The Captive (Sacrisvita Book 6)

by Dylan Steel

  Sophia grabbed her arm. “How are you here?” she repeated.

  “I-I didn’t mean to—I’ll leave.” Sage pleaded, wriggling under her grasp. She couldn’t believe how strong the benefactor was.

  Maintaining her surprisingly firm hold, Sophia continued staring at Sage. “Leave?” Her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. “No, you—” she stopped, glancing over Sage’s shoulder. “Oh,” she said, relief visibly washing over her face as she looked back at Sage, “thank goodness.”

  Sage felt the benefactor’s grip loosen a little. Wresting her arm free, she took another step backward. She wasn’t sure exactly what was going through the benefactor’s mind, but she wasn’t about to stick around to find out. She needed to get to freedom. Spinning around quickly, she leapt toward the door in a burst of energy.

  She smacked headfirst into something solid. Staggering back, she blinked a couple times and shook her head in an effort to refocus her vision.

  Lifting her head, she realized she’d run straight into a man’s chest. Her eyes darted up to his face. She remembered what Mr. Bennick looked like, and this wasn’t him. She didn’t recognize this man at all.

  He gave her a curious look and then looked past her to the benefactor.

  “Sophia?”

  Sage’s attention snapped back to the woman behind her. Her heart began to sink when she realized she was caught between two adults. She needed to get out before they stopped her. Before Sam showed up.

  The benefactor nodded sadly at the man. “You have to.”

  For reasons she didn’t understand, those words made Sage’s blood run cold. She turned back around, ready to run again, but a strong hand fell on her shoulder, causing her knees to buckle, stopping her before she could take a single step.

  It was a familiar feeling, one that flooded her with fear. She looked up at the man’s face, studying his eyes as her heart threatened to pound out of her chest.

  “Sam?” she whispered.

  He flinched.

  The next moments blurred together as Sage flailed her limbs, fighting to free herself from the man’s grip, but she soon found herself hoisted high in the air and braced across his shoulders, her wrists and ankles trapped together at his sides, each set caught in one of his strong hands.

  She heard a far-off, bloodcurdling scream as she watched the outside world and her freedom slip away one jarring step at a time.

  Only once the man stepped into the Transfer with her, after the door had enclosed them both in the small space, did she realize the sound echoing throughout the room was coming from her.

  Snapping her mouth closed, she breathed heavily through her nose, trying to coax her heart from her throat back down into her chest. The door slid open, and she winced as her body bounced with each step he took, sending painful jolts through the injuries she’d sustained in the last few hours.

  It wasn’t long before they arrived back at her cell. She hadn’t even realized Sophia had accompanied them until the door to her room creaked open without Sam once releasing his grip on her.

  Her vision spiraled into a blur of sideways color as Sam turned around and lowered her onto her bed. She tried to stand, but Sam immediately pushed down on her shoulder, simultaneously sweeping his leg under hers. The whole of her weight came crashing down as she thudded backward onto the floor, all the oxygen rushing from her lungs in an instant.

  She gaped up at him, eyes wide as she tried desperately to suck in air. Her eyes darted first from Sam to Sophia and then back again. It made her angry when she realized she felt tears forming at the corners of her eyes. She didn’t want to show any weakness, but she was doing a terrible job hiding it. Despair was overwhelming her.

  “I told you not to do that,” he growled. The familiar words erased any doubt she still had that the man standing in front of her really was Sam. And now she knew his face.

  He snatched the rope that was still dangling from her shoulder and left her gasping for breath on the floor. Standing at the entrance of her room, he paused. “You shouldn’t have tried to run.”

  “Why?” Sage managed to rasp out one word before choking on it, erupting into a coughing fit.

  She saw Sophia shoot a sideways glance at Sam, a look of concern etched across her face as if she were silently questioning what Sam—what she—had just done.

  But he didn’t answer either of them. He waited for Sophia to leave first and then pulled the door closed, leaving Sage alone, trapped once again in her room.

