Page 5

Zoey’s posture shifts when she slides back toward the far corner of her cell with slow and measured movements.

Her body curls inward and she tucks her knees close to her chest before wrapping her arms around them like she’s trying to disappear.

Seeing her go from being so strong to making herself so small, all because of one man who isn’t worth the dirt on her shoe, really grinds my gears.

I know it’s necessary for survival sometimes, but I want to rip the still-beating hearts out of every person who has ever made her feel this way, because now she doesn’t say a word.

She doesn’t fight; doesn’t lash out. She simply makes herself smaller.

The dreg laughs. Then he grabs her cup of juice back through the bars before standing and brushing off his pants like he’s done something impressive. “Think about it,” he says. Then he tosses the juice over his shoulder with a flick of his wrist before walking away and leaving.

For a long moment, no one speaks. The tension is thick and suffocating, clinging to the air like smoke after a fire.

Then I break it. “Eat.”

Zoey doesn’t look at me. She stares at the spilled juice like it holds the last ounce of hope she had left. Her fingers grip her knees so tightly that I can see the tendons straining in her wrists. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You need to keep your strength up.”

Then she turns her head toward my voice, and I see her for the first time.

A haunting, ethereal beauty with her eyes shadowed by the dim light.

She shakes her head. “The juice will do me more harm than good, and I need protein. I can’t eat just anything.

They took my medicine, and now I have to watch what I eat. If I don’t?—”

Her voice falters. She swallows hard and looks anywhere but at me. I don’t miss the way her hands curl into fists.

My brow furrows. “What medicine?”

She doesn’t answer.

Benji chimes in from his cell on the other side of her. “What, you on a diet or something? Pretty sure your weight’s the least of your problems right now.”

Zoey lets out a slow breath. Her voice almost comes out brittle when she speaks. “It’s not about that. They took my…” Her throat bobs with a hard swallow. “They took my insulin.”

There’s silence as the weight of her words settles over us like a slow, creeping dread.

Benji, for once in his life, has nothing to say. Even he doesn’t have a joke for that.

The realization settles like a stone in my stomach, and scenarios run through my mind. The dregs aren’t going to give back her insulin out of the goodness of their hearts. If they had a heart. They’ll use it against her. Dangle it in front of her like bait. The thought makes my skin crawl.

This situation is far more dangerous for her than I realized. She’s not only fighting for survival in this hellhole. She’s fighting against her own body. Without her insulin, she’s running out of time.

When no one speaks, Zoey hugs her knees tighter and fixes her stare on the ground as if it holds the answers to her problems. She leaves her food untouched.

Benji breaks the silence first, as always. “Well, hell. Guess that explains the attitude.” His voice is lighter than usual, but I can hear the edge to it. “You’re not just mad. You’re on a deadline.”

Zoey lets out a bitter laugh, though the sound is devoid of humor. “You, you could say that.”

I exhale through my nose. Frustration knots in my chest. “You can’t give up on food.” My eyes flick toward her tray, then to mine. “If you stop eating, you won’t last long enough to try your grand plan of getting out of here.”

Her head snaps up and irritation flashes in her eyes. “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t been doing this for years? The wrong food spikes my blood sugar, and stress doesn’t exactly help. Guess what I’ve got an abundance of right now?”

Her voice cracks at the end, and for some goddamn reason, I feel guilty.

“I’m doing the best I can,” she adds in a whisper.

Fortunately for her, my guilt isn’t enough to make me stop pushing, or to regret it.

I need to know what I’m dealing with. What she’s dealing with.

I can’t protect her if I don’t know all that I’m protecting her from.

She’s going to get my help, regardless of whether or not she wants it. No matter how angry it makes her.

That thought hits me harder than it should. I can’t even properly see this girl, and I already have her under my protection. Still, her fear of the dregs earlier keeps eating away at me. Everyone fears dregs, but hers is something else, and it feeds my intense curiosity.

Benji clears his throat. “Look, I’m not exactly a nutritionist, but I’m pretty sure whatever passes for food around here isn’t doing anyone any favors.”

His attempt at humor falls flat. That’s a new experience for him, and it amuses me greatly.

“Laughter won’t help her right now. However, I have something that might.”

I reach for my water. Without a word, I snake the glass through the bars and set it on the ground before sliding it toward her. The high-pitched scrape of glass against concrete fills the cell block, and Zoey lifts her head at the sound.

Her blue eyes flick to the cup. She hesitates.

“Drink,” I command.

This time, this doesn’t argue. She uncurls herself from her ball with caution, like she’s expecting a trick.

When she crawls across the floor and passes through a ray of sunlight, I see her eyes for the first time.

Bright, striking, electric blue. Like the sky I’ve been watching day in and day out for months through the barred window.

Something in my chest tightens. Electric is a fitting description, because the sight paralyzes me to the spot and I don’t back away from the bars like I intend to.

She reaches for the glass at first, then at the last second, she reaches for me. I pull my hand back before she can touch me, but not before a ray of light gleams off my metal ring and catches her attention. My body tenses at the near contact.

“Thank you,” she says, wrapping her fingers around the cup. “I’m sorry I don’t have juice to swap with, but I appreciate you sharing. I’ll only take a little.”

“You can keep it. I’ll take the next one.” When she looks in my direction, her eyes searching for me in the dark, I remain still, afraid to make a single movement that she might see.

“Deal,” she says. Then, with a small smile, she brings the cup to her lips and takes a sip.

I watch her from the shadows and run my tongue along my dry lips.