Page 126 of Kept

I lift up my arms obediently when Ryder dresses me.

I lay there listlessly as Enzo runs a washcloth over my arms, his hands gentle.

“Do you see them?” I ask tonelessly one day, and he pauses, turning to look at me. It’s an effort to move my head.

His eyes are a void. No stars today.

“See what, little prey?”

“The statues.” My throat scratches, and I don’t say anything else.

They’re everywhere. In every corner of every room, staring at me. I sleep more to try and escape them, but they follow me into my dreams, grabbing at me with hard hands and dragging me until I’m trapped, nothing but a statue myself.

I wake to the sound of my own screams, Maverick wrapped around me, his ragged breathing chasing away the ghosts around us. “Zella,” he begs.

I don’t know how to stop seeing them.

Another day, I turn to Ryder. He’s sitting beside me, pretending to watch the film I haven’t looked at while his eyes linger on me.

“They won’t go away,” I whisper. My voice cracks.

“Who won’t, little thief?” His voice is gentle, but it sounds exhausted, too.

“Dante. Psyche. Cupid.” I take a breath, but no air fills my lungs. “My mother.”

He frowns. “Your mother?”

I nod.

“He made them into statues,” I murmur. “They were my friends, and I didn’t realize.”

Ryder looks at me, and whatever he sees makes his skin turn almost as pale as theirs.

“I would have done something,” I whisper. I’m talking to the statue in the corner, her wings spread out behind her. She watches me, judgment in her face. “If I had known. I would have done something.”

“Little thief,” Ryder says quietly. His voice breaks. “There’s nobody there, baby.”

But there is. And they’re judging me.

I don’t blame them at all.

***

“Tell me about the statues,” Maverick says. I blink, looking up from my plate.

In the corner, Maria watches me. Dante is right behind Maverick.

“Are they here right now?” he presses. I nod.

“They’re always here,” I say softly.

A hand grips the back of my neck, and I look at Enzo.

“What do they want?” he demands. I slide my eyes away, looking down again.

I don’t know the answer.

50 - Ryder

---