16. Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Grey
She smells and looks amazing.
It takes all of my willpower not to stop her from fixing her clothes up, to bend her back over the table and go round two.
Knowing she's all over my cock right now, it's pacifying.
Having her back in front of me is the only thing stopping me from tearing this place apart. But fuck knows I want to—even Damon does. But we know that we have to handle this delicately. Too many people could get caught in the crossfire if we don't take our time.
I don't fucking care to be honest. As long as Avery comes out of it alive, let the others burn. Except I know she wouldn't be able to live with that.
When she thinks no one is looking, I catch her seeking out Capello, checking that the other girl is still unharmed.
After what Capello did, part of me wishes she would suffer. There will never be enough punishment to repay what she did to Avery.
My girl begs to differ, constantly reminding us that it appears Capello has seen the error of her ways now that her pathetic dick-on-a-stick is out of the picture.
I guess I have a little sympathy for what she would have gone through downstairs. It's hard not to when Avery was down there with her, experiencing the same thing. But my heart doesn't beat for anyone except my little killer. And if anything, Capello was a part of the reason Avery was taken. She started this whole mess, whether she's repented her ways or not.
"Should we go look for the others?" Avery asks, putting Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde back on the shelf.
"No," I answer casually, careful not to draw her attention to anything. "I just want to be alone with you for a bit."
She nods, giving me a smile as she heads back over. "Are you doing okay?"
I raise an eyebrow at her, secretly teasing her need to always care about others while fighting her own demons. "I'm fine. Are you ?"
There's barely any sign of discomfort at my question, worrying me.
Just before breakfast, I met up with Damon once I knew Avery was safe. He didn't have much to say as usual, but he did, in Damon words , express a concern about her lack of emotions .
I laughed it off, telling him to cut her some slack after everything that happened. But even now, I see it. She's detaching, completely dissociated from the situation as if she wasn't just tortured. A few times I've spotted her staring off into space, a battle behind her eyes as she compartmentalizes her emotions.
She's scared.
Maybe she's worried that she'll drive us away if she loses her shit. Or that it's too much to handle.
There's a greater need to reassure her, to tell her that's not the case. But there's a part of me that's worried too, terrified that I'll push her away if I make her open up.
Which is why it pains me to think that she opened up to Damon, of all people.
I know he knows more than he's letting on. He's closing down too, focusing too much on the task at hand. But I also have seen the way he looks at her when he thinks we're not paying attention.
It's unsettling.
Despite wanting to be the one she turns to and confides in, I understand they both need this. I want to be the one to keep her safe, but what if I'm not there? She needs someone else. Three people are better than two, right?
Sometimes safety doesn't come in the form of knives and fist knuckles. It's about knowing that her vulnerability is protected, her weakness not exploited when she's drowning in her own emotions.
If I can trust Theo with that, then surely I can be open to the possibility of trusting the one person who has always had my back in here.
Even though I wanted to punch him, Theo voiced the same as well. He can see it too—the tension between Damon and Avery. But that motherfucker doesn't have an ounce of jealousy in his psychopathic body, telling me to get over myself, and let things run their course.
" It will break her if she has to fight it. She'll disappear before us—ceasing to exist—if you make her believe she's not allowed to love someone. "
And I fucking hate that he's right. All she's ever wanted is to be loved. Imagine if I stop that—take that away from her. It will reinstate every fucked-up thing she's ever believed about herself that we've worked hard to erase.
"You can ask me, you know," Avery murmurs, ripping me out of my thoughts.
The library comes back into view, and I register that I've zoned out, my demons pulling me under again.
But I'm stronger than them now.
"Ask you about what?" I ask, giving her a warm smile so as to not alarm her.
Avery puts her hands on my chest, peering up at me with her big doe-eyes. She's trying to calm me down.
"About what happened in the labs."
It's the first time since her return that she's willingly offered to talk about it, not avoiding the conversation that we all wanted to have. My smile drops, a serious expression taking its place.
"Only if you want to talk about it," I offer.
Her fingers dig into my chest slightly, eyes shaking as she recalls the events that linger behind them. But as quickly as it comes, it vanishes again.
"I know about Leah," she starts, a stabbing pain hitting me on the other side of her hand as my chest tightens. Out of everything, that's her beginning point.
