Page 160 of Caged

Fates, I’m so stupid.

All of this was planned. They aren’t going to ask for my side. They aren’t planning to ask me any questions at all, let alone let me explain what happened.

No one here is actually interested in the truth.

They already decided I am guilty. I don’t know when, and I don’t know why, but they’ve already made up their minds about me.

These men—these Bastards—are judge, jury, and executioner, wrapped up in brotherhood. Tied with a pretty bow made of vengeance.

Gods, I’m so naive. So stupid for not realizing it faster.

Of course, there’s a reason no one came to speak to me. Of course, there’s a reason why this Beta is treating me like trash.

Nothing I say matters. Nothing. Not even the absolute truth burning on a pyre of pretty, painful words will make a difference to how they see me.

“When was your last heat?”

The question is an ice-cold bucket of water on top of my blazing spiral of anxiety. I open my mouth to reply and cough, choking on my words.

“I’m sorry, what⁠—”

“It’s not a difficult question. When was the last time you had a heat cycle? I assume your father brought in human Alphas to help you through it?”

Heat rushes to my face. I feel it climbing up my chest and crawling over my neck to settle in my cheeks. This has to be the most invasive question a stranger has ever asked me.

I don’t know what to say. Do I tell her the truth? What does it matter? What does this have to do with anything?

She’s staring at me again, studying me with that curious expression that makes me feel like a science experiment.

She raises a brow, expectant.

“I’ve never had a heat,” I admit.

The Doctor stills. Her pen hovers in the air, suspended over the paperwork attached to her chart. Her hard eyes flare with disbelief.

“Never? How old are you?”

I hesitate. Is there a right answer here? I don’t know. I don’t know anything. My mother died before I could ask her many questions, and it’s not like Father was forthcoming about my designation. I don’t know what’s normal and what’s not.

“I’m twenty-two.”

Her brows raise to her hairline.

“That’s highly unusual.”

The cell door swings open, and I tense. I don’t want someone else to come in here. I don’t want to be judged and accused and shamed any more than I already have been. The Beta keeps talking, but I don’t hear a word she says.

A male I’ve never seen before glide into the cell on silent feet, leaning his large, muscular body against the wall. There’s something about him that has my Omega alert. He doesn’t look at me, but his presence presses in on me, like he’s stealing all the available oxygen in the room.

“You’re rather underweight.” The words register, forcing my eyes away from the male and back on the Beta, who’s tapping her pen furiously against her chin. “Still, that shouldn’t have kept you from having a heat in the last eight years.”

The Alpha speaks, his tone lazy with indifference. “She’s been on heavy suppressants, Lenora.”

I frown. The Beta Doctor—Lenora—turns to the Alpha and frowns.

“How would you possibly know that, Daxen?”

Something feels wrong. This male has me instantly wary. The way he looks at me. His knowledge of intimate details about my health…