The Captive (Sacrisvita Book 6)

by Dylan Steel

  THE CAPTIVE

  SACRISVITA BOOK VI

  Dylan Steel

  THE CAPTIVE: SACRISVITA BOOK VI

  Dylan Steel

  Heritage Publishing

  Copyright © 2016

  www.DylanSteel.com

  Cover design by Flappy Dog Designs.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ALSO BY DYLAN STEEL

  1. SAM

  2. RAW

  3. BLOOD

  4. TOO FAR

  5. A CONVERSATION

  6. CLUES

  7. A GIFT

  8. CUT

  9. READY

  10. UP

  11. THE VIEW

  12. GUEST

  13. INSIDE

  14. UNMASKED

  15. REMEMBER

  16. TRY, TRY AGAIN

  17. DIFFERENT

  18. DON’T MOVE

  19. THE INTERROGATION

  20. THE DEAL

  THE OUTCAST: SACRISVITA BOOK VII - EXCERPT

  READ MORE BY DYLAN STEEL

  ALSO BY DYLAN STEEL

  Sacrisvita

  THE PRODIGY: A Sacrisvita Prequel

  (FREE and only available HERE.)

  THE INSTITUTION: Sacrisvita Book I

  THE ARCHIVES: Sacrisvita Book II

  THE RELIC: Sacrisvita Book III

  THE ESTATE: Sacrisvita Book IV

  THE VANISHED: Sacrisvita Book V

  THE CAPTIVE: Sacrisvita Book VI

  THE OUTCAST: Sacrisvita Book VII

  THE TRIALS: Sacrisvita Book VIII

  THE ROGUE: Sacrisvita Book IX

  THE CITIZEN: Sacrisvita Book X

  THE SURVIVOR: Sacrisvita Book XI

  ***

  Third Earth

  SLEEPER: A Third Earth Prequel

  (FREE and only available HERE.)

  ALONE: Third Earth Volume One

  ***

  For the most updated list of Dylan’s books, visit www.DylanSteel.com.

  Join Dylan’s Insiders Club to find out when her next book is out! Plus, get an exclusive prequel scene to Sacrisvita.

  1. SAM

  The groan of metal echoed around the small room.

  Sage looked up from her databook, brushing a loose hair back from her face. She was splayed out on her bed, propped up by her elbows as her feet absentmindedly pedaled the air. Light from the hallway spilled across her legs momentarily, quickly receding as the door clanged closed once again. A familiar figure stood in front of it.

  “Lunchtime.” A gruff voice spoke the word from behind a mask.

  A tray clattered on the floor as the man set it down in front of the bed.

  She smiled slightly, her head tilting at the other tray already on the ground. It held an empty bowl from breakfast.

  “Thanks, Sam.”

  The man’s eye twitched. His glance fell on the databook in front of her.

  “Don’t forget to go over your lessons.”

  “I know, Sam,” Sage said begrudgingly. “I already am.” She jerked her head at the screen in front of her.

  “I’ll answer any questions you have after dinner.”

  “I know.” She sighed loudly.

  He nodded stiffly and stooped to pick up the used tray before letting himself back out the door without another word.

  She’d called her guard Sam, but that wasn’t his real name. Not that she knew what his real name was anyway.

  After being stuck in her new prison for more than a week with hardly any conversation and no introduction, she’d decided to settle for calling him the first thing that came to mind one day when he brought in her breakfast. While he didn’t seem particularly thrilled with his new name, he hadn’t forbidden her to call him by it, so she clung to it with a sort of desperation.

  Since he wasn’t willing to part with any real information about himself or where she was, she decided it was worth at least pretending she knew something about him—about any part of the situation she now found herself in, really. Ever since that day, she called him Sam every chance she got. Seeing his discomfort was the only form of entertainment she’d gotten in these past few weeks. Or had it been a month already? She’d meant to keep track of the days better, but she was pretty sure she’d gotten her count messed up more than once.

  Pushing off of the bed, Sage folded her knees beneath her and eyed the tray eagerly. A hunk of meat, a wedge of bread, a handful of carrots, and—she grinned—a pile of strawberries. He’d brought her strawberries today. She doubted Sam knew how much she loved them—not that it would have mattered to him—but she wasn’t about to question her good fortune. Whoever had her locked up in this room, they were at least feeding her better than the Institution had been. These were fresh berries, not some rehydrated pellets that had lost any real flavor years ago.

  She tore through the food on the tray quickly, chasing the meat and bread with water in thirsty gulps. A final, too-big swallow marked the end of the carrots, and she placed the bushy green stems back on the tray gently as she eyed the strawberries. She’d saved the best for last.

  As she savored the berries, a spark of hope flickered in her chest. Was it possible? Had they accidentally given her a clue as to her whereabouts? Maybe she was near Benefactor Chartreaux’s farm. How else could they have brought her fresh berries?

  Her brows furrowed as she silently deliberated. No. If her captors had managed to infiltrate the Office of City Beautification and kidnap her in the middle of a security lockdown, getting fresh berries brought in was probably easy. She snorted at the memory of the benefactor. There was no way a woman like that would be willing to get her hands dirty by being anywhere near a kidnapped kid from the Institution.