  14. UNMASKED

  A loud knock at the door startled Sage awake.

  “You need to come out now.”

  She sat up stiffly, cringing at the soreness she felt from being folded up on herself in the corner of the bathroom floor. Confused, she stared at the door, blinking as she tried to remember why she was there.

  “Sage, you can’t stay in there forever. You need to eat something.” Sam’s frustration could be heard through the door. “And I need to examine your injuries.”

  Everything from the day before suddenly came flooding back to her. She remembered climbing on top of the Transfer and making her way down the shaft, finding the hidden staircase, and getting mere yards away from freedom when she’d been caught by Sam and Sophia, thrown back into an inexplicable prison sentence.

  Her eyes narrowed into slits. “I don’t need anything from you,” she barked, drawing her knees to her chest, hugging them as she glared at the door. “Leave me alone.”

  “Sage,” his tone lowered in unfettered annoyance, “I’ve been generous and given you time to yourself, but if you don’t come out, I will come in.”

  “Fine!” she spat. “It’s not like I have a choice in any of this anyways!” She was way past pretending to accept her fate.

  Sam cursed under his breath. “Alright. Have it your way.” He pushed the door open. It jerked to a stop after a few inches, only revealing enough of Sam’s unmasked face to show it registering surprise. Sage smiled smugly. She’d made another short rope out of her pillowcase, tying one end to the doorknob and the other to a hook on the wall just beside the door.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said sarcastically, “I must’ve forgotten to mention my new security system. Keeps out unwanted visitors.”

  Sam’s expression went slack. He reached for something out of sight and then pulled his hand forward, brandishing a knife. It sliced through the rope easily, and the door swung open the rest of the way as he pocketed the knife. She frowned.

  He crossed his arms in the doorway. “Come on, Sage.”

  “No.”

  Rolling his eyes, he strode over to her. “Now.”

  “No.”

  As if he’d anticipated hearing that answer again, he was already reaching for her arm to pull her to her feet. She willed her limbs to go limp. She wanted to make this as difficult as possible for him.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to matter. With a short grunt, he quickly had her lifted by one of her arms, locking her into a familiar Bokja hold that she had trouble escaping. He walked her out of the bathroom on her tiptoes and shoved her in the direction of her bed.

  “Sit,” he commanded brusquely. “Eat.” He nodded toward the end of her bed where he’d set down a tray of food for her.

  Crossing her arms, she stared spitefully at him for several seconds before sitting on her bed, scooting backward until she was leaning against the wall. She didn’t even look at the food.

  “Sage, you haven’t eaten in a day. Eat.”

  Clenching her jaw, she flicked her eyes over to the tray, then looked back at Sam.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  He glared back at her. “Eat,” he growled.

  Her nostrils flared. She was through with being told what to do.

  Grabbing the bowl from the tray, she held it in the air beside her thoughtfully for a moment. “I’m.” She glared at Sam. “Not.” She flipped her hand over quickly, dumping the contents onto the bed. “Hungry.”

  His jaw twitched, but he said nothing.


  Convinced she’d gotten his attention, she squeezed her eyes shut. “Where’s your mask?”

  “There’s not much point in that anymore, is there,” he said flatly.

  “I don’t want to see your face.”

  No answer.

  She opened her eyes warily. Sam was staring at her, brows furrowed slightly.

  “Put it back on,” she insisted. When he didn’t comply right away, she grabbed her tray, launching it through the air at him. “Put it back on!” she screeched.

  He dodged to the side as the tray and all its contents flew past his head. Utensils clattered against the wall and floor, the metallic warble from the tray following immediately behind them.

  “Sage—”

  “If you won’t put it back on, just go away,” she seethed. “Go away!”

  She buried her head in her arms. Sam didn’t care about her. He wasn’t her friend. He’d made that much clear to her. His only purpose in her life was to keep watch over her and make sure she didn’t try to leave—that she only did what she was told. And she hated him more than ever.

