The tremble in my hands while I touched his smooth skin. The pain and discomfort and yearning to tell him to stop, but I stayed silent, anyway. Because even if it hurt, even if I found little pleasure in the act, I’m glad it was Will.

Sweet and gentle Will.

At the opposite end of the spectrum is Titus, where my thoughts somehow swing toward like a pendulum. How utterly devastating it would’ve been for a man that size to have been my first. In spite of the wrongness of it, I can’t help but imagine his hulking body over mine, that warm metallic scent hitting the back of my throat, muscles flexing, those honey eyes burning over my skin, hungering and desperate. Like an animal. He’d probably stretch a woman in unimaginable ways. Leave her ravaged and destroyed afterwards.

The thoughts twitch my thighs, sending a strange ache to my core, and I clamp my eyes while squeezing my legs together. What the hell is wrong with me?

How can I possibly think of such things, after the night I had, watching the skin of a man’s hand melt away from its bones. A twinge of bile tickles my chest again, and I clutch the edge of the cot as the acrid taste climbs my throat, but it quickly settles back down. He said Agatha told him to come onto me, which has me certain now that I’ve been swept up in their game. To what end, though?

Here, I thought it was blind luck that Remus hasn’t yet forced himself on me, but there’s a bigger picture that I’m not seeing yet. Perhaps some twisted foreplay of building up my trust, only to catch me off guard. Like two cats toying with an unwitting mouse.

Only, I have to be shrewder, if I intend to survive them.

For not only my sake, but Will’s, too.

How did Will even get tangled into this web?

He mentioned a transport of silver cages. It’s possible those silver cages held the same mutations as the one I saw in the arena. According to him, his vehicle was raided by marauders on the route back from the convent, and that’s how he ended up here.

Remus raided the trucks.

And the cages.

Which means those mutations might very well be here.

What a distraction they would make. One that could surely allow for escape, somehow.

My objective tomorrow is simple: find out where, and if, the silver cages are here.

Chapter 16

The last thing I want to see when I wake up is Remus sitting at the entrance to my cell.

It’s hard to say how long he’s watched me, but the smile on his face, as he straddles the threshold, casts a sensation over my skin like a thousand tiny maggots crawling over me. It’s only when I’m fully upright that I notice the small baby bird cradled in the crook of his elbow, which sets off alarms inside my head.

“Good morning, Sleepy.”

“Good morning.” I keep my eyes on the bird, watching every stroke of Remus’s hand over its feathers. “She’s, um … not fully healed. I suspect she needs her rest.”

“You nurse animals, as well as humans.”

“I’ve cared for the occasional animal, yes.”

“No wonder you’re so skilled with Titus. I hear his wounds are doing quite well. Of course, his Alpha genes certainly help, I’m sure.”

“Alpha? I … I was under the impression the last of the Alphas was captured by Legion.” It’s a known fact that, for the last couple of years, Legion has hunted the former soldiers of Calico. I know this, because my father was responsible for capturing them out in the Deadlands.