19. 19 - Zella
I wake to an extremely angry bear hovering over me.
Jumping about a mile with a squeal lodged in the back of my throat, I dislodge the warm leg pushed between mine. Heat rises in my face as Maverick stares down at the shirt I’m wearing. Ryder grumbles, his arms tightening around me as he buries his face into my neck. “Go back to sleep, princess.”
I avoid Maverick’s gaze as I carefully disentangle myself.
Waking up to a very large, very male body tangled with mine in the middle of the night was a bit of a shock, but Ryder was so warm that I didn’t wake him. Kind of regretting it now, with Maverick glaring like he’s about to yank me out of bed altogether.
Oh, boy. Blowing out a breath, I lift my chin to face the music. Maverick looks furious, hands curled into fists at his side as he looks down at us.
“Could you… not sneak up on me while I’m sleeping, please?” My voice is almost a whisper, not wanting to wake Ryder, but I frown at him. “It’s not very polite.”
Maverick makes a weird choking sound in the back of his throat, but his face darkens as he looks away. Leaning down, he picks up the edge of my braid where it trails over the end of the bed. His face clears, expressionless as he rubs the ends between his fingers.
“Why aren’t you in your own room, Zella?” he murmurs. Swallowing, I try to think of a reasonable excuse for being in a different room when he took me to mine last night and told me, very clearly, not to leave. Preferably an excuse that doesn’t tell him I went for a little run outside.
Although that plan falls apart pretty quickly when he pulls out a tangled stick from my braid.
He holds it up, one eyebrow quirked in a clear question.
When I do nothing but chew on my lip, his hand smooths along my braid, feeling it between his fingers. I watch him cautiously as his hands move up until his fingers are precariously close to my neck.
“Maverick,” I try to explain, but his hand slides into the back of my hair, and my words cut off as he turns my head, leaning down.
“You broke your promise.”
He sounds extremely displeased, and I fight to maintain eye contact, even as a small amount of guilt trickles into my stomach. “Um.”
Ryder shifts, and I seize on the reminder. “Ryder took me. I… I asked him. It’s not his fault.”
One teensy little white lie won’t hurt, right?
Maverick doesn’t say anything as the silence stretches out, and I lick my lips. “I should probably get up.”
He releases me suddenly, so much so that my body tilts a little, and I scramble out of bed. Ryder just mutters something and rolls over, and I blush again as a large, muscular leg wraps around the covers where I was a moment ago.
Maverick’s eyes trail over me, leaving little licks of fire wherever they land. He seems particularly focused on my bare legs, and I shift awkwardly. Blue eyes fly up to my face, and his voice comes out gritty and low.
“Come down for breakfast. Five minutes.”
“O-okay.” I look at Ryder, and a finger lifts my chin.
“Just you and me this morning, Zella,” he says. “We have some things to discuss.”
My gulp is audible, and I stare after him as he leaves.
Breakfast with Maverick.
This is fine.
As I stumble down the stairs a few minutes later, my stomach swirls with uncertainty. Something about Maverick puts me on edge. It’s almost like he has a switch. Sometimes, he comes across as incredibly polite and distant, and others…
He makes me more nervous than Enzo.
Something is definitely wrong with me. I woke up in a dungeon with Enzo leaning over me, and I didn’t feel as nervous as I do now.
Maverick is sitting in the same seat as yesterday when I sidle through the door, and we follow the same routine as he stands and pulls out a chair.
As soon as I’m sat, a silent signal triggers the arrival of breakfast dishes.
I watch as steaming plates of eggs, toast, meats, and fruit are laid out in a sumptuous banquet.
The staff disappear as quickly as they did last night, and I turn to Maverick. “Where do they live? Those people?”
He glances at the door. “Mostly in the city. They work in shifts. If you’re worried they’ll tell anyone you’re here, don’t be. We pay very well for their silence, and they know it.”
Brushing that aside, he picks up a plate and again selects a variety of foods before laying it in front of me.
“Are you going to feed me again?” My voice comes out a little more breathlessly than I intended, and his fingers tighten on the black ceramic.
“Not today,” he murmurs. “Eat.”
I lift the cutlery perfectly set out in front of me. Maverick moves over to the wall, and when he turns, I gasp at the delicious scent that wafts over. “Coffee!”
His lips twitch as he places the cup next to me, and I scoop it up, inhaling the fresh scent greedily.
