-transfixed- Kenna James- Lauren Phillips- Jade... Direct

That’s where she saw her.

And Kenma realized she was right. Not because they were holding her. Not because the doors were locked. But because she had stopped wanting to escape. The scarf slipped from her fingers and puddled on the floor like a surrender.

Kenna James knew she shouldn’t be here.

“Don’t you want to see the rest of the exhibit?” Lauren asked. -Transfixed- Kenna James- Lauren Phillips- Jade...

“The question,” Lauren whispered, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind Kenma’s ear, her knuckles brushing the shell of it, “is not whether you want to leave.”

Kenma’s eyes fluttered shut for just a second. When she opened them, Jade was on her other side, boxing her in with warmth and shadow.

“I know,” Lauren replied, taking a sip of her wine. “Isn’t it beautiful?” That’s where she saw her

Lauren’s smile finally reached her eyes. “Good girl,” she breathed.

Lauren smiled. It was a slow, dangerous curve of lips that didn’t reach her eyes—eyes that were fixed on Kenma with the intensity of a predator who had already calculated every possible escape route and found them lacking. “Neither are you,” she said, her voice a low, smooth resonance. “And yet. Here we are.”

Lauren Phillips stood beneath a single spotlight, her silhouette impossibly long and sharp against a canvas of deep crimson. She wasn't looking at the art. She was looking at Kenma. Her posture was a study in control: one hand on her hip, the other holding a glass of dark wine that caught the light like a ruby. Not because the doors were locked

Kenma tried to look away. She tried to remember the layout of the gallery, the exit by the coat check, the night air that would break this spell. But her gaze snagged on Lauren’s movement—the deliberate tilt of her head, the way her free hand gestured to the shadows behind her.

“It’s whether you can,” Jade finished softly.