Page 1 of Kept
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The door slammed so hardthe frame rattled, and Eli stumbled onto the porch as if spat out.
For a moment he stood there, fists clenched, staring at the grain of the door as though it might open again, as though his mother might appear and tell Scott to stop being such an asshole, that she hadn’t forgotten Eli, that she still saw him…
Nothing. No footsteps, no voice. Only the muffled thump of someone moving upstairs. Light seeped from her bedroom window above, steady and obvious.
She was awake. She had heard everything. She was watching and pretending not to.
As usual.
Goddammit.His chest ached so hard it felt hollow.
Eli shoved his hands into his pockets. Empty—no cash, no wallet, no keys. Not even his phone. Scott had made sure of that. Kicked him out with nothing, like garbage.
The porch light buzzed overhead, casting a yellow circle that turned the chipped steps into a stage. Eli felt exposed, ridiculous, the “problem kid” standing alone while the neighbors pretended they couldn’t hear the shouting. He could almost see their heads turning away from upstairs windows, blinds snapping shut.
He hated them. Hated Scott. Hated his mother most of all, for watching and not stopping it.
Don’t cry. You’re nineteen now, not a kid any more. Don’t fucking cry out here where everyone can see.
He pushed off the steps and stumbled into the street.
The night was colder than he’d realized, the air like a blade against his skin. He wrapped his arms tight across his chest, wishing for a jacket, for anything. His sneakers slapped the asphalt as he walked fast down the middle of the street, away from the house, away from Scott’s rage, away from the silence of his mother’s turned back.
It should have felt like freedom. It didn’t.
He knew this drill. He’d slept outside before, more times than he could count—park benches, backyards, once in the library, after slipping through an unlocked window. But not like this. Not with the air so sharp it stung. Not with absolutely nothing on him. And not on this night of all nights.
Because tonight wasn’t just another night.
The thought hit him like a kick in the ribs. He froze in the middle of the empty street, chest hammering.
The moon was rising.
Not full, but round enough, white-silver and merciless. And tonight—it wasthe run.
“Shit.” The word slipped out before he could stop it.
Everyone in town knew the rules. Flyers plastered the coffee shop windows. Warnings repeated every year: stay in, lock up, don’t go near the woods.
Because once a year, the wolves ran.
Not the nice wolves who bagged your groceries or fixed your tires the rest of the year. No. On this night the boundaries came down. They shed their human masks and took what they wanted.
The run wasn’t just a hunt. It was a claiming. Volunteers signed up for it. Names, contracts. They wanted the money that came with it. Volunteer, and everything will be paid for you until the next year's run.
Some wanted more than the money, the rumors went.
The rest of town stayed inside.
And here Eli was, alone, unprotected, thrown out into the open like bait.
Scott knew.The realization twisted like a knife. That son of a bitch had waited for this. He’d chosen tonight to throw him out, knowing what prowled the streets.
Eli’s stomach flipped. He imagined claws raking the pavement, heavy breath on his neck. Wolves sniffing the air, catching the scent of someone stupid enough to wander unmarked. Catchinghim.
His pulse hammered. Something dark curled low in his gut, shameful and denied.
