Cage of Secrets (Cage of Glass Trilogy Book 2)

  Cage of Secrets

  Cage of Glass Series Book II

  Genevieve Crownson

  Dreamspire Publishing

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

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  About the Author

  Also by Genevieve Crownson

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  For Lailah, my constant companion, who kept me company while writing this book.

  Chapter 1

  LUNA

  The blackness disintegrated around me. Arcs of white light flashed in circles above my head like strobes causing the pounding in my head to turn into a full-blown orchestra of pain.

  And one thing kept going around in my mind, again and again.

  I should have stayed.

  My breath caught in my throat in the stifling air, and my body dripped with sweat as I came out of the shadowy gloom. For a moment, I was convinced I was careening down from the top of a roller coaster. Then, with no warning, the ride stopped and I had no idea where I was.

  I peeled back my eyelids, but everything blurred before me. I blinked a few times in an effort to clear the white cloudy haze. As the world came into better focus, my heart lurched.

  I was trapped in a cage.

  Panicked, I attempted to lift my hands to push against what appeared to be a glass coffin, only to find them clamped down at my sides. My arms tingled with the movement like they'd been immobile for ages; my small attempt left them tired and weak. My inner elbow throbbed, and when I looked down, I noticed a golf ball-sized welt where my vein had been punctured. A million wires lay listlessly beside me in my prison, indicating I'd been on some kind of drip. But somebody had taken it out—and recently.

  I lifted my head and the world spun. I realized my body was encased in a sleeveless wet suit of sorts, nearly the same color as my skin. It pinched me, too tight. I wiggled my toes to see if my feet were free. Pins and needles shot down my feet, answering that question.

  Great. I was surrounded by four walls of glass with no way out.

  My memories of what happened returned in a flood. Zander and I had been in an alternate universe, P8, and we'd jumped into a void we’d discovered to escape. We should be free. Somewhere else.

  But we had simply traded one prison for another.

  Zander.

  Where was he? When we jumped, we'd been clutching each other's hands for dear life. I turned my head to peer through the glass, but struggled to focus on anything outside this bubble I seemed to be trapped in. I willed Zander to appear—but my efforts were fruitless. I lay back for a moment trying to gather my strength. This was not how this was supposed to go. When my mother sold me back to the government so she could live a better life, I didn't think it could get much worse.

  But it had.

  Ending up on P8 with Zander had been a gift and a curse. They hadn’t wanted us to remember, but we couldn’t forget. So we’d fought our way out. But where did we end up?

  I sighed.

  Just thinking about Zander resurrected all my confused feelings. And my bone-chilling weariness wouldn't allow me to sort through it all now.

  A noise on the other side of the room startled me, and I jerked my head up, sending me into a dizzy spiral. I closed my eyes. Stay calm, Luna, don’t freak. I took a deep breath, but it didn’t work, the thin air suffocating me. I needed to free myself soon before I passed out.

  "Damn it!"

  My eyes shot open. Who said that? A figure with a slim silhouette hovered over another identical cage on the other side of the room. Something pointed was clutched in their hand.

  A sudden stab of anxiety slammed into my gut. It was a syringe full of some type of red liquid. Whoever lay in that cage was about to get a big dose of it. That couldn't be good.

  My pulse pounded in my ears, and my nails dug into my palms. I pulled on my restraints again but barely moved. My arms and legs felt like jelly. I would bet good money, I’d been drugged.

  Had Zander tricked me—was this a trap? But then again—what if it was him in the coffin?

  I strained every muscle, edging just a hairsbreadth closer to the glass wall, allowing me to see that the mysterious figure was a boy, about the same age as me, a lanky beanstalk with long red hair that brushed his hunched shoulders. Nothing distinct stood out about him unless you counted his god awful silver one-piece jumpsuit. He would have blended in seamlessly, but he botched the job with his gawdy gold chain bracelet peeking out from under his sleeve with some kind of charm dangling from it. Amateur. Clearly.

  Why was he here? To spy? To finish the job? Or did somebody send him? The questions whirled inside my mind like a tornado. I hardly dared breathe, fearful any noise would make him turn this way.

  The boy's fingers fumbled on his com, cursing. He stared at it. "Answer," he whispered. "Come on."

  Licking my dry lips, I ignored the pain in my extremities and bore down on my restraints, never taking my eyes off the boy with the flaming red hair.

  I stopped mid-struggle as the coffin took on a life of its own, opening silently, exposing the person within.

  I gasped, blinking twice.