  Just as quickly as the hope had risen up, it was knocked back down. She rolled her eyes and sighed. This wasn’t the first clue that she’d had to convince herself didn’t matter.

  Wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist, Sage pushed the now-emptied tray against the wall beside the door. She paced the space in front of her bed for a moment as she debated again whether or not the strawberries were any help in determining where she was, then gave up and made her way into the small adjoining bathroom to rinse berry juice from her hands.

  Returning to the bed, she plopped herself on the mattress and leaned against the wall. She rolled her head to the side, and her eyes fell on her databook. She stared at it sullenly.

  It was hard to decide on the worst aspect of being shut up in this room without having any idea where she was or why she was there, but the fact that whoever had taken her had also insisted that she continue her studies—well, that was definitely in the running.

  The first time she’d seen him, Sam had told her quite convincingly that she wasn’t being shunned, but she couldn’t imagine it being much different than this. Being isolated, forced to work through curriculum—it reminded her a little too much of her Cleansings. She shuddered at their memory.

  She knew she should work on her assignments, but she really didn’t feel like it. At dinner tonight, Sam would ask her if she had any questions. And as she’d figured out pretty quickly after being stuck in this place, it was best to cooperate.

  Sam wanted her to continue learning what she imagined her classmates were, and that meant asking any questions she had—as long as it was about her courses and not why she was there or who had taken her. Those questions w
ouldn’t get answers, just masked scowls and silence.

  By now, Sage had at least figured out that Sam wasn’t the one in charge. Whoever was pulling his strings had an annoying interest in her “academic progress,” as Sam called it, and he had hinted strongly that her stay would be more or less pleasant depending on how quickly her work improved.

  With that sort of nebulous, ominous incentive, she’d spent a great deal of time studying the subjects that were loaded on her databook. There seemed to be a frustratingly disproportionate number of math assignments, though, and she often lost patience working through them. Fortunately, Sam was surprisingly tolerant of all of her questions, and with his direction, she was actually starting to feel like she was making some overall progress in understanding the accursed subject.

  But that didn’t mean she liked it any better than before.

  Rolling her head back up, she locked her eyes on the door. She’d gotten glimpses beyond it a few times, but she hadn’t seen anything particularly noteworthy. Sam did a good job of slipping in and out quickly, and she hadn’t tried to run after her first attempt. Her hands instinctively cupped her shoulders, rubbing them gingerly. She cringed at the memory of being thrown against the wall.

  Still staring at the door, her eyes narrowed in determination. She dropped her hands to her sides and pushed off the bed. There would be plenty of time to study later. Right now, she had something more important to do.

  If she expected to have any success escaping, she knew she’d have to stay sharp. Ready. Vigilant. She’d have to watch for any opportunity, but she had to make sure she’d be able to give it her best shot when the time came.

  Squaring up her shoulders, she closed her eyes and let her body take over with its memorized movements. She stretched out her hands, feeling the warmth spread to her fingertips as her blood started pumping a bit faster. She grinned. Even the light stretching was already making her feel stronger.

  She took her time working through Bokja’s breathing exercises before moving on to practicing forms. With great effort, she managed to muffle her normally loud shouts, dropping the volume to small grunts. Her elbow rushed through the air, moving past the connection with her imaginary opponent’s face.

  “Sorry, Sam,” she whispered under her breath, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

  Heart thumping hard from exertion, she walked to the end of the room, setting herself up for space to complete a more difficult extended form. Taking a deep breath, she lunged forward, barreling into the familiar move with more power than grace.

  An unexpected scraping noise at her door caused her to stop abruptly, arm hanging in mid-air. Her nose scrunched up in confusion. It was too early for dinner. It had to be. No way had she been practicing that long.

  Before she knew what was happening, the door swung open fully. Sam stood in the opening, watching her silently from behind his mask.

  Sage dropped her arm to her side.

  “I-I was going to study in a little bit,” she said sheepishly. She pinched a drop of sweat off the bridge of her nose and wiped it on her pants. “I just needed to stretch.”

  Grimacing internally, she hoped he wasn’t upset. That there wouldn’t be any punishments like in her Cleansings—she didn’t want to live in darkness and go without food, not again. Her heart started pounding harder.

  He tipped his head into an almost imperceptible nod. “It’s good to practice.”

  Her lips parted in surprise.

  “Just make sure you spend adequate time on your studies.”

  “I will.” She nodded.

  He paused.

  “You’ve been in here awhile.” It was hard to tell if that was a statement or a question.

  She wrinkled her brows. “Um, yeah?”

  “You’re leaving this room today.”

  Her heart ignited with hope, leaping into her throat.

  “You’re letting me go?”

  “No.”

  The now-small ember of hope crashed back down to her feet.

  “But I don’t—”

  “Come with me. But don’t try anything,” he added sternly, “or we won’t do this again.”

  “O-ok.” Sage nodded. She was still confused, but she quickly scrambled to follow Sam as he turned and walked away from the door.

