24. Chapter 24
Chapter 24
Avery
When we're led into the hall for breakfast, my eyes immediately search our table for the others. I'm happy to find Damon and Grey already sitting there, whispering hastily at each other.
"Good morning," I say cheerfully, sliding into the chair next to Grey.
The two of them look at me with stoic faces, my heart missing a beat as I take in their expressions.
"What's wrong?" I ask, eyes darting between them. "Something's wrong…"
Grey reaches over, grabbing my hand and clenching it. "Don't panic, babe."
My eyes widen. "That's literally always followed by bad news which I know will absolutely make me panic."
"Theo got dragged into Arthur's office last night," Damon interjects, getting straight to the point. "They know he went downstairs. He's currently in solitary confinement."
A sharp pain shoots across my chest while I stare at the two of them closely, hoping for the 'you should see the look on your face' punchline. It doesn't come and I sag in my chair, letting out a shaky breath. "Fuck."
"It's just for a week," Grey says soothingly. "We heard the whole conversation. And as far as we are aware, Theo still has his cell on him. They didn't check him for contraband."
"What the fuck happened?" I whisper in a panic. "What do we do?"
Damon shakes his head. "We can't do anything. They are expecting us to react."
"We can't just leave him there," I argue, on the verge of tears.
Grey squeezes my hand. "Little killer, he will be fine. It's you we need to focus on. Arthur made a comment about him not being able to protect you if he's locked up."
A cold rush of trepidation fills me, and in my head, all I can see is the bucket shaking violently.
"They are going to try something…" I echo their thoughts. "They are trying to separate us to make it easier."
"I think he's just bluffing," Damon says firmly. "But I'm coming with you to your session with Christopher. We need to get cameras set up as soon as possible. In the meantime, Grey and I will work out the ass schedule again."
I frown, alarmed. "Theo was meant to be watching me last night."
"I stood guard," Grey answers. "Damon already has Byrone and Jillian working on overriding the system again—hopefully more permanently. And Leighton is keeping tabs on Arthur's movements."
The only comforting thought is that Theo likes solitary confinement. It's not a punishment for him. But still, being separated at a time like this is dangerous. I'm not worried for my own safety, but theirs.
"How can we be sure they are bluffing?" I ask Damon. "I don't think they are that predictable."
"Theo destroyed the equipment downstairs," he answers. "They have no way of continuing their research without it. Even if they have no moral compass, the contract is pretty strict. It lists all the exhaustive methods of research they are allowed to conduct—there's very little left that they could do at the moment."
My mind switches back to the ice bath and drugs. There are definitely options that don't require equipment, but I see his point. Doctors and researchers like to be thorough. If they can't draw an inference or check multiple variables, it defeats the purpose of method testing.
"I don't like this," I mutter, frustrated. "They will want revenge for us ruining their project."
"Too fucking bad for them," Damon shoots back. "I have no sympathy for them."
"Me either," Grey murmurs, moving his hand to rub my side. "How does it feel today?"
I give him a tight smile. "It's fine—a little itchy."
Damon pushes his tray of food away—pancakes again—and folds his arms. "I'll pay a visit to Arthur. Maybe I can get some information out of him."
"Be careful, please," I plead. "We don't know what they might do."
He looks over at me, a lop-sided smile on his face. "I think they are more scared of us—as they should be."
"Why am I not surprised to see you here?" Dr. Smith mutters with a deadpan expression.
The two of us are sitting across from him, the cousins having a heated stare-off.
"We need your help," I chime in before Damon can speak. "Whittingham took Theo. Are you able to help us with more tech gear?"
Dr. Smith looks surprised, his face softening slightly as he turns to me. "Such as?"
"Portable cameras," Damon answers sharply. "We need more eyes on Arthur and the other staff."
You can see the switch again instantly as his face darkens with frustration. "I'm not your errand runner, Damon. The cells were one thing, but this is entirely different. It's an invasion of privacy."
"Really? We're going to argue that point?" Damon scoffs.
He's right. There's no such thing as privacy in Lilydale. Our files aren't safe, we're locked up like animals—even our showers are monitored. It's not that big of a jump when you're on this side of the fence.
"Please," I ask politely. "We need to make sure they don't pull any more stunts. It's not like we're going to use them to spy on patients. If anything, we're trying to protect them."
An amused look crosses Dr. Smith's face. "The queen protects the king."
I blink slowly, absorbing his words.
Chess.
It dawns on me that perhaps he wasn't spouting random bullshit that day. Maybe he was hinting at something else.
"Checkmate," I murmur back, as Damon stares at me with confusion.
Seconds pass in silence before Dr. Smith starts laughing, relaxing in his chair. "Alright. I'll see what I can do."
As I turn to beam at Damon, I can't help but laugh at the look on his face. For someone who spends his entire life in control, knowing every little bit of information, it's enlightening to see him so perplexed—on the outside of a conversation for once.
He notices me staring and shrugs. "I don't care," he mumbles. "Keep your secrets."
"Oh, don't be upset, Damon," Dr. Smith tsks. "Not everything is about you."
"It technically is," I argue light-heartedly.
