Page 61 of Whispers of the Dead

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 offlike 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 keepturning 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.”

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