  To her surprise, she heard the door open and close, and she let out a sigh of relief, grateful she’d been left alone.

  “I think we need to talk.”

  Sage’s head jerked up, startled by the voice she’d just heard. Sam was no longer standing in front of her. In his place was Sophia.

  15. REMEMBER

  The benefactor shifted her weight, squeezing the tips of her fingers one at a time with her other hand as she studied Sage cautiously. “May I sit with you?”

  Sage shrugged and looked away. It wasn’t like she had a choice in anything that happened here. “Would it even matter if I said no?”

  Sophia let out the breath she’d apparently been holding. Walking over to the corner, she grabbed the chair and pulled it over, setting it down in front of Sage. She eyed her uncertainly before sitting.

  “I know you have no reason to believe me, but I’m sorry for all this, Sage. I never wanted to put you through this. It wasn’t—” she stopped abruptly.

  Her eyes shot to the benefactor’s face. She looked sincere, but did that even matter? Sincerity wasn’t the same as freedom.

  “Are—are you badly hurt?” Sophia changed the subject as her gaze shifted, clearly searching for outward signs of trauma.

  Sage squirmed, crossing her arms as she pulled her legs in even farther. She gritted her teeth to hide the pain of flexing her knee. “I’m fine,” she ground out.

  A flicker of worry crossed Sophia’s face. “We didn’t think you could…” she trailed off, staring at the ground. Her eyes darted up again. “How did you…”

  Arching her eyebrow, Sage met the benefactor’s eyes in a challenge. There was no way she was going to spill her secrets and tell her how she came as close to escaping as she did. She doubted the same holes in their security still existed anyway, but she wasn’t about to help them ramp up their precautions.

  “It’s not important now,” Sophia said, her voice filled with sadness.

  Her tone made Sage’s stomach lurch with nervous anticipation.

  “What do you mean?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking.

  “Nothing.” The benefactor’s reply came too quickly. “Just that…” she hesitated. “Nothing,” she said more firmly. “You won’t be leaving this room anymore, so it doesn’t matter how you escaped the roof.”

  Sage’s nostrils flared. “So you’re leaving me caged up again? Why? Why would you want to keep me as your prisoner for the rest of my life? What’s the point in that?”

  “It won’t be for the rest of your life,” Sophia said, taken aback. “It won’t even—” her voice cracked, and she fell silent.

  Wrinkling her forehead, Sage tilted her head. Now she was curious. Sophia had sounded almost distressed that she’d expected never to leave. She decided to press harder.

  “When then? When am I leaving? And why am I even here? Sam told me this wasn’t a Cleansing, and I’m obviously not at the Institution. So why?” She snapped her jaw shut to stop her teeth from chattering. Adrenaline was coursing through her, and it was only making her appear weak and scared at the moment, neither of which she wanted to be.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m doing everything I can to ensure you’re well taken care of,” Sophia said softly, not offering any answers. “Please…”

  At this point, Sage was beyond confused. Sophia’s eyes were filling with tears, and she was pleading with Sage for understanding. None of this made any sense.

  “You were never supposed to see me, or P—Sam.” Her eyes widened as she caught herself just before outing Sam’s real name. Sage wasn’t sure why it mattered. After all, as Sophia had just pointed out, she’d seen his face now.

  “Your escape attempt… it’s made your release more complicated now.”

  Sage’s heart leapt with hope at the word release, but she buried those emotions for a moment and focused instead on irritation, narrowing her eyes at the benefactor. “Are you seriously telling me you didn’t expect me to try to run away? Or worse, you’re blaming me, telling me that I somehow did something wrong?” she fumed. “You’re sick.”

  Sophia’s face fell. She looked almost hurt.

  “No one wanted this.” The words came out as no more than a whisper.

  Sage scoffed. “Obviously, someone did, or I wouldn’t be here.”