“You enjoy coffee?” he asks, taking a seat with his own cup as I nod.
“Very much.” Staring down into the dark liquid, a flash of Ethan holding it over me slides into my mind, and my fingers shake. Carefully, I place it down before I spill it.
Maverick watches, but he doesn’t say anything. After a moment, he pulls a notebook towards him.
“I didn’t want to overwhelm you last night,” he says as I take a mouthful of fluffy eggs, “but I’d like to know more about your background, Zella. Specifically, your life in the apartment and your relationship with Ethan Moore.”
Any appetite I had flees out the door. The food in my mouth turns to dust, and I force myself to swallow it down. Of course, they want to know about Ethan. That’s why Ryder and Enzo were there, in the apartment.
I was just an unexpected bonus.
Maverick is waiting for a response, so I reach for my coffee and take a slow sip, trying to buy time. Whatever is between Ethan and I… I don’t want to betray him.
Any more than I already have.
“Zella?” Maverick pulls me out of my own thoughts, and I smile at him awkwardly.
“Sorry,” I offer. “It’s just… I don’t know what you want with him.”
He tilts his head. “You’re not worried about yourself, being here with us, but you’re worried about him?”
I shrug, my finger tracing circles in the white tablecloth. “I’m responsible for my own actions. I asked to leave, so whatever happens, that’s on me. But Ethan… I don’t want my words to bring him harm.”
“Even though he had you locked up, with an iron band around your ankle?” Maverick’s words hit like bullets, and I hunch in on myself.
“It wasn’t like that,” I whisper, before I look up at him. He looks disbelieving, and I shake my head. I need him to understand.
“He raised me,” I tell him. “Since I was a baby. He’s the only parent I’ve ever had, really.”
“What about your real parents?” Maverick presses, his tone even. “Where are they?”
“Dead. They died when I was a baby, and Ethan ran with me to keep me safe.”
Now Maverick leans forward, his expression falling into a frown. “From what?”
I shrug helplessly. “That’s what I’ve been wondering since Ryder and Enzo brought me here.”
What if there wasn’t anything? What if he just stole me?
Did he even know my parents at all?
“What if they’re not really dead?” I whisper brokenly. “My whole life might have been a lie, and I was too stupid to realize it.”
I’m lost in my own thoughts, and I jerk when a hand curls around mine. Maverick squeezes, and his blue eyes are deep as I look up at him.
“I can help you find out,” he says calmly. “We run an investigative company here. Well, I do. Ryder and Enzo have their own skills, and they help out when I need them.”
My head spins at the possibility he’s laying before me, so I focus on the easiest question. “What kind of skills?”
Maverick’s face shutters. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
My teeth sink into my lip. Having woken in Enzo’s dungeon, I have an idea that some of their work might be a little messy. Maybe it’s naive of me, but the suggestion doesn’t overly bother me.
He could have hurt me, and he didn’t.
Instead, he told me there were options . And then he kissed me.
I haven’t forgotten our interrupted discussion, and my cheeks flush at the memory. Maverick raises a quizzical brow, but I shake my head, forcing myself to think about the possibility that my whole life might not have been what I thought it was. “Could you do that? Look into it, I mean?”
He leans back in his seat. “I’ll need you to give me everything you know. Even then… not all cases get solved, Zella. This isn’t a guarantee.”
His voice sounds strange, and he looks away from me.
“I understand.” Straightening, I think back to what would be useful, and begin relaying my life to Maverick’s notebook. His hand is steady and sure as he scrawls notes in handwriting I can’t actually read, throwing out questions I can’t answer.
After a few minutes, the back of my throat aches with the urge to cry. It’s becoming increasingly clear that I know nothing .
“Hey,” he says firmly. “None of that. It’s not your fault if you don’t have all of the answers, Zella.”
I push my palms into my eyes, trying to shove away the emotional riot happening in my chest. “But why don’t I know? Why was Ethan so secretive?”
My voice breaks on the last word, and Maverick pushes his chair back. “Come here.”
I hesitate, a hiccup rattling in my chest as he beckons me. The white shirt he’s wearing stands out against his olive skin, and he tilts his head at me. “You promised to obey.”
There’s a dark reminder in his voice, and I hug my arms as I stand, shifting over to him and yelping when he pulls me into his lap. A large, warm hand smooths up and down my back, and I gradually relax into his touch.
