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

Lauren set down her glass. The clink against the marble was a period at the end of a sentence. She stepped forward, closing the distance between them until Kenma could smell her perfume—smoke, amber, and something sharp like crushed mint.

And in the hush of the empty gallery, under the gaze of paintings that saw nothing and knew everything, Kenma James remained exactly where she was—transfixed between two points of gravity, with no intention of ever drifting free. -Transfixed- Kenna James- Lauren Phillips- Jade...

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. Lauren set down her glass

“You’re not supposed to be here either,” Kenma whispered, though it wasn’t a question. And in the hush of the empty gallery,

Kenma’s breath hitched. She should run. Every rational part of her brain screamed it. But her feet were rooted to the floor. She was transfixed—not by fear, but by something far more destabilizing: the sheer, electric certainty that if she stayed, she would be unmade. And some dark, quiet part of her wanted nothing more.

“Don’t you want to see the rest of the exhibit?” Lauren asked.

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