Page 31

ZOEY

T he clanking of keys echoes down the corridor and sends a sharp twist through my stomach. Footsteps get nearer and panic claws its way up my throat at the thought of what might happen next. I don’t trust it.

My fingers twist together in front of me, and I glance toward the darkness to await my fate.

Damon’s breathing is heavy, and I know he’s close.

His presence is comforting, even if I can’t see it.

Benji shifts against the bars, and I hear the faintest creak of metal when he grabs them.

Across from me, Cole’s sharp green eyes gleam in the low light, locked onto the approaching shadows with a quiet, coiled tension.

The door to my cell creaks open, and the two dregs who brought me and Cole back here step inside, hauling something large between them.

I press my back against the far wall. My heart hammers, but it’s Damon’s low growl cutting through the silence that helps calm me.

Not much, but it reminds me I’m not alone. Well, not entirely.

The super tall one with black hair and black eyes is Mars. He didn’t speak a word to us, but Cole told me he met him when he had to face Eugene after throwing the knife that saved me .

“What’s going on?” I ask when the second dreg unlocks my door.

They ignore me. Instead, they maneuver a queen-sized box spring through the narrow doorway. The frame scrapes against the stone floor as they shove it into place in the center of my cell.

I blink, completely thrown off. “What the hell?”

Once the box spring is centered in the cell, they disappear again and return moments later hauling a thick, plush mattress wrapped in clean fabric. My confusion deepens. I track their movements, expecting some kind of cruel trick, but no. They’re setting up a goddamn bed.

A real bed. Not the cold, unforgiving cold concrete I’ve been sleeping on with Damon’s thin blanket that he insists I use instead of himself.

“What the hell?” I ask again.

The dregs still don’t acknowledge me. Their movements are mechanical, placing soft blankets and three large, fluffy pillows on top of the bed.

Then a box filled with food. Fresh vegetables, bread, butter, and even cheese.

They set it all inside my cell without a word.

I’m so stunned by everything that when Mars holds out a yellow fleece jacket for me, I stare at it like it’s from another planet.

“Care to trade and let me have my jacket back?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure.” I slip out of the oversized jacket and swap it for one that’s soft and warm.

At the end, they place three dozen unopened plastic water bottles on the floor, along with a single small vial of insulin and a syringe. I snatch it up in moments and my fingers curl around it like a lifeline, holding it so tight it hurts.

“What is this? Why is Eugene doing this?”

Mars laughs under his breath and brushes his hands off like he’s finished some grand task. “This isn’t from Eugene,” he answers in an amused tone.

“Then who?”

“Avery. Though, I’d hide that insulin if I were you. Wouldn’t want anyone taking it away again.” Then he lowers his voice to a whisper. “There are eyes and ears.”

My mind spins, and all I can do is stare at him. Avery is doing this. My chest tightens with a mixture of gratitude and suspicion. Why is he doing this? What the hell is his angle?

Before I can ask the questions swirling around in my head, the dregs don’t stop here. They move to each of the other three cells to place food, clean blankets, a pillow, and bottles of water for Benji, Cole, and Damon.

None of the men speak, but the tension in the air is palpable.

Then the dregs leave and the heavy click of the door locking behind them punctuates their exit.

Silence stretches even into the moments after they’re gone.

I can’t stop staring at my newly furnished cell.

I feel like I’ve stepped into a dream I can’t trust.

Benji is the first to break the silence. “What the hell is Avery playing at?”

I shake my head without an answer. My fingers trace the edge of the vial and I roll it between my fingers, trying to process all of this. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s trying to help me. He’s oddly stubborn about that.”

Damon shifts against the bars and I hear them all dragging their new objects through the bars and into their cells. “Has something happened between you two? Because we’ve been here for quite a while, and this isn’t normal.”

The question catches me off guard, but it doesn’t sting the way I expect it to.

It’s not an accusation. He’s only curious.

Still, I bristle, uncertain why I feel so defensive.

“No. I’ve turned him down every single time, and I’ll keep turning him down unless we all get our freedom. That’s non-negotiable.”

“If we get our freedom, then what?” Benji asks.

That’s a great question. One that I wish I had an answer for. “I don’t know. Be free, I guess?”