Damon smirks in approval, sending his cousin a patronizing glare.
"Don't encourage him, Avery," Dr. Smith mutters. "It will go straight to his head."
It's bizarre seeing new sides to both of these men. It goes to show that everyone has multiple personas, depending on who they are with. I can't help but wonder if this is normal cousin behavior.
Somewhere out there, I have two cousins from my mom's side. I haven't seen them since I was a child, only at the rare family get-together. My memories of extended family are a foggy haze—much like my existence before I came here. But I did always wonder what it would be like to have a sibling or a cousin I was close with.
Paige was the closest family I had after Mom. We all had our demons and battles, so fun adventures and conversation were few and far between. Still, it's nice to imagine what we could have had if life wasn't so shitty.
I picture these two at family events, being competitive as fuck, arguing about rich-boy problems. But let's face it—Damon would have won.
"I'm done with this conversation," Damon announces, standing up. "Avery, I'll be back to get you in forty-five minutes."
"Okay," I answer, watching as he exits the room, closing the door behind him.
When it's just Dr. Smith and I left, we glance at each other, a weird tension between us.
Damon and I have been through several journeys in our relationship—from hating each other, to tolerating, to liking.
And kissing.
The flashback makes me embarrassed, and I'm worried that the psychiatrist in front of me may have mind-reading abilities or be able to see my secrets from my body language. Worse still, he might see what I really think.
I want to kiss him again.
"How are you feeling anyway?" Dr. Smith asks, and I feel relief that I'm not being painfully obvious.
"I'm alright," I mutter. "Just worried about Theo."
He nods, smiling at me. "Good."
"Good?" I question sternly. "It's good that I'm worried they took him away?"
That annoys me. Worry and anxiety are horrible emotions to deal with, yet he seems ecstatic about it.
"It's good that you are feeling something," he replies warmly. "And I think it speaks volume that it's about someone you care for."
"Didn't we establish that I have little self-confidence and that I shouldn't rely on other people?" I sigh, feeling argumentative for no reason other than the fact it's Dr. Smith.
"For validation," he chimes in. "But you also came to Lilydale with the struggle to open up to people. You were worried about people leaving, thus being closed off and withdrawn. It's wonderful to see you have developed multiple relationships."
Multiple relationships?
Fuck. Does he know?
We don't hide it by any means, but still… I'm not sure how I feel about it being brought up in session.
I must be silent for too long because he speaks up, clarifying. "Multiple connections ."
"Right," I mutter, suddenly wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole. "Good to know I'm succeeding in some way. Not a total failure then."
"Would you prefer to talk about the cameras?" he offers. "Or the cells. I'm sure you have questions."
A dry laugh finds its way out as I slouch back into the chair. "I have many, but if I absorb any more information from you, I might implode. Especially after the last session."
He nods. "That's a fair point. It must be confusing for you."
"That's one way to put it. You make it hard to trust you."
A frown stares back at me. "How so?" he asks.
I tilt my head to the side, gazing at him in exasperation. "What side are you batting for? Because you're a member of staff here, yet you seem to silently beg for me to trust you. I can't trust any of the staff here. I got hurt under your watch, and it's clear you and Damon have a hostile familial relationship, but suddenly you want to help us? It doesn't add up."
He leans back, seemingly letting my words sink in. We have a strange relationship too—always pushing and pulling, tethering on the borderline of professional and non-professional. This session is no different, but after having Damon here, it doesn't leave a sour taste in my mouth like it normally would.
"I'm not sure how much you know about our family," he starts. "But wearing a mask was always a requirement."
"So, who are you then?" I question. "Which mask is your real face?"
"Truthfully, both of them. I do care about my position here, and yes, Damon and I have a hostile relationship. But that doesn't mean I'm on Alexander's side."
This voice sounds pained, and it takes me a moment to realize he lost someone too. Lily was his aunt. Maybe he's chained to this place too—just with different colored shackles.
I wouldn't put it past Alexander to blackmail multiple people— multiple family members . He seems the type who would step on anyone to rise to the top.
"Why are you here?" I shoot back. "Working in Lilydale? If you have an Ivy League degree, surely you could have gotten a job anywhere."
Dr. Smith smiles—but it's not the warm, friendly one I'm used to. It's riddled with sadness and secrets, a pain I recognize well.
"Let's just say that Alexander has dirt on my immediate family. At the time, it didn't seem like a terrible idea. He wanted me to keep an eye on Damon, help out with certain tasks. But once he realized I wouldn't go as far as he wanted—"
"He hired Elsher," I finish. "He's a piece of shit."
He doesn't say anything, but his agreement reflects back at me in his eyes.
"There are certainly some lines I won't cross," he says. "Not everyone shares that sentiment."
As my eyes drift over to the cabinet, I feel a tightness in my chest. "Were you trying to protect me from Damon at the start?"
"Yes," he answers without hesitation. "But once I realized you didn't need protecting from him, I stopped. It became obvious that he and his friends cared for you—just in their own way."
I snort, amused. "They certainly had a funny way of showing it."
"We all wear our masks well," he replies. "It just takes time to figure out which face is the real one."