His voice rumbles, soaking into me. “Talk to me.”
I swallow, not looking at him. “I feel so stupid.”
“What could you have done differently?” he asks me. “First you were a child. Then you were locked in. When you challenged him, he tied you up. What more could you have possibly done to make your situation better, Zella?”
“I don’t know,” I murmur. “But something.”
“Sometimes the only thing we can do is survive. You seem to have done a pretty good job of that.” Maverick clears his throat. “Did Ethan… did he ever hurt you?”
I shift on his lap, turning to face him. “What do you mean? He didn’t hit me.”
Maverick lifts his hand, brushing his fingers across my face. His works are low, an undercurrent of something that makes me shiver in his voice. “If he didn’t hit you, why is your cheek swollen?”
My fingers rise to cover his, the memory rushing back in. “I panicked. When he blocked off the windows. I couldn’t breathe properly, and he slapped me. I think that was the first time he’s ever actually touched me.”
“Because he had a… sensitivity to touch.”
I look at Maverick. His face is twisted with something. “What?”
For the first time, he looks away from me, his voice strained when he responds. “Zella… Ethan didn’t have an aversion to touch.”
I frown. “Yes, he did. He never touched me. Only my hair. And anytime I got close, he would freak out. He even had gloves on when he put the iron around my ankle.”
A lifetime of isolation, of being told no when I asked for a hug, of bandaging my own scrapes and bruises.
Maverick clears his throat. “Zella,” he says carefully, almost slowly. “We’ve been following him. He definitely doesn’t have any issues with touching. Ryder witnessed it many times.”
I yank my head back, staring at him with disbelief. “That’s not true.”
This is the one thing I know with certainty. There’s no way.
“You must have the wrong person,” I shrug. “I promise you, he does.”
Maverick’s lips thin. “Maybe. Don’t worry about it for now, though.”
He looks back down, his eyes scanning the page. “You spent your whole life in the apartment? You didn’t live anywhere else when you were a child?”
Shaking my head, I take a breath, inhaling the faint musky scent of his skin. His arms are around me as he makes more notes, the warmth of his skin soaking into mine through his shirt. “No. I mean, I can’t remember when I was a baby, obviously, but all of my memories are in the apartment.”
“What are your earliest memories?” he presses. “How old were you?”
Frowning, I try to think. “Maybe… six? Seven? I’m not sure.”
He makes a considering noise. “And nothing before that.”
I try to think harder, even scrunching up my face as though that will magically create a full set of memories inside my head, but all I feel is blankness and an ache forming behind my eyes. “No.”
He sighs, leaning back and running a hand down my braid. “Okay. I think that’s all I need for now.”
“What will you do?”
He grimaces. “Ryder and Enzo left a camera behind in the apartment, and there’s a tracker on his car, so we’ll know when he comes back. We tracked him to the airport, so he was telling the truth about going on a trip. When he gets back, we’ll re-assess.”
They’re tracking his car.
“Is that allowed?” I ask curiously. “To just… follow someone around like that?”
Maverick’s lips tilt up, and his hand comes up to cup my neck. “Everything is allowed, as long as you don’t get caught.”
I press back against him, soaking in the contact. After a lifetime without it, I’m cherishing every touch they choose to give me. When he pulls his hand away, I can feel my face drop.
“I have to work,” Maverick murmurs. “You’ll be with Enzo today.”
He sounds a little hesitant, but my pulse spikes, a flip of excitement inside my chest. “I am?”
His eyes scan my face, his shoulders relaxing. “You don’t mind?”
Mind? I’m nearly bouncing in place, and I scramble off his lap with a smile. “I don’t mind. Where?”
“You can go to the dungeon for today. He knows you’re coming. But remember–,”
“No going down without permission or on my own. Got it.” I nod vigorously, my feet already turning towards the door.
“Zella?” Maverick calls me as I pull the handle, and I turn back to him.
“Be careful.” His words are soft, but intentional. “Enzo… he’s not like us.”
My mind skitters over my last dungeon experience, and a furnace simmers to life inside my stomach. Maverick is right. Enzo’s energy is what I imagine a trapped animal would feel like - temporarily contained, but always dangerous.
Not something to turn your back on, unless you want to feel their teeth in your neck.
Swallowing, I nod, and then dart from the room.
Why does that visual make the furnace hotter?