Page 19 of Kept

Tossing the barely touched cigarette I'm holding as a decoy, I pull out my phone and shoot a text to Mav.

Mission successful. Also, need bleach to wash my eyeballs.

His reply comes a moment later.

You needed that years ago.

Fair. Very fair. But something prickles across my shoulders as I glance back towards the dark doors of Club X. I don’t want to leave those people there.

But I’m also not a one-man army and they have a fuckload of security, so I turn away reluctantly, heading back towards the pretty bike that I might’ve liberated,again.

Not a job for tonight. One day, Enzo will have a lot more people in his dungeon.

But it’ll still never be enough

9 – Zella

I’mnotsurehowlong I stay there for.

Maybe hours.

Maybe days.

And then Ethan is there. His voice burrows into my head, his frantic words blurring against each other until clarity returns in a blinding bolt of pain.

My head spins to the side, and I blink, turning back to look at him.

He’s flexing his gloved hand, his face dark as his eyes scan mine.

“Zella – sweetheart,” he murmurs. His brow is damp with sweat, his hair more unkempt than I’ve ever seen it as he stares at me. “I need you to get off the floor. It’s dirty.”

My eyes feel heavy. My heart feels heavier. “You took my windows.”

Ethan presses his lips together. “They were a distraction, Zella.”

It takes effort, but I turn my head to look slowly around the apartment. “Distraction from what?”

Ethan smiles, but it doesn’t look real. It looks tight, and awkward. “From being who you need to be. Get up, now. I have a gift for you.”

He stands up, staring down as I struggle to my feet. My legs feel numb, a prickling, burning pain spreading across them as they come back to life. Raising shaky fingers to my face, I trace the hot patch. “You hit me.”

Ethan closes his fingers into a fist. “I was scared, sweetheart. You weren’t responding to me. I’m sorry.”

I stare at him. He’s never touched me… but he slapped me. Even if he had his gloves on, it’s the most contact I’ve ever had with him.

And ithurt.

My whole body hurts as I silently sit on the stool he pushes out with his foot. His eyes flick over my dress, his face pressing into a fleeting frown, but he doesn’t mention it. I look down at the rusty spots marring the pristine white.

“Don’t worry,” he says quietly. “You have more. I’ll burn that one.”

I’m so tired, I don’t think before the words come out. “I wasn’t worried.”

His face twists, but he ignores my words, turning to a trolley by the door. “Look.”

I take it in dully. “A new statue.”

“Yes!” His previous ire all but forgotten, he rocks back on his heels with a bright smile. “It’s been a while, I know. We’ll need to be careful, the plaster is still drying out – but I couldn’t let her go, not once I saw her.”

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