I’m guilty, not stupid.
He slumps in his seat, draping his arm lazily over the back. I’m pretty sure his eyes flash gold, and that he’s not buying it. He waits for me to say more, and my stomach growls again.
Hard to ignore, I want to tell my stomach to hush and join me in my silence. But he’s relentless. I sigh. I can’t tell himeverything, but maybe I can tell him enough, so we’re both satisfied.
“Okay, look,” I say. “I don’t knowwhodid it, but I can tell you the what and the why.”
Caleb leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Go on.”
I swallow hard. I haven’t talked about this to anyone in a long time. The words are there, but when I open my mouth, there’s nothing.
Impatient, his lip twitches. He drops the berries and some bread onto a plate, then slides it over. When I push it back, he dumps the rest of the contents onto the plate.
My mouth waters and stomach growls. Probably because the only consumption happening is my conscious eating away at me.
“Why would someone kill him?”
I bite my bottom lip, looking down at my fingers and fidget. My explanation, much like my thoughts, are disorganized as I speak. “I heard they—the rogue—when they were fighting—it was two versus two—and he was going to kill a friend and the other—the other rogue, I mean—they did what they had to do.”
He pauses. When I don’t continue, he jiggles the plate, goading me.
I take a deep breath to try to slow myself down, but the panic from that day creeps in. “Alaina was being taken by Olivia, and the alpha had one of us by the neck. For a man no one thought he’d fight so hard. He was strong. He wanted to live...” My eyes sink to the floor, ashamed. Remembering where I am, I blink rapidly out of my somber. “... So I’ve heard,” I add.
Caleb’s face drops to the floor and peers up at me through his brow.
He nods as if accepting my answer but glares at me with hatred.
I thought revealing some of the truth would relieve me of some of the guilt, but it still weighs heavily.
I have to stop myself from apologizing.
Whatdo yousay to make amends for a murder?
And with the glare he gives me, no way would he ever accept it. He saysnothing. He doesnothing. Instead, he bites the inside of his cheek. After several moments of this uncomfortable stare down, he gathers the rest of the food and leaves.
***
One unfortunate yet inevitable use of the bucket and several failed escape plans later, and I give up. I’ve exhausted every idea I can think of that doesn’t involve more bloodshed. There’s no crack, no ledge, no hole, nothing to work an angle with. It’s like they don’t want me to escape or something, I say sarcastically.
Rude.
They’re forcing my hand. I’m going to have to fight to get out of here.
While I drum up the logistics of my plan, commotion draws my attention. I whirl around. It’s coming from outside my window. To catch a view, I retreat to the opposite wall, but all that’s visible are a pair of boots braced against the metal bars, as if someone is leaning on the wall above my window.
“Look what we found,” a man declares in a singsong tone.
By the sound of it, he sounds rather young. Late twenties maybe. His boots come into view, along with bare feet covered in dirt. I assume they belong to a woman because even with dirt, no way would a man’s toes look that clean.
A thump as smooth-skinned knees of the woman hit the grass in front of the leaner’s boot.
He moves, and the view of the bottom of his foot goes away and widens his stance enough, so I can see between his legs. He chuckles a throaty laugh. “Well, would you look at that. You’re a pretty thing... for arogue.”
Fear ensues, and my heart races rapidly. Doubt creeps in, and I double—triple—check that these grown woman’s legs aren’t my Casey’s. Once I’ve convinced my brain that what I’m seeing is true andnotCasey, I’m able to listen over my beating heart.
“. . . Doesn’t match the description.”
I catch only the tail end, but if it’s what I think I experienced, they must be trying to determine if she’s Caleb’s mate. By the sound of it, she’s not.
