19. Chapter 19
Chapter 19
Damon
"A cell?" Avery asks in disbelief, staring at the tiny black device in my palm like it has razor-sharp teeth.
"No, it's a vibrator," I scoff sarcastically. "Of course it's a cell. Take it already."
I thrust it toward her, watching as she scrambles to regain cognitive ability to grab it. Once she has it securely in her own grasp, I pull a second one out from my pocket.
"I think it's important that we are all able to communicate when separated," I tell her, flipping it open so that the screen lights up. It's not a fancy cell by any means—just a TCL Flip. But somehow, I was able to convince Christopher to purchase them on my behalf and sneak them in.
The upside of his behavior recently is he seems more inclined to help—but only when it benefits others. Not me.
He was reluctant at first, but once I mentioned that my circle, including Avery, would be issued with a cell, he was suddenly willing.
The smug fucking bastard.
"What do I do with it?" Avery questions hesitantly.
My arm drops to my side, the cell dangling carelessly in my fingertips. "It's a cell, Avery. You call and text on it."
That seems to snap her back to reality, her eyes narrowing as she glares at my offensive remark. "I know how to use a cell," she argues.
"Do you?" I act surprised. "Because you are gawking at the damn thing like it's from the future."
Her face relaxes. "I just mean what would you like me to do with it specifically?"
I smile, enjoying the banter that I disgustingly missed. "I've taken the liberty of pre-saving all of our numbers to your speed dial. Should you need to contact us when we are not with you, just call or message."
"So, I won't be with someone at all times."
A rush of icy discomfort goes through me. "Unfortunately, no. As much as we want to make that work long-term, it's not going to always be possible. But this way, you can reach out. We'll always have tabs on your whereabouts, but if you are in session or in your room, we'll know you need us at that moment."
She nods. "I can't pay for this," she murmurs. "Assuming there's going to be a bill at the end of each month."
I raise an eyebrow, perplexed by the thought that she assumes I'm going to make her pay for a present. "It's a gift ," I reiterate. "For safety measures."
"I'm surprised Dr. Smith didn't mention it in session," she mutters with a scoff, looking down at the carpet.
My eyes scan over her frame, taking in her body language. She's not hostile exactly, but she's also thrown off by something. I decide to pry, because everything is a need-to-know basis for me.
"What did Christopher say to you?" I ask, straight to the point.
Avery lifts her head to meet my gaze. "He was very chatty today. Told me all about how he framed me with the damn staff card."
It's not very often that I'm surprised, but I can say with ease that I didn't expect Christopher to admit that to her face.
It was on my to-do list to fill her in once she was settled, but as usual, he'll do anything to beat me to the punch.
"He did," I answer, confirming it. "Fucking idiot has quite the chip on his shoulder— savior complex ."
Her lips twitch at my response, but her eyes turn cool—her gray irises flashing with knowledge. "He also mentioned that Alexander couldn't have given two shits about my return. But you cut a deal with him."
That statement actually makes me laugh out loud. Classic Christopher.
"I did," I nod. "More so because he doesn't consider that actions have consequences—one of those would have been the facility dealing with an out of control Grey had you not returned."
"But he hated me at the time," she points out.
I shrug. "Hate and love often toe the same line. Either way, it was one less issue for me to deal with."
Avery folds her arms, straightening to full height. I know she's trying to be intimidating but given the fact I still have to glance down at her, I can't say I'm fazed.
"Everything is for your benefit," she points out casually.
"We've been over this several times now."
"Is that why you kissed me?"
I'm caught off guard by her accusation, the statement coming out of left field. Something curls and tightly clenches inside me.
"Yes," I answer matter-of-factly. "You were making too much fucking noise."
"I don't believe you," she answers smoothly. "If we had been caught, they probably would have let you go."
A smirk tugs on the corners of my lips. "Not every guard is an acquaintance, Avery. Plus, even if they did let me go—you would still have been in danger."
"So, you did it to protect me," she shoots back, popping a hand on her hip thinking she's got me in some gotcha moment.
"Once again, a raging Grey is not on my agenda," I answer, deflecting her silly thoughts. "I'm responsible for keeping everyone in line, you included."
Her face pulls into a frown, clearly not satisfied with my answer—and dare I say it, a little disappointed.
And that simple little observation makes me feel… guilty.
I've replayed the kiss a dozen times in my mind, telling myself that I needed to do what had to be done in the moment. Like I said to Grey, I have no desire to kiss her again—even with his looming threats.
Despite how much I've convinced myself that it was a tactic, there's still a part of me that craves doing it again.
I have no idea why—and that's the part I hate the most.
My whole existence is centered around staying in control—whether that's a group of people, my mind, or my body. So, why am I struggling with something as ridiculous as a temptation to kiss a woman I've barely even begun to like.
You sure you only just like her? The doubt is frustrating, and I quickly shove it aside, taking back control of the situation.
"Now, the cell phones—"
I fill her in with the rest of the information, ensuring she knows who is allocated to what number on speed dial and helping her set a passcode.
When we're done, I check the time, expecting Grey to return any minute now with Ashwood not far behind. For the first time ever, Grey had volunteered to willingly do a psych session, on the condition that it was with Elsher. I'm oddly excited for him to report back—hopefully by the time Grey is finished with him, Elsher will need a strait-jacket. Or a casket.
