Page 105 of Kept

He says this over his shoulder, and Ryder yelps. When I turn to look, he’s rubbing the back of his head. Maverick is walking behind him, his face expressionless, but he winks at me.

Enzo doesn’t cover my eyes this time, but he turns to look at me as he pushes open a set of wooden double doors with stained glass windows. I haven’t been in this room before, and my breathing stops altogether as I walk in and stop dead.

There’s so much light in this room. The sun beams in through the floor to ceiling windows that surround us, highlighting the easels set up in different spaces across the room. Each easel holds an empty canvas. Across from me is an empty space with shiny flooring, and I cross it as I move to the far wall. Dark wooden shelves are stacked with various items, and my hand shakes as I pick one up, turning it over in my hands. Oils.

Behind me, Maverick clears his throat. “We tried to get as much as we could, but if there’s something missing, we can get that too.”

My eyes lift up, taking in the sheer number of art materials in front of me. Some of them I don’t even recognise.

“You made this for me?” I ask softly. “All of this… is mine?”

“All yours, little prey,” Enzo murmurs. When I turn to him, he’s half-smiling, this tiny movement that transforms his entire face into something gentler. “The space in the middle is for sculpting, if you wanted to do that.”

The lump inside my throat gets bigger, cutting off my thoughts before I can even voice them.

They made me my own art studio.

“No tears,” Enzo says immediately when the first one falls down my cheek. His hands are there, wiping them away as he frowns down at me. “I don’t like them.”

“Happy tears,” I assure him in a choked-up voice, and he makes a look of disgust.

“Happy tears,” he mutters. “That’s a first.”

“Stop.” With a half-laugh, I bury my face in his chest, breathing him in. “I love it, Enzo. Thank you.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his arms close around me.

39 - Maverick

We’reallwaitinginthe hall when Zella comes bouncing down the stairs.

“I’m ready!” she announces brightly. “Does this look okay?”

When I turn, my automaticyescatches in my throat. Ryder chokes, his usual charm deserting him. For once, it’s Enzo who steps up. Dressed in his usual black clothing, they look like night and day next to each other.

“Prey,” he breathes. “You look edible.”

She beams at him, and I finally pull my head out of my ass, moving to her side. “I agree,” I murmur, and she turns to grin at me.

“It’s not too bright?”

“Absolutely not,” I assure her. Ryder’s cough sounds suspiciously like a laugh, but he steps up alongside me. Zella smooths her hands down her vibrant metallic blue strappy dress, pointing to the little black heeled boots on her feet.

“Do these shoes work?” she asks Ryder, and he gives her a thumbs up.

“You look perfect, princess,” he reassures her. “Excited?”

She bounces on her feet. “I can’t wait. I’ve been looking forward to this for days.”

Guilt swamps me at the enthusiasm in her voice. I know she wants to get out, to see more of the world that’s been hidden from her for so long, but I’m not convinced that Ethan Moore isn’t going to slither out of the cracks like the snake he is.

Nobody puts that much effort into stealing a child and keeping her locked away for so many years, only to give up.

Ryder escorts Zella past us, and my chest tugs at her delighted laugh as he pulls the door to the garage open with a sweeping bow. Enzo pauses next to me.

“His dominoes are crashing down,” he murmurs. “We need to watch, but I doubt he’s focused on her now.”

Not with his whole life crumbling in ruins. The videos I handed over to John Martinez have mysteriously found their way into the hands of the royalty of the art world. Ethan Moore, renowned art collector and respected businessman, is done, the depravity in the videos enough to condemn him in the eyes of his peers.

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