Caged Inmates Novels & Stories

Most looked relieved the criminal was being removed. That was three hours ago. Now I'm in a transport van heading to the Cage. The prison's in North London, underground. I can't see where we're going. The van has no windows in the back. There are four other prisoners with me. All werewolves. All convicted of various crimes. None of them are talking. The van stops. Doors open. Guards drag us out into a loading area beneath a warehouse. Everything's concrete and steel. Industrial. Cold. "Welcome to the Cage," one guard says. Vampire, ancient, bored-sounding. "You're here for rehabilitation. Follow the rules, you might survive. Break them, you definitely won't."

On the brackets were seven iron cages in the shape of eggs. Seven people were curled up and kneeling in the iron cages. However, the size of the iron cages was different. The larger people’s iron cages were larger, and the smaller people’s iron cages were smaller because the iron cages were custom-made. They all seemed to have been cramped inside. It didn’t look like there was much space for each of them. Suddenly, the seven criminals woke up. They were struggling to get out of the cage, but it was impossible. It wasn’t something that could be broken by merely human strength.

They exchange a few words of encouragement, reaffirming their readiness to face their visitors. As they approach the teardrop cage suspended from the ceiling, the clan of chains echoes through the chamber, signaling the end of recreation time. The doors smoothly slide shut, enclosing the other inmates in their cells. The guard unlocks the cage door, motioning for Joe and Bryan to enter before securing it once again.

“It’s dangerous out here right now. Let me take Alex to the tower. He’ll be safer there.” Delmar clenched his fists. Taking a deep breath as he quickly gathered his thoughts, he shook his head. “No,” he responded bluntly. “Put him in a cage.” Just then, the arguing ceased immediately as the Ravennites all turned heads toward their leader. Alex felt as though a sense of betrayal had entered his heart. The Ravennites did not have a prison established in the Citadel. The only thing they had was a small series of cells dug underneath the bottommost level of the tower, which they called cages. Alex had never seen them himself, but he knew they were reserved for the most dangerous of their enemies

Emma sat on the edge of her bed, gripping the sheets so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her mind was spinning, her chest feeling heavier with every breath she took. Caleb was dead. She had overheard the guards whispering about it outside her room. The news had hit her like a punch in the stomach. He had been alive yesterday, angry and desperate to escape, and now… just gone. Her hands trembled as she clutched the pillow in her lap.

At the end of the hall stands a steel door reinforced with horizontal bars, which one of the guards opens without a word. The door gives way to a hall of prison like cages, walls separating the people inside from their neighbors. It’s in one of these rooms that my captor carries me. There aren’t any windows, just bare floor and concrete walls. One light flickers in the center, and a metal bed screwed into the floor holds a thin mattress. My stomach drops, and suddenly I can’t breathe. “No… no. Please, you can’t—” Anxiety takes over, and I thrash weakly in his arms. I can’t be locked in a cage again. But his arms are unrelenting.

The smell of blood hit me before I saw him. Elias sat slumped in a chair, his head hanging, a dark red drip sliding from his split lip to the dusty floor. His shirt was torn, his left eye swollen shut. Two men stood on either side of him like shadows, their hands resting on the handles of their knives—not because they needed to use them, but to remind me they could. “Your brother’s luck ran out,” one of them said. His voice was deep, cold. “Seventy-two hours. That’s all you get.”

"You've become so cold and heartless. You'd better pray Ian pulls through, or you'll be prepared to feel guilty for the rest of your life." His words were like a pair of hands crushing my heart. My heart ached. He was right—those five years in prison had hardened me. But could I afford not to harden? Prison turned people into demons. Those who were soft-hearted were prey. When I first arrived, my small frame made me a target: beaten, humiliated, forced to kneel, my palms burned by cigarette butts, my legs broken by rebar. Covered in wounds, I was still forbidden to eat. I had to satisfy the twisted demands of certain big guys in there. I lived like a dog in a world without daylight. Any resi