  Lifting her eyes, Sophia studied Sage’s face. “I need you to remember something when you’re no longer here. If you could. Please,” she spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully. “Please remember how you’ve been treated.” She held up a hand to stop the raging protest that she could see bubbling under the surface. “I know what you must think of me—of us,” she gestured around the room at no one in particular. “But please remember the choices and freedoms we were able to give you. Despite the circumstances.”

  To Sage’s relief, Sophia stood and walked to the door. She wasn’t sure how much more of this conversation she’d be able to take. Everything this woman said was infuriating. As it turned out, she really was just as awful as all the other benefactors. Cold and manipulative and controlling, only caring about her own agenda—whatever that was.

  “Sage,” she paused with her hand on the doorknob, “one day very soon, you’ll be faced with a terrible decision. In the moment, it may not seem so terrible, it may even seem to be a welcome one,” her voice caught, “but it’s important to think back and remember the lessons you learned as a little girl. To remember what really matters in this life and to let that guide your decisions.”

  She looked Sage squarely in the eye. “I know you’ll do what you think is best, and you should know—even if they say otherwise—that’s all anyone can expect from you.”

  The door swung closed. Sage was alone in the room again. She sat still, blinking in confusion at where the benefactor had just been standing. What in Eprah’s name did she mean by all that?

  16. TRY, TRY AGAIN

  Three weeks.

  It had been three weeks since she’d tried to escape. Three weeks since she’d come so close to freedom, only to have it snatched away. Three weeks since she’d seen anything beyond the same boring walls of her room.

  She’d wanted to try again to escape again right away, but Sam had ensured she was locked down tighter than ever, watching her every move with suspicion—and now that he no longer wore a mask every time he visited her, she could see the mistrust written all over his face.

  Plus, her stupid knee had swollen up to double its original size, making it difficult to walk, let alone run out the door. At first, she’d tried to keep the injury hidden from Sam, but he’d caught her limping when he brought her lunch a few days after the escape attempt. Despite her initial objections to him treating it, she had to admit he had helped. And her knee healing faster really was a good thing.

  Now she was ready to try again. Ready enough, at least. Her knee hadn’t quite returned to normal, but it was good enou
gh to withstand all her aimless meandering back and forth across her room. She didn’t know why she’d been kidnapped by a psychotic benefactor, and she wasn’t willing to wait any longer to find out, even if it meant pushing her knee a bit before it was completely healed.

  Sage paced the room impatiently, waiting for Sam to come with her dinner. She slipped the bit of sharp metal into her palm. After her botched escape, he’d searched her room for anything out of place, trying to garner some clue as to how she’d managed to get as far as she had. By some stroke of luck, he never found the metal she’d used to turn her sheets into rope—probably because she was careful to return it to its place under the sink after every use.

  Her heart leapt into her throat at the sound of muffled footsteps approaching. She rushed over next to the door, pressing herself against the wall as she held her breath, hoping she was the only one who could hear the loud thumping in her chest.

  The door swung inward, and her tray came into view, followed immediately by a view of Sam’s sandy hair.

  Now!

  Sage burst forward, exploding off the ground with a strong blow to his head, catching him completely off guard. The tray and its contents clattered to the ground, shards of glass flying everywhere.

  “Sage, no!”

  Sam staggered forward, giving Sage the confidence to continue her attack. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt, jerking his shoulder down as her good knee flew up to meet his gut. She winced at the pressure it put on her other knee.

  “Ooomphf.”

  He crumpled in half, and she didn’t have any time to waste. Turning quickly, she darted for the door. But she must have misjudged Sam’s state. A sudden pain shot through her arm. She looked down, confused for a moment before realizing that Sam’s hand was clenched around it.

  Grimacing, she dropped her makeshift weapon in between the fingers of her free hand and turned back to Sam, swiping her fist across part of his arm. Her stomach turned as she saw Sam’s eyes widen with shock. They both looked at his bicep, which was quickly disappearing beneath a deep red wetness.