Cole’s green eyes gleam in the darkness. His presence moves closer, and I know he’s right up against the bars when they rattle. “It’s obvious he cares about you, Zoey. That much was clear earlier.”

“What happened earlier?” Damon asks. There’s metal against metal when he grabs the bars.

“He had blood on his hand when he came into the room after I woke up,” Cole says. “Wouldn’t say where it came from.”

“Only that the dreg who withheld my insulin had been dealt with,” I finish.

Benji clasps his hands together. His tone becomes light and teasing. “Interesting. A dreg joining us would certainly make things lively. Especially when I make golden girl feel good again.”

Cole lets out a huff of a laugh. “Funny. Avery said something like that, too. Guess he and Benji are on the same wavelength.”

“You know what we need? To celebrate with a song. I’ll start.” Benji clears his throat and starts singing a tune.

“You’re ridiculous,” I laugh.

Benji stops singing in favor of joining in on the conversation with Cole and Damon.

The three of them keep talking about all the what-ifs and the possibilities of what it could mean if Avery does have a soft spot for me.

Damon reminds them to think about the drawbacks, and whether it could be a trap to let my guard down.

I tune them out until Benji directs his next question to me. “So, Zoey, what are you going to do now that your cell has been upgraded to a five-star suite? ”

A slow grin crosses my face when I look around at the soft blankets and plush pillows that look almost too good to be true. It’s more comfort than I’ve had since the dead rose.

After depositing the vial into the small cooler provided in the box with food, I answer him by running the few short feet and jumping onto the freshly made bed with a squeal. My body relaxes against something other than cold stone.

I’ll figure out Avery later. For now, I’m going to enjoy the hell out of this bed.

The plush bedding engulfs me and surrounds me with the softest warmth.

It’s a stark contrast to the cold, oppressive silence.

The softness beneath me should bring comfort, should be a reprieve from stone and suffering, but all I can do is lie here, staring at the cracked ceiling while my thoughts spin in endless loops.

A full day has passed since the dregs delivered the supplies from Avery, and Damon still hasn’t said a word. After the guys finished discussing their thoughts on the matter, Damon clammed up and went silent.

The silence weighs heavier than the bars in this damn prison.

I turn my head and peer in Damon’s direction, where I can make out the faint outline of his form.

He’s slumped against the back wall with one broad shoulder pressed against the bars between us.

His head tilts back, his presence barely visible in the shadows that swallow him whole.

I imagine his eyes are probably closed to block out the dark world we’re trapped in. I don’t like this silence between us.

“Damon.”

No response.

I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the mattress. “ Damon, come on. You’ve been quiet all day. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He shifts, but I don’t think he turns his head. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

I frown. My fingers tighten in the blanket draped over my lap. “That’s not true, and you know it. Talk to me.”

There’s a long pause before he finally speaks. His voice comes out low and gravel-rough, like he’s been swallowing nails instead of words. “You deserve so much more than this, Zoey. More than me. More than any of us.”

“Well, I know that’s true, but I still don’t like the sound of that,” Benji comments.

The ache in his voice sends a sharp pang through my chest, and I recognize the feeling I had before I was taken. That same feeling of wondering if I would ever be worthy enough, or if I was destined to be alone.

I let my feet fall to the floor. “Why would you say that?”

The sound of Damon’s harsh exhale sounds like a blade scraping against metal.

“Because I’m the reason we’re here.” His shoulder tenses against the bars.

“I made the call that got us captured, and I destroyed the lives of the people I care about most. Now, if I let myself feel anything for you, I’ll destroy you, too. ”

His words are soaked in guilt, in a burden he’s carried alone for too long, and it hurts me on a visceral level. A knot tightens in my throat and I shake my head. “Damon, that’s not true. You didn’t?—”

Benji’s voice cuts through the dark. “That’s bullshit, and you know it, Damon. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. You were only trying to keep us safe.”

Damon doesn’t answer. His silence screams louder than any argument could.

I push off the bed and move closer to the bars between us. My fingers wrap around the cold steel, and I try again, my voice softer now. “Damon. ”

He doesn’t move.

“Move closer,” I beg.

His shoulders tighten. “Zoey…” My name comes out like a warning.

“Please.” My fingers tighten around the bars.