8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Damon
I can't help but notice that her legs shake as we hastily head toward the exit. But, for whatever reason, she chooses to stay quiet. Part of me waits for her to comment on it but nothing comes. I can only assume that she's hurting—but the idea of freedom is giving her the second wind she needs to power through the pain.
Wasting no time, I stab my knife into the access pad, dislodging it like the one outside her room. Avery watches on in silence, hovering close by.
"I need you to move quickly," I tell her, throwing the remains of the security system down to the ground. "The guards will be on their way. As soon as we can get you back upstairs, you'll be safer."
"Where's Theo?" she asks, hesitating for a moment. "And Grey?"
Against my better judgment, I pause, looking at her curiously. There's something off about her tone, almost like a pained cry behind her words.
"They are searching the other side of the facility for you," I reply sharply. "Together—believe it or not."
She nods slowly, frustration creeping over me. I don't have time to play therapist to her right now, but I'm also trying to be mindful of the fact that she's been through hell. I don't know where her mind is right now but we don't have the advantage here. There's enough dodgy professionals upstairs to help unravel that clusterfuck, but we have to get out of here alive first.
When she doesn't answer, I squeeze her wrist. "Look, I know that whatever happened down here was fucked up. I know you're in a difficult place. But right now, you need to put all that aside and help me to get you out of here. Otherwise, all that pain… all of our efforts will be for nothing."
Avery looks up slowly, eyes watering slightly. She swallows, giving me a small nod. "I know."
It's small but it's the confirmation I need, my body dragging her behind me as I pull us out into the dark corridor. I have no idea if I'm hurting her with my grip but all I know is we are facing a losing battle with time. I have no key card which will slow us down. I'm also alone without backup, meaning whatever force Arthur has guarding the place will be solely my responsibility—all while keeping her safe.
When the stairwell door comes into view, I exhale in relief. But before I can reach it, three bodies come flying around the corner in front of us. I halt, swinging my hand out to Avery's chest, stopping her in her tracks.
The guards look almost perplexed to have caught us too, taking a few seconds to gather themselves. I watch as their hands fall to the guns on their belts, one of them stepping forward with a straightened posture.
"Remove your mask," he demands.
I shake my head. "No," I reply calmly.
He stumbles for a second, not expecting my reply. "Do it. Or I'll shoot you."
Avery's hand suddenly grips my upper arm, moving closer to me. I frown to myself as I notice her step a few inches ahead, like she's trying to protect me , and I hastily shove her backwards with the back of my hand.
"I wouldn't try," I warn him, slipping my hand unnoticed into my hoodie pocket to grab the knife. "Consider this your only warning. Go back to your stations and I might let you live."
The guards laughs, looking to the others for support. "Really?" he questions, drawing his gun.
Pulling the knife out, I don't bother to hide it from them, the blade resting against the top of my leg. "Really."
"You brought a knife to a gunfight?" one of the other guards taunts. "You're outnumbered in every sense."
"Not really," I say coolly, stepping forward. "But I'm a big believer in fuck around and find out ."
The other two draw their guns as well. Behind me, I sense Avery trying to move forward again, and I quickly cut her off by side-stepping to shield her.
Slowly, I use my free hand to lift my mask, watching as recognition crosses their faces. I know the first rule of being incognito is to stay hidden, but these three won't live to spill our secrets. They deserve to see the face of the man that kills them.
I want them to see me.
Two of them at least have the decency to look uncertain and rattled, arms lowering slightly as they look to their unofficial leader for guidance. I'm not familiar with him myself, but I can tell he knows who I am. The hesitation lingers on his face, gun still pointed at my chest.
"I'll give you until the count of three to make up your mind," I start.
"And what decision are we making?" he growls.
"Whether you live or die today."
He raises an eyebrow, his brown eyes glaring into mine. I know that expression well—it's the same one my father gives me. Trepidation but determined. He's afraid of me, scared of what I can do—but with a dire need to be better than me.
But this man is not Alexander Dale. He's nothing but a pathetic guard with an ego complex.
"I think you're forgetting that I'm the one with the gun," he snarls.
"True," I shrug lazily, looking away for a split second.
My blasé attitude throws them off guard. He doesn't see it coming when I suddenly swing back, launching my knife with force and power at his head. It spins through the air, blade embedding into his throat.
Gasping, he drops the gun with a loud clunk, hands clawing at the blade lodged in his neck. I rush forward, kicking the gun backwards toward Avery as I rip my knife from his throat, wasting no time in slashing it across the front of his neck.
Blood spurts out all over my black hoodie, my hand casually pushing him to the side as he stumbles and falls to the ground. Lifting my foot, I connect it with the stomach of one of the other guards and he flies into the cement wall behind them while I bring the bloodied blade to the face of his friend.
"What's it going to be?" I ask, staring down at his gun. It's pointed into my stomach, but I don't think he even realizes, his eyes wide with fear as he stares at my mask.
