Caged Kitten (All the Queen's Men #2) - Rhea Watson Page 0,93

just seemed ridiculous. We couldn’t be more different.

The clattering of a plastic tray on the floor had all of us rubbernecking to the far right of the cafeteria, where a new inmate in purple shot up. Male—a small, thin wispy-haired warlock who was white as a ghost and panicking.

“Take it off!” he screeched, grabbing at the leather collar around his neck and yanking. “Take it off, take it off, take it off!”

It all happened so fast: inmates shouting for him to sit down and shut up, guards charging toward him—then the inevitable tragedy. He snapped the leather band open with a cry, fueled by adrenaline and fear, and the collar reacted just like the rumors said. A storm of bright blue electricity erupted from the sigils and lashed at every inch of him, frying the warlock to a crisp. Katja yelped, hands at her face, eyes wide. Over in seconds, the blackened corpse crumbled to the ground, the cafeteria reeking of burnt hair and sizzled flesh.

Guards from all cellblocks swarmed the dining area, zipping around tables, bellowing for the rest of us to stay seated. An uneasy quiet descended over the entire hall, and just for a moment, unity had its day. Inmates glanced between themselves, to other tables, the threads of understanding and outrage strengthening, twining, binding us all together. Of course, it would fade. Supers had too much internal bullshit to wade through to ever act as one united force—or we would have overrun this place and burned it to the ground by now. As much as we loathed the guards, we despised each other almost equally.

Out of the corner of my eye, Katja shot to her feet and scuttled some five tables over to Willow. She was still on friendly terms with the rabbit shifter, who sat at her table alone now, tears cutting down her cheeks, and folded over as soon as Katja dropped down beside her. My mate rubbed her shuddering shoulders, flinching when one of the guards snarled for us all to stay seated. Fucker. If one of them made a move toward her—to chastise her, to haul her back to our table like it fucking mattered, I’d be back in solitary within the hour.

Much to my surprise, it was Fintan who reacted first, rising from his stool and gliding over to the pair as muted chaos rumbled through the cafeteria. While Katja comforted her friend, Fintan settled beside her and sat up straight, tall, strong, meeting the eyes of a pair of prowling guards on their way over. He tipped his head to the side, then flashed that smile that grated every guard here—the one that dared you not to beat him bloody.

Muttering to themselves and rolling their eyes, the pair in black fucked off to deal with bigger fish.

My inner dragon merely stalked about inside me, snarling at the situation but not at Fintan, not at the closeness nor the way he reached around Katja to pat Willow’s rounded back. In fact, we both acknowledged and appreciated his protective instincts; I’d yet to see him step up for anyone else in here. If keeping him around meant we had another set of eyes to watch out for Katja, to keep my mate safe, then fine—he could be as irritating as he wanted so long as he served a purpose.

Exhaling sharply, I faced Rafe again, all our earlier tension gone.

“We need to get out of here,” the vampire growled, bright eyes tracking the trio of guards who levitated the charred warlock for all to see, then slowly maneuvered him toward one of the staff doors. I gritted my jaw for a moment, then nodded.

“Agreed.”

“For real this time.” Rafe shot his cold blood breakfast back, then tapped the empty vial on the table. “Not just talk.”

We had entertained the idea of an escape countless times since the first day. Unfortunately, sunlight kept Rafe trapped and I would never leave this place without him. Then there was the squadron of armed crooks masquerading as guards, the wolf shifters patrolling the grounds, a warden hell-bent on making his prison baby the first, best, and most productive of its kind. If, somehow, we got past all that, there was still the impenetrable ward to deal with, and then the vast tundra wasteland of Siberia.

All this with our collars intact.

Because neither of us planned to leave this place a scorched corpse.

Not exactly a cakewalk, but it wasn’t just me and my friend anymore. I had a mate to