To my knowledge, Ashwood was off enjoying the quiet. He should be in his room but I asked Byrone and Jillian to set him up with in-and-out access like the rest of us. I've accepted him as an ally now, so to ensure everyone is available and freely able to move, I've granted him that luxury.
But not Avery.
I don't like the idea of her potentially walking around on her own free-will when she's still a fresh target. For now, keeping her locked up is better than letting Arthur's goons get their grubby hands on her again. At least with the current plan, she's locked away in the evenings, with us watching nearby. And now she has the cell to communicate with us.
We need to call for another meeting to work out the next steps. We don't have long before things shift again. There's too much silence for my liking.
That also means we need to fill the others in on Ashwood's adventure yesterday. But I plan on disclosing that information to Avery once the other two arrive, rather than springing it on Avery during a meeting. She's likely to lose her shit and it's better if we can control that in a more intimate setting.
"Your boyfriends should be here shortly," I say teasingly, sitting down on my usual chair at the end of the chair.
Even in the almost empty room, the air still crackles with electricity. Avery senses it too, lingering next to the table, but she just nods, walking slowly toward me.
She surprises me when she sits on the end of the desk next to my hand, legs dangling off the side.
"So…" she starts, quickly getting stuck on her words.
I roll my eyes, her obvious awkwardness making it clear she has something on her mind. "What? Spit it out."
"If this is your own personal hellhole," she mutters quietly. "Then you knew Lily."
I should have known this question would come up eventually. In fact, I'm surprised it's taken this long for the words to fumble from her pink lips.
"I did," I answer monotonously. "She was a nice woman."
Avery's gaze flickers over to me, frown lines appearing on her forehead. "There's roses everywhere," she points out quietly. "It's almost suffocating. But your room… it's the only one with lilies."
Her eyes stay on me, waiting for some kind of confirmation about the connection she's found. But she doesn't say anything further, waiting for me to make the next move.
"Yes," I finally answer. "It's also why my room is number one. I was the first patient admitted to honor Lily's memory."
I can't help that my tone is now snarky, a darkness clutching at my insides.
"Lily Emerson-Dale," Avery murmurs softly. "She was your mother, wasn't she?"
My hands move so quickly that she lets out a gasp as I grab her knees, stilling her legs from swaying back and forth. I rise to my feet, towering over her seated frame. I scan her face for a reaction, expecting fear. But while her legs have now stilled and her eyes are wide, there's no alarm on her face—just regret and sorrow.
"She was the sole person on this forsaken earth who loved me," I say in a low tone. "And he took her away from me."
"He murdered her," Avery answers, mimicking my thoughts and earlier words.
I nod. "Her so-called mental illness was nothing short of a direct response to his actions. But even in death, she made sure I came out on top over him."
It takes a few seconds for the last dots to align, but when her mouth falls open in a softly spoken 'oh' , I know she's got it.
"It was her money."
I dip my head, closing the distance between our faces until our noses nearly touch. "And greed knows no limit. He's still trying to get his hands on it. Anything to save his crumbling empire."
It's rare that I tell someone this information. Besides Grey and Byrone, no one else here knows about my mother.
Her breath hitches as she becomes aware of our close proximity, but I don't move away. I hold her gaze, watching the emotions dart across her face.
"Dead," she mutters. "Or at least… D-E-D. That's why Grey calls you Deadman ."
My eyebrow shoots up at her revelation, perplexed that we've made the jump from that information to my adored nickname so suddenly.
"Damon Emerson Alexander Dale," I tell her with a smirk, the memory bringing some joy to the situation. "Despite my father's protests, my mother made sure that I carried her family name too."
Avery's gaze dives down, eyes focusing on my lips. I don't think she realizes she's doing it and I inch forward slightly, so close that I can feel her breath on my own lips. She sucks in sharply, eyes quickly moving back up to mine, and I hold it for a few seconds longer, before slowly stepping back.
"Don't lose the cell," I tease, sitting back down in my chair. "I doubt Christopher will be as assisting a second time."
Almost on instinct, her legs start swaying again. "How about a truth for a truth?"
"I don't play those types of games, but alright—I'll bite."
Avery grins, chewing her lip thoughtfully. "What was the deal you cut? For my return?"
I laugh, once again floored by the newly ascertained fact that perhaps I don't have as good a read on her as I thought.
"What do you think it was?" I ask, leaning forward and cupping my hands together on the desk.
She thinks for a moment before confidently answering. "Money."
I nod. "Something along those lines."
It's close enough to the truth that she has no reason to pry for further information. Of course it involves money—but my father is too smart for that. Greedy or not, he still obsesses over something else more… something I gave away that I swore I never would. I still haven't even disclosed the full story to Grey yet. Even though it doesn't concern him, it puts things in jeopardy.
"My turn," she murmurs softly.
"Go on then," I say, entertaining her little game with a wave of my hand.
"What I asked you before…" she pauses. "I liked—"
The rest of her sentence is caught in my throat. Her unspoken words linger in the air between us.
I become painfully aware of my beating heart, eyes narrowing suspiciously as she flushes with embarrassment, looking over at the bookshelves.
Before I can inquire further into her incomplete admission, the library door swings open. Grey struts in, a grin wide on his face and arms outstretched.
"I love a good game," he remarks happily to us both, heading straight to Avery. He grabs the sides of her face in his palms, leaning down to kiss her with an overexaggerated mwah as their mouths separate.
It appears we're all playing dangerous games.
But that's the thing about games—for every winner, there has to be a loser.