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The pleasant memories envelop me, pushing my hunger and worries to the edge of my consciousness. I close my eyes and rest my head against the wall, Eli’s blanket snug around me. Thescrape and stomp of boots on stone yank me out of my thoughts. Eli rounds the corner from the hallway.

“What are you doing here?” I hiss, the shock flipping into anger simply at the notion of his presence. He’s wearing a white shirt, and I hate the way it sticks to the muscles of his chest, outlining each one. His light aura is absent, leaving darkness to fill my mouth with the taste of fresh blood and my head with doubt.

“It’s my castle.” He grins at the gray walls.

“Don’t you have a shift?”

He tosses himself onto the couch, sending it sliding back a foot and screeching over the stone. “I got it covered.”

“Why?”To set another creature loose on me?

He leans back, so damn smug as he looks down at me, arms spread over the back of the couch and legs wide, a man on his throne—fitting for a castle. “I don’t need a reason to stay home and guard my little prisoner.”

“Are you going to leave me in here all day…and watch me?”

A smirk climbs his cheeks. “Maybe.”

“Don’t you have my underwear for entertainment?”

“Panties don’t look at me like you just did.” He sets a bar on the stone floor outside the cell and returns to the couch. “Eat. You have work to do.”

I spin the black ring on my thumb, easing the anger from the sight of my food on the floor. I’m too hungry for stubbornness. I keep most of the curses in my head as I push away the blanket and crawl forward to grab the bar, then sit back against the wall, chewing and simmering over Eli’s smug face.

Only one man comes close to his level of smugness: Maverick J. He thought I was broken enough to take anyone willing, and he was right. I’d been alone, avoiding people as much as possible for the four long years since I burned down Reggie Junior’s house, but it was the muscles stretching the sleeves of his shirtand the dark hair that swept over his eyes that had me opening my door for him, not the shortage of company.

He would go on and on about the unfortunate lack of appreciation at his construction job, how he should have been made site manager years ago. He found his way from the sidewalk repairs outside the coffee shop to my room upstairs—and kept coming back. He brought dinner every night, just for himself, and moped while I crunched on dry cereal out of the box and wondered if I’d ever track down my parents.

When he was full of his take-out food, and the black hairs on his belly stood up from being so stuffed, he’d finally shut up and crawl onto my squeaky floor mattress. Then he’d strip off all his clothes except the orange vest and wait for me to notice with that smug look on his face, as if I were in for a damn treat. In an attempt to avoid the unpleasant gurgles between the moans and groans, I always stayed away long enough for his digestion to advance a bit, busying myself with drawing the cardinal directions on my map or preparing my backpack for the next day’s hike.

But there was nothing else to do in that small room. Eventually, I had to face the naked, slightly too hairy man each night. He was as selfish in bed as he was with his food and emotions, but I had needs. So I let him ride me until he cried louder than the squeaky springs—from pleasure…or self-loathing. It wasn’t always clear.

My body was all I was willing to give to Maverick J. He was perfect in that sense—an escape—never asking me a thing or paying enough attention to notice the “episodes” from my visions. I’m still numb to the memories. He was just another confirmation that no one could care about me, especially when he didn’t come back one day, like everyone else. Except Kelter. He was the first and only person to step inside my room sinceMaverick J. last showed his face over two years earlier, and it was always about the company, nothing more.

I wipe the crumbs from my mouth and glance up at Eli. He’s been sitting in silence, watching me pick at my bar for fourteen minutes. It should be weird, but it’s not—it’s fucking disturbing.

“He was moved,” he says, finally breaking the silence.

“Kelter?”

“Kaleida was reassigned over a week ago. No one has seen him since.”

“He’s missing?” My heart stops, holding its beat along with my breath. I thought she was with him every day. “You have to go find him.”

“Not yet.” He stretches his legs out lazily. “I have my own little prisoner to keep track of.”

“Don’t you realize that if anything happens to him, I have no reason to go along with what you want?”

He stiffens, as if this hadn’t occurred to him. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure not to tell you if the Centress kills him.”

“You—” I can’t even spit out an insult. I don’t know if he said that to be malicious, or if he actually believed it would be comforting. I hug my legs, rocking and trying to stop the images of all the things that could happen to Kelter. Tears fill the pockets of my eyes and cascade down my cheeks, eroding all the layers I’ve built to block my feelings, until it’s only me at my core—underneath the anger, behind the violent visions and far deeper than a lifetime of rejection.

And that “me” I uncovered—she’s close to hysterical. The thought of never seeing Kelter again aches more painfully in my soul than any of the thousands of tragic deaths my own mind has offered up. Each thought hits harder than the last, taking me over with gasping breaths.

Eli watches me from the couch, observing my teary face with prying eyes like endless tunnels of darkness. I can’t read him,can’t figure out his expressions, too many faces and feelings blended into one. Then he’s on his feet, that tall body high above me at the door of the cell. He unlocks it and steps inside.

“What do you want?” I brace myself for what he might do.

He crouches in front of me, his dark scent strong, and positions the side of his hooked finger under my chin where all the tears gather and splatter onto my knees. His eyes narrow, his nose wrinkling enough to make me notice. “Do you know how loud you are when you do that?”