  Zander. I tried to scream but all that came out was a weak croak as the boy plunged the syringe into his neck. In a cascade effect, the tubing attached to Zander untethered, freeing his arm.

  I tried to yell again with all the energy I could muster. I was louder this time, but it appeared this guy couldn’t hear me. Was this some kind of strange, one-way, soundproof glass or something? Because I could certainly hear him.

  After a moment, he seemed to sense my frantic pleas and looked up sharply. He placed a finger to his lips and shook his head as if imploring me to stop.

  Before I could react, footsteps echoed in the hallway beyond the room. The boy hastily closed Zander's coffin, but not before Zander began to move—first his hands, then his head, swiveling from side to side, like he was having a bad dream.

  The redhead sprinted over to me, almost tripping en route. Definitely not a smooth operator.

  "Be still. They're coming. Please," he begged.

  Without another word he pocketed his empty syringe and grabbed the mop he must have left propped up by the door. He moved it back and forth along the sterile white tiles until he made his way to the door, disappearing before anyone suspected anything.

  The voices drew nearer. My first instinct was to yell for help, but I stopped myself. These people most likely put me in here. N
o one could be trusted. Besides if my theory was correct about the soundproof glass what good would it do? They would never hear me. A sliver of light cast a shadow on the floor as the door opened. I gritted my teeth and forced my body back into position. My eyes snapped shut.

  "I'm surprised they're not awake yet. It's a bit unusual. Did you check the monitor, Dr. Maia?" someone asked in a deep baritone.

  "Nah, I figured the longer they’re out, the less problem they'll be for us. Their brains are recalibrating back to real time."

  "Good thinking. I still can’t believe they jumped—damn kids. I was looking forward to the night off when I got called in.”

  "Tell me about it," Dr. Maia said. "I missed dinner for this. I'm starving." She paused considering. "At least we aren't these two. You couldn't pay me enough to trade places."

  The male voice echoed an agreement.

  “According to this data, it appears doubtful that participant thirty-three will recover her memories. However, participant forty appears to be trending toward a full recovery. The higher ups will want us to keep a close eye on that. It will cause a problem if he does remember.”

  "He’ll definitely have a lot of explaining to do."

  "Yeah, I don't envy that kid. He’ll be attacked at both ends. Luna is no pushover."

  They both laughed a little, and my stomach soured.

  "Let’s finish our card game. I'm feeling lucky tonight—you better be worried."

  She snorted. "Please. You always say that."

  "Let's go find out then, shall we?"

  "You're on, Dr. Neiren."

  As their footsteps moved away, I opened my eyes and took a quick glance at the man and woman exiting the room. They wore white lab coats, hairnets, and underneath, the same silver jumpsuit as the kid that had messed with Zander.

  I swallowed dryly. What did Zander need to explain to me? There had to be a mistake. I knew everything about my life. Didn’t I?

  I would find a way out of this cell and discover what cocktail that boy had plunged into Zander's bloodstream. And then I would do whatever was necessary to find out the truth.

  Because there was one thing those scientists were right about.

  I was no pushover.

  And they had no idea what they were up against.

  Chapter 2

  ZANDER

  The sound of voices pulled me out of my sleepy cocoon. Disoriented, I struggled to comprehend where I was.

  Then I remembered. Gradually, like pieces of a jigsaw glimpses of my past came in shadowy and mysterious, slowly coming together. My heart leapt as I remembered.

  Luna. P8. The void.

  My eyes flew open, tears streaming out, my world out of focus. I blinked against crusty lids, my retinas burning. I went to rub my eyes, but realized my arms were shackled.

  What was going on? I raised my head, determined to find Luna. Was she okay? The world spun and exhaustion wept into my veins like someone poured concrete into my body. I pushed back against the head rest and bit my lip in frustration.

  Come on Zander, focus. Eyes first. Then you can figure out the rest. I lay there a moment, willing my vision to clear. Finally, after an agonizing moment I could see.

  I realized I lay in a coffin of sorts, completely tied down. Had the authorities in P8 caught us as we took the leap? Surely, I would have remembered if they had. I shook my head trying to free the tangled mess of confusion from my mind, but instead the world tilted on its axis and my stomach roiled. I pushed back the nausea and forced myself to sit up as much as I was able with the shackles.