  2. RAW

  Sage was careful to observe everything she could as she followed Sam out of her room and down the hallway. This was more than she’d been allowed to see before, and she didn’t want to miss anything that could help her escape later.

  Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to see.

  They walked past several closed doors, but Sam never once acted worried that she would bolt. His nonchalance was disappointing. If he’d shown even a hint of nervousness near any of the other rooms, it might have given her some sort of clue to help her leave eventually. But he didn’t. Sage figured the doors were all locked or, at least, didn’t lead anywhere that would be helpful for her.

  As they rounded the corner, Sage’s scrutinizing gaze fell on an open room. A Transfer. She hesitated.

  “Come on, Sage,” Sam called back at her. He hadn’t looked back or slowed down in the slightest. Sometimes his insight was unsettling.

  She steeled herself and marched into the room right behind him. Her confidence wavered for a moment as the door slid closed, locking them in the dark room. Unlike many of the other Transfers she’d been in, this one was completely opaque. Not surprising. It’s not like they’d want her knowing the details of the surrounding floors. No hints, no possibility of escape.

  Her stomach dropped to her feet as soon as the Transfer lurched upward. She stumbled forward a few steps, accidentally knocking into Sam.

  “Sorry,” she muttered through clenched teeth, “I’m not really used to these anymore.” Too bad Darren wasn’t around. It was always a minor comfort to be able to wring his hand with all her might as a Transfer moved.

  Sam glanced down at her unintended intrusion but said nothing. He fixed his gaze back on the door, waiting until it opened again.

  A blanket of warm air smacked against Sage. She blinked in confusion against the brightness that greeted her.

  “Go on.” Sam’s hand pressed against her back, pushing her forward.

  She staggered out of the Transfer, her vision still adjusting.

  “I’ll be back to collect you in half an hour.”

  Sage’s jaw dropped as she spun back around in surprise, but it was too late. The Transfer door had already closed, and Sam was gone.

  She eyed the door suspiciously for a moment longer, half-expecting Sam to reappear immediately to inform her that this was all some sort of twisted test of loyalty. When the door didn’t open again, she turned back around, forcing herself to adjust to the brightness of her surroundings.

  For the first time since she’d been taken, she was feeling fresh air and sunlight on her skin. She was standing on a rooftop.

  Though she had been confused at first about being left alone outside, she quickly realized why it was allowed. From her ride in the Transfer, she already knew that she had to be several stories high—too high to safely risk jumping down.

  Not that it would have mattered.

  The entire edge of the roof—or at least what she assumed was the edge—was lined with a wall more than twice her height. It was impossible to see anything beyond it other than the sky.

  Still, that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try. Sam told her she had half an hour up here. Alone. She didn’t have a moment to waste. As much as she wanted to enjoy the time outside, she knew she had to use the opportunity to learn more about her prison.

  Circling around to the back of the Transfer, she managed to get a glimpse of the whole roof. There was nothing else up there with her. No chairs, definitely no ladders, not even so much as a pile of cleaning supplies to give her a boost. And nothing on the exterior of the Transfer room seemed remotely helpful.

  She sprinted along the wall, looking for a crack, a
hole, a misplaced brick—anything that would expand her view or give her a boost. Nothing.

  By the time she’d finished rounding the entire rooftop for the third time, she decided to try to climb the bricks anyway, even though there was scarcely enough room for her fingertips. She tried several times, but every time she tried to swing both of her legs up against the bricks, she wound up falling backward in a heap. Her palms were scuffed raw, and her tailbone was smarting.

  With great frustration, she forced herself to stop trying. She didn’t want to have to explain her injuries to Sam, and she doubted that he would believe she’d just tripped if she kept trying and hurt herself even more.

  Tucking herself against the corner of the wall, she looked across the roof and stood on her tiptoes, trying to see over the far wall. No luck. She could still see nothing other than sky. Crouching low and springing as high into the air as she could didn’t help either.

  Sage slid her back down the wall until she reached the ground, slumping her shoulders. What was the point of being out here if she couldn’t leave? She couldn’t decide if this place was worse than the Institution. There, at least, she knew where she was and why she was forced to stay, even if she didn’t like it. Here, she had only an endless stream of unanswered questions. And she was alone.

  Sighing, she looked around the rooftop once more. Her eyes fell on the Transfer. She cocked her head at it as an idea began to form.

  Without a clock, she had no way of knowing how long it would be before Sam returned. She had to hurry if she didn’t want to get caught.

  Jumping to her feet, she rushed over to the Transfer, roaming the exterior as she examined it closely. It was shorter than the wall surrounding the roof.

  Sage bit her lip. It might be possible…

  She backed up until her heels scraped the wall. Taking a deep breath, she bounced in place a couple times and then shot forward, sprinting toward the Transfer as fast as she could. Just as she was about to smash into it, she lifted her feet off the ground and placed them against the wall, trying to boost herself high enough to grab ahold of the top corner.

  Her attempt ended with her fingertips sweeping across the wall near the top—but far from close enough to the edge to get any sort of grip. She landed and stumbled backward, nearly falling over.