Not her own pain, what they did to her.
But my ex-girlfriend.
I nod once. "I know," I mumble, not bothering to hide the fact that Damon has briefed me on the situation. As much as I want to trust them, and I don't want to break the trust developing between them , it would be an insult to pretend that I don't know. Avery knows that Damon tells me things—it's who we are. It's what keeps the society running.
Avery's eyes fall to her hands, avoiding my gaze. "I'm sorry for what happened to her," she murmurs quietly.
My brows furrow as I frown, immediately grabbing her wrists and holding her firmly to me. "Whatever you are thinking—stop. Don't start comparing yourself to something that happened in the past. We're here now, and that's all that matters."
"There's cameras in here," she says monotonously. I'm confused by her statement—I know there's cameras everywhere but unsure why she's veering off the subject.
Before I can speak again, she's elaborating, her tone giving the sense that she's not present.
"They filmed you. They have personal footage. Nothing is kept private."
They have footage of me and Leah.
I suspected as much when Damon told me, but seeing her reaction only makes it more real. If someone forced me to watch a video of Avery fucking someone else, I wouldn't stop until they were all dead, mangled into tiny little pieces for the kitchen to feed to the surviving staff.
The irony isn't lost on me.
Without realizing, I squeeze her wrists tightly so that she doesn't pull away. "Avery, look at me," I demand, watching as she instantly tilts her head back to meet my gaze. I try to find something in her eyes, but it's empty—a closed wall. "I can't change the past. We all have a history. But Leah isn't someone you need to compete with. Even if she wasn't dead, there'd still be no competition. You're the one I love. You're enough ."
A flash of emotion lights up in her eyes, but I'm not sure which part of my statement awoke it. Either way, I'm happy to have her back in the moment, so that I can get through to whatever she's fighting beneath the surface.
"Do you want to know what they did?" she asks, voice quivering slightly.
I nod firmly, refusing to let go of her hands even though I'm probably hurting her.
As the words fall from her mouth, I force myself to stay quiet—to listen. But inside, rage builds up, visions of the endless, ruthless torture forming in my mind as she paints a picture.
I'm going to kill them.
No, I'll do worse than that.
I'll become their living nightmare.
If they want to play God, then I'll do them one better.
I'll be the Devil.
Except there'll be no ' for the good of the science ' nonsense. It will be cold, hard revenge. They will suffer, until they beg me to stop. Even then, I'll keep going because death would be too kind for them. Death would be a sweet welcome and they don't deserve that.
Maybe I'll make Arthur watch. I bet he'd squirm, knowing he would be next.
Or maybe, Alexander too—though I doubt I'd get the chance. Damon has his name written all over Alexander's casket.
When Avery finishes filling me in, I notice the light in her eyes is gone again. But there's also something else there. I can't place it, even though it feels familiar. Maybe it's because it's coming from her—my innocent little killer.
I'm sick and twisted because my body reacts to it, shorts becoming tight as my cock twitches under the gray fabric.
There's a glint in her eyes that says she's mad. No, not mad.
Certifiably enraged.
Her words from Elsher's office come back to me. They were hard to hear, but we all caught them.
"It's our fucking turn now. Remember what we're capable of…"
And then it hits me. She isn't shutting down because she's falling apart. It's deeper than that.
She's hurting, it's true. Underneath that hard exterior she's still that woman that went through abuse after abuse. The delicate person who just wanted to be loved and seen. That's still there, threatening her existence while she tries to grasp another betrayal by people who were meant to protect her.
But there's also something else brewing. She's had enough of being treated like she's weak—pushed to the breaking point time and time again as people use her for their own personal gain.
Something has snapped in her. For the first time in her life, she's no longer solely focusing on the misery—the unstable control over her emotions that she learned to hide. Now, she's angry. But she's never allowed herself to feel that way, scared of standing up for herself. It's dangerous, the potential to implode once she allows herself to give into the rage. That's the hardest part—because once she does give in, it signifies much more than anyone could imagine.
It would mean that she has self-worth. That she sees her own potential.
My own words come back to haunt me, like a prophecy being fulfilled—one that only I saw coming.
"She's a dark horse. Imagine what will happen when she finally takes hold of that pain and runs with it. Imagine what she can become."