The sound of high heels in the hallway grew loud, and I crouched in relief. I recognized the cadence. Apparently so did Jonathan, as he straightened and took a step back. Sara Jane strode into the office without her usual knock. “Oh!” she exclaimed softly, her hand going to the collar of the new business suit she had bought yesterday. Trent paid his employees in advance. “Jon. I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone would still be here.” There was an awkward silence. “I was going to give Angel the leftovers from my lunch before I ran my errands.”

Jonathan looked down his nose at her. “I’ll do it for you.”

Oh please, no, I thought. He’d probably dip them in ink first, if he did at all. The leftovers from Sara Jane’s lunches were the only thing I’d eat, and I was half starved.

“Thank you, but no,” she said, and I sank to a relieved crouch. “I’ll lock up Mr. Kalamack’s office if you want to go.”

Yes, leave, I thought, my pulse racing. Go so I can try to tell Sara Jane I’m a person. I’d been trying all day, but the one time I attempted it when Trent had been watching, Jonathan “accidentally” knocked my cage so hard it fell over.

“I’m waiting for Mr. Kalamack,” Jonathan said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to give them to her?” A smug look crossed his usually stoic face as he moved behind Trent’s desk and pretended to tidy it. My hope that he would leave vanished. He knew better.

Sara Jane crouched to bring her eyes level with mine. I thought they were blue, but I couldn’t be sure. “No. It won’t take long. Is Mr. Kalamack working through lunch?” she asked.

“No. He just asked me to wait.”

I crept forward at the smell of carrots. “Here, Angel,” the small woman said, her high voice soothing as she opened a fold of napkin. “It’s just carrots today. They were out of celery.”

I glanced at Jonathan suspiciously. He was checking the sharpness of the pencils in Trent’s pencil cup, so I cautiously reached for the carrot. There was a sharp bang, and I jumped.

A smirk quirked the corners of Jonathan’s thin lips. He had dropped a file on the desk. Sara Jane’s look was wrathful enough to curdle milk. “Just stop it,” she said indignantly. “You’ve been pestering her all day.” Lips pursed, she pushed the carrots through the mesh. “Here you go, sweetie,” she soothed. “Take your carrots. Don’t you like your pellets?” She dropped the carrots and left her fingers poking through the mesh.

I sniffed them, allowing her cracked and work-worn nails to brush the top of my head. I trusted Sara Jane, and my trust didn’t come easily. I think it was because we were both trapped, and we both realized it. That she knew about Trent’s biodrug dealings seemed unlikely, but she was too smart to not be worried about how her predecessor died. Trent was going to use her as he had Yolin Bates, leaving her dead in an alley somewhere.