Page 28 of Kept

My heart pounds. I’m leaving.

I’m getting out of here.

I take a step back, and Enzo keeps staring at me, that handsome face empty enough that he fits right in amongst the statues.

Or he would, if it wasn’t for the burning in his eyes. He watches me move backwards, my fingers feeling for the handle. The chain jingles, and I glance down. “The chain—,”

“We’ll take it off,” he says shortly. Then he tilts his head. “For now, at least.”

Swallowing, I duck inside my bedroom, not responding to his words as I push the door closed as much as I can with the chain in the way. My breathing feels choppy, loud in the quiet space, and I force it back as I press my ear to the door.

Nothing. I can’t hear anything.

I peek through the gap, and the squeal that escapes my throat could probably shatter glass. Enzo’s dark, burning eyes areright there, staring back at me, and I jump back as Ryder calls out cheerfully.

“Don’t mind him! He doesn’t get out much.”

Swallowing, I back away from the door.

Clearly.

12 – Enzo

Ryder yanks me away from the door, his hand gripping my shoulder as the girl skitters backwards with a startled yelp.

“Will you stop?” he hisses. “She’s going to think we’re serial killers.”

“I am a serial killer,” I point out, and he throws up his hands.

“You know what I mean.”

Not really, but I step away from the door. My feet sound loud in the silence of the vast space, and I decide to do a little digging into our new houseguest.

Ryder is already digging into the cupboards in the kitchen, investigating the contents of the refrigerator with a disgusted sigh.

“Not a bag of chips in sight,” he mutters. “No wonder she’s so small.”

My fingers flex, remembering the frailty of her small wrist under my grip. I could have broken it so easily, just by squeezing.

I pause in front of a statue, taking in the petrified look on its face. Hardly one for a museum. Ryder stands next to me, and he leans in to get a closer look.

“What?” I ask. His face is creased in a frown.

“Nothing… doesn't matter.”

Shaking his head, he turns to me and tips his head in the direction of the bedroom. I can hear little rustling sounds, like a mouse is scurrying around inside.

Little prey.

That’s exactly what she looked like, when I lifted her up and pressed her into the counter. All wide green eyes, plump pink lips andhair.

So much fucking hair. It almost drowns her, the blonde so light it’s nearly white.

“So,” Ry whispers loudly. “On a scale of one to seventeen hundred, how pissed is Maverick going to be?”

I give him a dead stare. “With you? Off the scale.”

He actually pouts at me. “Unfair. What are we supposed to do, leave her here?”

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