Page 33 of Kept

We’ve fought too hard to let him slip away now.

The glass smashes into the floor as I spin and head out of the lounge. Ryder follows me as I stride to the door covering the inside entrance to the dungeon, the one we rarely use.

“She’s fine. He won’t hurt her, Mav.”

Fuck, I hope that’s true.

14 - Zella

Awareness slowly crawls into my consciousness.

I feel full of cotton wool and candy floss, like the sweet fluff Ethan brought me once, before he took it away in case I rotted my teeth.

That’s what’s inside my head.

Drowsily, I roll my face from side to side, attempting to shake it off. Maybe I’m getting sick. It doesn’t happen often, but the last time, I thought I was on fire.

I don’t feel that way now though. In fact, I almost feel cold. The cool brush of air against my skin makes me shiver.

I pause. I shouldn’t feel air.

And the bed – it’s too hard. Solid and cool against my back.

I force my eyes open, blinking lazily before my sight sharpens into terrifyingly clear focus.

Because this isn’t my bedroom.

Clarity returns like a slap to the face. In a rush, I remember. My windows. The chain, cold metal against my ankle. And… the break in.

Ryder and Enzo.

I swallow, but there’s a desert in my throat, and I cough.

A hand slides around the back of my neck, lifting me up as the kiss of cool water touches my lips and I drink it down desperately before it’s taken away too soon.

“More,” I rasp. Blearily, I turn my aching head and flinch.

Enzo leans over me, his mouth the barest inch away from my face. Those black eyes bore into me as a shocked sound erupts from my still-dry throat.

Trying to calm my racing heart, I nod at him. “Hello.”

When he doesn’t respond, I tilt my head to look around. Disappointment hits me hard in the chest at the steel walls, the bright lighting above me making me squint and driving the lingering ache in my head. Wherever I am, there are no windows here either.

Oh, Zella. You might’ve messed up here.

“Too bright,” I choke. The lights dim instantly, and I let out a breath as I continue my assessment.

I’m lying on some sort of hard table. It feels cool against my fingertips, and I twitch them experimentally, surprised when they move without restriction. Fingers encircle my wrist, and I glance up at Enzo with a swallow.

This is his space. I can feel it in the way he watches me, intense but relaxed. Not like in the apartment, where every movement set him on edge.

Here, he feels comfortable. His presence fills the room, almost visible in its overwhelming feel.

And I… do not feel particularly comfortable.

“I thought you weren’t going to chop me up,” I mutter, and dark brows pull down into a frown. He stares like he’s waiting for something. “What?”

He blinks, something like confusion swirling in his gaze. “Aren’t you wondering where you are?”

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