Page 64 of Deadmen's Captive

"Every week?" I stood up and made my way to the small refrigerator tucked under a cluttered countertop.

“Wait!” she said, but I’d already pulled open the door. The contents took me aback. Neatly arranged pre measured meals sat in stark contrast to the near emptiness of the rest of the space. Each packet was labelled with precise calorie counts and protein measurements.

"Do you have specific dietary requirements I don’t know about?" I asked, not looking away from the clinical display before me. “Because you didn’t put that on your application form.”

“Considering I never filled in the form, that's not surprising,” she said dryly. “And, no. I don’t.”

I closed the door and stood back up. “So why the strict diet?”

She shrugged, not meeting my eyes. “I need to stay in shape.”

I sat back down on the bed. “You’re hardly overweight, Paige. You might even be underweight.'' I sighed. “Look, I don’t want to pry, but if you agree to be our Persephone, it’s my job to take care of you, so if you have any health issues I need to be aware of, or maybe a history of an eating disorder…”

Paige looked up, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t have health issues, or an eating disorder, Bast, it’s just, my mother wants me to keep my figure. No guy worth having wants a fat girl,” she said in a whiny voice, clearly mocking her mother.

I frowned. “Well, that’s not true for starters. A person’s weight is no indication of whether they are the right person for someone. And why does your mother have any say in your diet?”

Paige laughed, but it was a cold one. “It’s a part of her plan. Make sure I’m attractive enough for some rich guy to want as a wife.”

"An attractive wife." The words felt sour as they rolled off my tongue.

"Yeah. It’s my mission in life. Marry well, restore the family name."

“I see.” And I did. More than Paige did, probably. "At twenty-one?"

She shrugged. "Mother's orders," she muttered. "She’s... particular. Thinks a 'suitable match' is essential."

"Essential for what? A life sentence?" The harshness in my tone made Paige cringe.

"Something like that." Paige sighed. “It's always been about securing the future she imagined for me, not the one I want."

"Which is?" I pressed, driven by a need to peel back the layers she wrapped tightly around herself.

"Freedom," she whispered, so soft I could barely catch it. "To paint, to explore, to breathe without feeling caged."

"Doesn't sound too much to ask for," I said, the words thick in my throat. She laughed, but there was no humour in it—just the sharp edge of something broken.

"To her, it's complete betrayal. I had to fight just to be able to study art. She didn’t think it was impressive enough."

“You’re a talented artist, Paige. That's impressive.”

She smiled at me. “How do you know? You’ve never seen my work.”

“I have.” I didn’t explain how I’d seen it, bribing a security guard to let me into the art department one night just after her induction into the club. I wanted to know the real Paige, what went on inside her mind, and her art was her mind on canvas.

“Anyway, that’s why I have those meals, and why I work out so much.”

“What happens if you don’t make a good marriage match?” I asked.

“Shame, humiliation… letting my family down. It’s why I was so happy to get into Blackvellyn.”

I raised my eyebrows. “To find a husband? Is that why you were dating Tristan?”

Paige sighed. “I like Tristan a lot, but no. He's not exactly marriage material with his reputation, is he? My mother wanted me to date him to get closer to other potential guys from the right kind of family.”

“So you did.” My tone grew colder. It would appear our sweet Paige was more calculating than we’d all thought.

“Kind of, but I don’t intend to marry anyone, Bast.” She reached out, laying her hand on my arm, as though she was trying to convince me. “I just need to get through this year. Once I graduate with my masters, I have the chance to enter the student showcase at the end of the year. All the elite gallery owners come and view the work, and artists can get life changing offers. I just need the chance, Bast. Dating Tristan, it keeps my mother happy. If she thinks I'm not doing what she wants, she won’t see any point in paying to keep me here, and my chance will be gone.”

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