Page 127 of Kept

Ijerkawake,myhand moving automatically to the spot where Zella should be.

It’s cold.

Awareness is immediate, and I swing my legs out of bed with a curse. The sound of running water comes from the bathroom, and I pull the door open, dread swarming me.

My heart constricts. “Little thief. What are you doing?”

Zella’s eyes flick to mine in the steamed mirror. “It has to go,” she rasps.

She savagely yanks another piece of hair. Tears track down her face, and I dart to the shower, turning off the hot water.

“Little thief. Princess.” I try to stop her, but she pulls away from me, ripping more hair out of her head.

She’s breaking my fucking heart. At this point she’s more hair than anything else, her cheeks sunken. She’s a walking shell of the Zella we knew before.

“Stop,” I say firmly. I cover her hands with mine, and she struggles, a sob breaking free from her chest as she weakly tries to pull away. When I don’t let go, she collapses into me, her tears soaking my chest. Carefully, I cradle my arms around her.

“Please,” I beg. I’ll pray to whoever the hell I need to tohelpher. “Talk to me, little thief. What’s going on?”

“I can’t look at it anymore,” she sobs, and as much as my heart breaks, it lifts, too. Because she sounds normal, not the zombie-fied Zella that flinches at shadows and weeps in her sleep.

“Okay,” I breathe. “You want it cut, we’ll cut it.”

I coax her out of the bathroom, and Maverick jerks awake in his chair. Enzo watches us, his eyes hooded, as I sit her down on the bed. She buries her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking and her hair loose around her face.

“Get me scissors,” I say over my shoulder, meeting Maverick’s eyes. He hesitates, but comes back with a pair in his hands.

51 - Zella

Ineeditgone.

It hangs heavy on my shoulders, like a shroud, and I can’t bear it for a second longer.

I try to pull more out, and hands capture my wrists, holding me.

“Stop, prey,” Enzo says firmly. “We’re going to cut it, but I need you to stay still. Breathe with me.”

I take shuddering, gasping breaths, and for the first time in weeks, I feel my lungs fill as Ryder carefully snips away at my hair. Strand by strand, the strangling weight falls away, and my face crumples in relief.

I can breathe.

Staring at Enzo, I see the purple bruising under his eyes. They all look so tired, and guilt hits me hard. They look like this because of me.

He watches my face carefully. “You with me, little prey?”

I nod, and Ryder clicks his tongue. “Stay still, princess. I’m no hairdresser, but I’m trying.”

“I don’t care.” My throat feels raw, and I cough. Maverick hands me a glass of water, and I gulp it down gratefully, holding it out for more.

His hand brushes my cheek as he hands me another. “There you are,” he says quietly.

I don’t think he means the water.

I sip this glass more carefully, taking my time. My hands grip it tightly as more hair falls around me, and Maverick gathers up the strands.

“How do you get rid of hair?” I ask absently, staring at it. Ryder pauses.

“Donate it,” he suggests. “There are charities.”

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