Page 122 of Kept

Lorenzo’s bedroom door is open and voices float out. Francesca and Cesaro. They’re talking in low tones that I can’t hear.

There’s a moment just outside the door when I stop. Can I really do this? I could always turn around and go back to my room and tell Francesca that I’ve changed my mind and that I want to wait until Lorenzo gets home.

But then I think of Sienna and I step inside.

“I’m ready,” I say, though my voice is thin.

Francesca beams like a queen surveying her loyal subject. “Perfect. Do you know where you want to go?”

My throat works. “I… I think I want to go to Los Angeles.”

“A city you can lose yourself in.” She nods approvingly. “It’s the perfect choice.”

Something deep in my chest twists hard—intuition, dread, love, all tangled into a knot that won’t unravel.

“Wait. I?—”

“Now,” Francesca snaps.

Cesaro moves before the word fully leaves her lips.

Big hands grip me. Strong. Unyielding. A vice around my arms.

“W–wait,” I cry, but it comes out thin and useless as I try to fight him off.

A sharp sting spears the side of my neck.

I gasp, the world tilting. Blurring. Darkening around the edges like burnt paper curling inward.

My legs buckle, but Cesaro doesn’t let me fall. Each breath makes me feel like I’m on the verge of a panic attack that’s going to pull me into darkness if I let it.

Francesca steps forward, serene as a saint, her hand resting delicately on her bump.

“Don’t worry, Birdie,” she says sweetly. “I’ll make sure Lorenzo never finds you.”

My vision swims.

My thoughts scatter.

My body sinks into Cesaro’s arms like dead weight.

“Wait,” I slur, reaching for something—anything—some final anchor to the life I’m being ripped away from.

But it’s too late.

The floor and ceiling flip.

My eyes close.

My world narrows to a pinpoint.

And as everything goes black, only one thought survives the collapse:

Please forgive me, Lorenzo.

Because I already know when he discovers I’m gone… he will burn the world to find me.