"I-I…" he stutters, shaking his head.
In my peripheral vision, I spot the other guard trying to get to his feet, hastily fucking around with the hammer on his gun.
Sighing, I turn my attention to him, watching the repugnant excuse of a man stumble pathetically in the face of danger.
"She needs to go back," the young guard in front of me says, unsure, eyes poised on the blade near his face. "We have orders to make sure she stays in the lab."
Suddenly, a loud bang echoes around the corridor, shocking even me. Metal clanks on the ground as I watch the other guard fall face-first, gun scattering away from him.
Amused, I turn around to find Avery staring at him wide-eyed, gun held in her hands.
"I'm not going back," she whispers firmly, gaze finding mine.
"You heard the lady," I say, glancing back at the last guard. "She's not going with you. Consider this your termination."
His eyes widen more before I push the blade forward, impaling his neck with it. I think it's gone all the way through, but I pull it out, wiping the blood off on my sleeve.
Falling to his knees, he clutches the wound on his neck, trying to stop the bleeding. I reach down, collecting his gun, before firing a bullet into his head. It's a quick death, full of mercy—but a statement nonetheless.
The corridor goes quiet, and I turn around, walking toward Avery. She still has the gun pointed, face full of disbelief, so I promptly take it from her hands, pocketing it.
"Good job," I tell her, watching as she stares at me bewildered.
Not waiting for a reply, I step over to the door, making quick work of the security system. When the door opens, I gesture for her to come with me, but she doesn't need to be told twice.
Avery briskly moves into the stairwell, letting out a shaky breath. Together, we ascend the stairs, until we reach the landing. I'm surprised to find the door open when we arrived, a masked figure waiting.
"Leighton," I nod. "I trust Capello is safe and sound."
He gives me a thumbs up, looking over Avery as she steps next to me.
"Vivian? You got Vivian out?" she asks urgently, voice suddenly full of power.
"She's with Jillian," Leighton answers, handing me the key card back. "But I should warn you, Christopher is lurking about."
I pause, shooting him a look of annoyance through the mask. "At this hour?"
"Apparently, the alarm was raised. He came back to check on things. Jemison and the others have kept him away but he's asking questions."
"Of course he is," I grumble, reaching for Avery. "Tell them to keep him away from the rooms. I don't have the energy to deal with him right now. Make sure the others get back safely. Avery, come with me."
Her footsteps match my pace as she lingers close, face visibly more relaxed at being upstairs. "Dr. Smith is here?" she asks wearily.
"Don't worry about him. He won't be coming anywhere near you."
She nods as we head into the Westwood corridor. "He didn't do this," she mutters quietly. "It was Elsher and Whittingham."
I clench my jaw. "I know, Avery. And believe me, they will all pay for it."
When we reach my room, I'm surprised to find it empty. The thought worries me a little, but I remind myself that Grey and Ashwood can handle themselves. Besides, we probably dealt with the majority of the danger. I have no doubt that there's more guards lurking around downstairs, but Grey is stealthy. He would have seen them coming long before they found him.
"Sit," I order Avery, motioning to the bed.
She sits on the edge of the mattress as I open my drawers, pulling out some snacks. When I turn around to hold it out for her, she stares at the candy, not reaching for it.
"Eat something," I near-snap. " Please ."
Her eyes shoot up to mine in surprise at my unusual begging. "Please?" she repeats.
I roll my eyes. "Don't make this into a big deal. Just take the food."
Slowly, she reaches for the chocolate, resting it in her lap.
Removing the mask from the top of my head, I set it down on the bed next to her, running my hand through my hair. Avery glances at the mask before looking up at me, an eerie numbed expression on her face.
"How long was I down there for?" she asks.
"Seventeen hours," I reply, trying to read her body language. "Why?"
She looks away, alarm bells ringing in my head at her sudden change of behavior. "Do you know of a woman here? Blonde hair, green eyes?"
I raise an eyebrow. "Capello?"
"No, not Vivian," she murmurs quietly. "Another woman—someone known to Grey."
Both eyebrows raise now as the pieces start to fall into place. "We know everyone here, Avery. What exactly are you trying to ask?"
Avery falls quiet, head dropping forward. "Was he with anyone while I was gone?"
"No," I answer sharply. "Unless you count Christopher."
She gazes up, eyes desperately searching for hope. "No beautiful women in the library?"
Ahh. Those motherfuckers. I'm not surprised they brought that up. I don't know how but it's obvious something was used to torture Avery.
"She's dead, Avery."
I don't bother to sugar-coat it. Not that it needs to be. I watch as her expression changes rapidly—sadness, surprise, relief… then disgust at her own solace.
"How do you know?" she asks hesitantly.
"Because I can only assume that whoever you saw was Leah. She's the only other person Grey has ever shown interest in. And she's been dead for six months."