Page 106 of Kept

I wonder what they’d think of us. We’re not the same, but a lot of people see the world as purely black and white. Normally the people who are privileged enough to not need to think about it any more than that.

I nod in response to Enzo’s words. “We still need to find him.”

Zella needs answers, and I’m determined to find them for her. Not to mention Moore’s taste for violence against young girls.

Enzo is grinning when I look at him. It’s not a smile I’d want to be faced with. It’s the smile of a predator on the hunt.

“We’ll find him,” he says in a low tone, sweeping past me. “Have faith.”

I swipe a hand down my face, wondering if the circles under my eyes are as deep as they feel. Exhaustion weighs me down as I follow them to the truck. Ryder slides into the driver’s seat, and I seize the opportunity to settle next to Zella. Enzo positions himself on her other side.

She glances at the window, chewing her lip. It’s the most natural thing in the world to lift her, to pull her onto my lap, and she presses her lips to my cheek in thanks before she leans forward, lowering the window so she can look out.

Enzo gives me a disgruntled look. Lazily, I play with the end of Zella’s braid.

“Have you ever thought about cutting it?” I ask, and she turns to me with a slight frown.

“Often,” she admits. “Ethan was always so focused on it, though. He would never have allowed it.”

“But you’re not with him anymore, prey.” Enzo’s voice is low. “So what do you want to do?”

She pulls the braid into her lap. I have to admire Ryder’s craftsmanship. He’s woven little flowers from the garden all the way down. She looks like a modern-day fairy princess in her blue dress as she fiddles with it, her lips twisting into a wry smile.

“It sounds stupid,” she says with a wry smile. “But it feels like part of me. And everything’s changed so much… I do want to cut it, eventually. It’s not practical to have hair like this. Just… not now?”

“It’s your choice,” I say firmly, closing my hand over her hip. “It’ll be busy tonight. Stay close to us.”

I’m a little concerned about taking her somewhere so busy. The annual street festival is a chaotic event, and even at the nightclub, we were separated from the crowds.

As soon as we manage to find a space in one of the side streets, I take her hand in mine. Ryder and Enzo fall into step behind us, scanning the crowd as we reach the busier main street.

It gives me the breathing space to watch her. I want to see her face.

Worth it.

Her lips part as we merge with the crowd, the three of us spreading out in an attempt to prevent her from being jostled. All around us, people spin and twirl and dance to the beat of the drum music from a local group up ahead. Everyone is dressed to impress, with costumes ranging from animals to mythology. The crowd splits, merging around a street performer acting as Medusa. She twists to look at us, a small smile twisting her lips as snakes hiss, dozens of them coiled around her. Zella takes a step back, bumping into me, and I steady her with my hands on her waist.

When she reaches out a hand, I snag it hastily. “Careful. They might bite.”

She turns to me with wide eyes as we pass. “She had snakes on her head!”

Her wonder only grows as we explore. Any initial uncertainty about the crowds soon drains away, and soon we’re focusing on keeping up with her as she dashes from stall to stall, laughing at the many performers, gaping at the dancers on stilts who move slowly through the teeming mass of people. All around us, music and laughter ring out, and our arms slowly fill with packages. Not all of them paid for.

“Ryder,” I hiss. He gives me an angelic look as he swipes a cake from a stall, handing it to Zella with a charming grin as she squeals over the intricate decoration. I glare at him until he rolls his eyes, holding up a wad of cash and pulling a note out, handing it over to the bemused stall owner.

“Consider me reformed,” he says, sauntering over to me as Enzo practically curves himself over Zella. She pushes the cupcake into his face, and he blinks. Yellow frosting drips off his nose, and both Ryder and I can’t hide our snickers as he levels us with a glare.

Doesn’t stop him tasting it, though.

“Excellent choice,” Ryder acknowledges. “She loves it, Mav.”

My answering smile is smug as fuck. Because Zella is almost incandescent with joy, her face lighting up at each new experience as she tries to take in as much as possible.

When we reach a courtyard, she darts forward, stumbling to a stop as she takes in the dancers. “Oh,” she breathes. Above us, dozens and dozens of lanterns string from light to light, casting everything in a warm golden glow. Fiddles start up next to us, and she spins in place as people start to move onto the cobbles, partners embracing each other as they spin across the stones to the lively folk music. When the singers begin, the folk music filling the space, I step forward and offer her my hand.

“Dance with me, Zella,” I urge, and she stares at me, desire warring with indecision on her face.

“In front of all these people? I don’t know how!”

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