Caged Kitten (All the Queen's Men #2) - Rhea Watson Page 0,143

firmly on the ground, rooted in the moment. Pushing up on my elbows, I took a quick scan of the accident site. The limo had disintegrated, its parts scattered across the rocky moat surrounding the penitentiary. Fires smoldered in the ruins, blue flames from my magic clashing with the standard orange that sparked and dimmed along the ground. No warlock driver to be found, but I spotted a puddle of what might have once been a person—no longer in solid form, just a huge smear of blood and flesh and tufts of hair.

Floodlights erupted from the four guard towers, bathing the prison grounds in a furious white light. I brought up my hand to shield my eyes, adrenaline skyrocketing at the sound of boots on gravel, men’s voices rising, wolves howling.

No going back now.

Something told me Fintan would approve, while the other two would watch on with disapproving looks as they rolled up their sleeves, ready to get their hands dirty.

Each handsome face flashed in my mind’s eye, but the courage came from within, much of my rotting magic expulsed, the well regenerating, refueling, as I set Tully aside and crawled for a groaning Lloyd. Flat on his back, the warlock clapped a hand to his forehead, dazed—like Tully’s protection had been a halfhearted attempt, just enough to keep him alive but not necessarily well.

Ehh. Not that I could blame him.

Rocks bit into my palms and knees as I rushed to Lloyd, the stupid red dress he had forced me into intact but hiked up, exposing the thong that I’d discovered inside the folded garment.

Just as he started to rise, I scrambled up his body, straddling Lloyd and yanking his wand from the custom-tailored pocket inside his jacket. Teeth bared, a lioness and no longer the lamb, I jammed the end at his neck. Shock flashed in his eyes, and I fisted his stiff shirt collar and twisted.

“My, my, my,” he choked out, hissing softly when I stabbed his wand under his chin and forced his head into the dirt. Still, he had the nerve to smirk, to ghost his free hands up my calves to my bare ass. I tugged harder on his collar, fury twining with adrenaline as he whispered, “You surprise me, kitten.”

“Don’t you ever fucking call me that again,” I spat, which only made him chuckle. And you know what, I understood the arrogance. Not only was he a narcissistic sociopath, but he had an army of security closing in, wolves a fun little addition to his ranks.

Well. I had his wand.

And—

Something jabbed into my foot when I bore down on him. Frowning, I lashed back and into his pants pocket; my fingers closed around something cold and metallic.

A Swiss Army knife.

How handy.

Multifaceted, even.

Lloyd stiffened when I straightened with a newly acquired weapon in hand, but his face read like he knew just how to play me.

“What are you going to do with that, kitten?”

Tipping my head to the side, I popped out the knife portion, hesitated—then slashed at his throat, nicking his skin just enough to unleash a thin dribble of blood. It crept down his neck and plumed over his shirt collar. Lloyd flailed as if to roll me off, but I stabbed his wand to his temple, then pressed the knife back to the open wound with a little more pressure. The skin warped and split beneath the blade, another spurt of blood painting the silver red.

“You move, you look at me like you usually do, you cast anything, and I’ll slit your throat,” I growled, ignoring the incoming storm of boots and paws. When Lloyd just stared at me through murderous grey eyes, all the horrible things he planned to do to me after this if I failed playing across them like a black-and-white film, I pressed hard and zapped him with his own wand. Just a simple jolt, a little hex that first years learned at the academy to shock their friends with, like dragging your feet across carpet and poking someone. He flashed his teeth. I arched an eyebrow. “Do you understand? Answer, you piece of shit.”

Prowling around Lloyd’s head, Tully suddenly stopped and hissed. Ten feet away, a charging guard went down, clutching at his throat and writhing on the gravel like he was choking. It was only then that I noticed how close they were.

“Subsisto,” I murmured, sweeping Lloyd’s wand in a circle around us. Even with a conduit, my magic was more unstable than usual, firing from