Page 84 of Kept

“Run now,” he says quietly, looking away. “And decide if this is something you can live with.”

My head feels too full. “I thought—,” His laugh is dark and rich. “You don’t get a choice? But you do. You can come to me by choice. Or you can try to get away, but I will chase you, prey. That’s the only choice I’m willing to give you, and I’m only giving it once.”

He nods towards the stairs. “Go.”

My legs feel unsteady underneath me as I move past him, his gaze heated on my back as I start up the stairs. By the time I hit the door at the top, I’m running, the little breath left in my lungs burning as I race into the main house and up to my room, slamming the door behind me and backing up as though he’ll make good on his promise right now and burst through the door, ready to drag me back downstairs to his table.

The room feels too small, and my fingers fumble at the latch as I yank the little door open, breathing in the fresh air.

As the shaking in my limbs starts to subside, I pull in a great, shuddering breath.

The evening air is peaceful, the leaves from the trees rustling softly and the scent of autumn in the air. While below me, a man lies on a table with his skin carved apart, careful slices reducing him to nothing more than meat.

I retch over the railing, my dinner threatening to make a reappearance as I force it back down.

My skin feels too hot, but my hands feel ice cold as I press them to my burning cheeks. Enzo’s words play on a loop inside my head, and something Maverick said comes back to me, in his deep, reassuring voice.

Good people deserve good things, and bad people deserve everything bad.

When my stomach stops swirling, I slowly step away from the window.

30 – Maverick

Tippingmyfaceupinto the shower spray, I let the heat of the water wash away the filth I feel after a day spent working on identifying the exact locations of John Miller’s victims.

The heaviness continues to press down on my shoulders as I turn it off, reaching for a towel and wrapping it around my waist as I head back into the bedroom.

As tired as I feel, my body still feels too wired to sleep. I’m very aware of the fact that Enzo is working out his demons on John downstairs right now, whilst Zella is sleeping, blissfully unaware of the torture taking place right under her nose.

Ryder pokes his head around the door, coming in when he sees me sat on the edge of my bed. “You too?”

I nod. We both feel it, when the end of a case like this one draws near. We know what we have to do. “You want to go tonight? Get it over with?”

“Yeah.” He sighs heavily, taking a seat next to me. “What about Zella? I don’t want to leave her on her own.”

I frown into my hands. It’s a good point. Enzo is not someone to be reasoned with when he’s in this mood. We’ll be lucky if we see him anytime in the next two days.

A creak on the floorboards outside pulls me from my thoughts, and Ryder and I pause as Zella appears in the open doorway. “Sweetheart?”

It takes me a bare moment to notice the shivers racking her frame. She’s shaking violently, and as I jump up and move towards her, I notice the paleness of her skin.

Ryder is close behind as I take her hand and gently draw her inside. I nudge her to sit on the end of the bed and she folds her fingers in her lap, her eyes darting everywhere like a wild animal.

A thought occurs to me, and I share a look with Ryder. Comprehension dawns on his face, and he drops down, putting his hands on her knees and rubbing them as though her skin is cold to the touch.

“Princess,” he coaxes softly. “What’s the matter?”

But it’s me she searches out when she looks up. “I didn’t… I didn’t realize.”

She wets her lips with the tip of her tongue. “You told me not to go downstairs.”

Fuck. Icy fingers wrap around my heart as I kneel next to Ryder. Her eyes look dazed, her forehead clammy when I press my fingers against it.

“I should have listened,” she whispers. “Why didn’t I listen?”

My lips press together. I know exactly what she would have seen. “Zella, listen to me. That man downstairs… he’s not a good man, sweetheart. I know that probably doesn’t help, but he’s a murderer.”

He’s a sick son of a bitch, in fact. But I don’t think the gory details will help her right now.

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