  I peered through my glass prison frantically scanning the room and my heart stopped. Memories of this place overwhelmed me. I had been here before. Memory after memory piled on top of one another like dominoes, almost in a painful succession, my brain charging into overdrive. Pain lanced through my skull and I winced. Determined, I gritted my teeth searching for Luna. Everything appeared the same. Luna and I were still being held at the original energy outpost, isolated from the others. I spotted her glass cell across the expanse but couldn’t see her. Ours were the only ones in the room. A small consolation—making for an easier escape. I inhaled deeply, turning inward and tried to sense her energy, but came up empty. It was disconcerting to me I hadn’t been able to sense her, but I really shouldn’t have expected much different. During my time in P8 some psychic abilities had appeared. I didn't fully understand my gifts, but one thing I knew for certain—they weren’t reliable. That was certainly clear now. Visions had shown up more recently, but my control over those were about zero. Whether more skills were yet to appear, I didn’t know.

  As I let my gaze wander the area, I realized that I must have memorized the grid of this place ages ago, trusting it would come in handy when the opportunity came to bust out of here with Luna. A new posting would have killed any chance of freedom. I knew I’d been missing pieces. This grid knowledge confirmed at least that much for me.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the tubes in my arms lay unused beside me. My heart leapt in hope. Had someone from the resistance already been here? I couldn’t imagine why the doctor’s in charge of this operation would wake me up…unless they planned on taking me away from here…and soon. I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat. No. That couldn’t be it. I had to focus. Stay positive. But if the resistors, specifically the protectors division designed to help us had been here where were they now?

  The voices faded before I could catch any of the conversation, followed by the sound of a door slamming shut. The subsequent hush left only the eerie bleeping of machines, echoing in the cold, sterile room.

  Perhaps the government doctors assigned to our case came to check on our progress. That would explain the half-botched break out. Still, if the searing throb on the right side of my neck was any indication, I'd been recently stabbed with a substantial needle. If I went along with my theory that the resistors had been here, they must have had enough time to dose me.

  That explained why I was awake and functioning. Without the revival drug, I wouldn't be able to move after being trapped so long in this hydraulic chamber.

  Yet something must have gone terribly wrong.

  Someone on the outside should have hacked the system, disarmed the coffin sensors, and popped this God-forsaken prison wide open.

  I wondered if one of the resistors was caught trying to free me. The evidence gave all the indicators of an abandoned mission. The protectors never left a job half done.

  Not good news.

  Luna must be freaking out. I couldn't imagine what this looked like to her. Unless...they failed to reach her in time.

  Beads of perspiration formed on my forehead as it dawned on me Luna would have to be told everything. What would she say when she found out how much I’d known this whole time?

  I took some deep breaths in an attempt to subdue my mind. I needed a plan. It wouldn't be long until the doctors returned. When they read the monitor by my bed, they would discover I was awake. Especially if the protectors didn't take my health stats offline.

  I shuddered. If they uncovered the truth in my data, what would they do to me?

  None of this had gone according to plan. But plans had a way of doing that—taking a sharp curve without permission. I learned that the hard way over these last few months. I hummed under my breath, letting the familiar notes of my favorite song wash over me. I didn't have any memory of where the tune originated, but as far back as I could remember it had always calmed me down.

  I would find a way out of this for us.

  I glanced over at Luna's cage. My vision, still a little fuzzy, could have been playing tricks on me. But I almost swore I saw a blur of movement in her closed cage.

  Luna was awake.

  I wiggled around in the cramped confines of my glass coffin, trying to gain some traction to loosen the metal at my wrists and ankles—but as I suspected, they wouldn’t budge.

  I gritted my teeth and tried one more time, the pain searing thr
ough my body like a hot knife. Nothing happened.

  That’s when I understood I had to use the clock key. There was no other way.

  Luna and I had come too far to give up. I wouldn’t let those government thugs take her—she meant too much to me—and we were too valuable to them. My mouth soured at the thought of what they would do to us if we didn't escape.

  I stretched my hand out reaching under the lining of the coffin, searching for the object hidden so long ago. “Please be there.” I muttered.

  I hit pay dirt when my fingers grasped the small, hard-grooved circular device.

  The Clock Key was still there.

  I waited a beat, listening for footsteps—relieved when the room stayed silent. I quickly placed the brass medallion up to the glass, contorting my hand against my bindings, to allow the heat from my palm to ignite the biochip within. My energy, weak from being siphoned for fuel for God knows how long, was slow to react, but I willed myself to sense the familiar hum of the device under my skin.

  As the warmth built, the power flowed through my palms onto the glass, using me as a conduit, entering through the surface of the cage, down the seams and into the restraints. With a small, glowing light everything burst apart. The manacles on my ankles popped first, next my wrists, freeing them from their contorted agony. Finally, the best sound of all hit my ears as the coffin released. My shoulders relaxed, so far so good.