29. Chapter 29
Chapter 29
Avery
Toward the end of free time we meet up with Grey in the library. He fills us in on his day, and to be honest, I didn't even realize the new guy was an issue and on our radar. But Damon and Grey rarely miss things.
While telling us about Rian's unfortunate incident in the bathrooms, I spot Grey's eyes darting down to my neck. He doesn't comment on it, but the frequent glances set alarm bells off in my mind. I haven't checked myself in a mirror since we left Damon's room, but my mind is a whirlwind of flashbacks—his mouth on my neck as he made me explode.
It dawns on me that I might have marks on me, but for once, Grey doesn't appear bothered by it. If anything… he seems amused?
Even though I don't want to get my hopes up, I'm starting to believe his text message was exactly as it seemed—a green light. I practically tortured myself searching for answers and hidden meanings, scared to hurt him. But it was loud and clear as day.
I don't know what has changed for him, but judging by the way he looks at me, it's not his feelings. That's a relief because I don't ever want to lose him. Maybe I'm a little fucked up for liking multiple people, but I can't fight how I really feel. If Theo's sister's story has taught me anything, it's that being untrue to yourself can be damaging. I was already lost before I came here, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I belong. I don't want to lose that.
Because dare I say it… I'm actually starting to like myself. No longer does my father's voice live in my head, feeding me toxic thoughts about my existence. It's been replaced by my own words, fueled by the attention and affection from these men in my life. As much as I struggled with it, I've come to the realization now that I can't be as horrible as people made me out to be because look at how many people care. And that number far outweighs any measurement my father had.
"So, all we know at this stage is Arthur is keeping tabs on Vivian," Damon says. "That's interesting."
"How so?" I ask, swallowing as I turn my attention away from Grey. I can feel my cheeks heating up under his careful gaze, but I do my best to act somewhat normal and composed.
Honestly, I'm falling apart inside.
In a good way.
What happened between us? One minute we were talking, then the next Damon was kissing me. If I thought the kiss downstairs in the morgue was the limit to how mind-blowing it could be, I was very much mistaken. That was just a warm-up. The intensity between us in his room is still making my head spin. It feels like his walls have finally come down and I can see the real Damon.
"Arthur has his attention on Vivian rather than you," Grey answers. "Or, at least, that's what he's wanting us to believe."
"He'd have to know we'd go after Thatcher," Damon adds. "It could be a setup to distract us."
Grey nods in agreement. "I'll instruct Leighton and Andy to continue to watch her."
"We need to protect her," I interject firmly. "She's acting fine, but I know it's probably a disguise."
The two men look at me with sympathetic expressions. If anyone knows and understands what's potentially going on in Vivian's head, it's me.
I hate that we're somewhat bonded by our experience. After all she did to torment me with Sam, leaking my private file to humiliate me, we're now tied together. Seeing her downstairs was the lifeline I needed to fight back. Dr. West had tried to use her as leverage; to convince me I was safe under their care, but I saw it for what it was. And it made me fight back harder. I wanted to protect her, to save her from their torture.
"We'll make sure she's safe," Grey says to me with a soft smile. "And speaking of, I spoke to Theo today."
My heart skips a beat as I look at him with wide eyes. "How?"
"I went down to solitary confinement. We can't get inside the room, but I spoke to him through the door."
"Oh," I mutter, despondent. "Is he okay?"
"He wanted me to tell you that he loves you. And he'll try to message when he can. Apparently, the service is terrible down there."
I nod sadly. "Thank you. It makes me feel a little better that we can check on him."
"Just a few more days," he responds encouragingly, rubbing my arm with his knuckles.
We step forward at the same time, his arms pulling me into his side. Leaning my head against him, I look at Damon, offering a small smile.
"You should tell him," I say gently. "It will help if we're all on the same page."
He looks at me wearily, probably trying to decipher what news I'm hinting for him to share. Obviously, I'm referring to his father and Whittingham, because I would bet money that Grey already knows that something happened between us thanks to the state of my neck.
"Alexander," he starts, an angry undertone to his voice as he refers to his father by name. "And Arthur. We've run into a bit of a situation."
Grey frowns but motions for him to continue. "Go on."
Damon takes a moment, letting out a frustrated sigh. "I should have told you when you asked, but the deal I cut for Avery's return was offering up a two percent share. He's now the majority stakeholder. Unfortunately, he's now able to make decisions without my permission. He and the board are filing an urgent court order to access the trust fund. The judge is his friend."
"So, he's going to get access," Grey mimics darkly. "He'll blow through the funds."
"I know," Damon agrees, annoyed. "The federal contract is at risk of being terminated if Lilydale doesn't replace the broken equipment. He'll be able to do it if he has access to the money."
Grey's arm tightens around me, almost as if he's trying to permanently attach me to his side at the mention of the experiments. "It just means we'll need to find another way to stop them."
"We might not be able to."
I scan Damon's face, spotting the guilt. I want to comfort him so badly, but I know right now, he'll be trying to focus on ideas.
"Of course we'll be able to," Grey replies confidently. "We will figure it out. We won't let those bastards win."
Damon opens his mouth to speak but the familiar sound signaling the end of free time cuts him off. He frowns, glancing over at me.
"Keep your cell on you. We'll charge them tomorrow, but for now, we'll regroup by text message. Grey's on watch duty tonight so he'll be close by."
"Ass duty," I correct playfully, unable to hide a grin as Grey reaches down and grabs me to emphasize his agreement.
I'm in line on my way back from the showers when I spot two guards walking toward our group, their faces tight with intent.
When our guard stops, we all pause behind him, watching as they whisper to each other. One of the guards looks down the line, my heart stopping when his eyes fall and stay on me.
"White!" I hear my name being called, our guard turning and pointing to me. "With them." He motions to the other guards, my throat seizing up as I slowly step out of line.
My fight-or-flight reflex is definitely kicking in, running through a hundred ways to potentially get out of another kidnapping. We had every single scenario covered—except for shower time because it seemed unlikely that I would be targeted due to being in a group full of witnesses.
I approach them hesitantly, quickly looking over my shoulder at the rest of the group. Maybe one of them can sound the alarm somehow, but there's no one in line close enough to Cirque des Morts.
What I wouldn't give to have Jillian in my group.
Before I rip my gaze back to the guards, I find Eliana's eyes, her soft features curling into a supportive smile.
Maybe… just maybe.
There's no time to return the gesture, my feet pausing as I stand in front of the guards.
"Mr. Whittingham would like a word," one says, jerking his head to the other end of the corridor.
They don't wait for a response, turning and walking with my arms in their rough grasp. I have no choice but to follow as they drag me along, taking deep breaths to calm myself.
A few minutes later, I find myself at the edge of Whittingham's desk, his cold, dead eyes boring into me.
It's fairly dark in here, only the light from his desk lamp and a lit citrus smelling candle casting any illumination. I nearly gag as I look carefully at the candle, spotting a picture of the receptionist taped on the glass candle holder—a gift from her apparently.
"Ms. White," he greets disinterestedly. "I trust you're doing well since your episode."
Unprecedented anger washes through me at his words. Just like how he announced my arrival back to the other patients, he's making me out to be the problem.
It's insulting. We both know what really happened downstairs, yet he pretends I'm a martyr to my mental health battles.
"You mean since you drugged me and threw me into the hands of doctors to torture?" I snap back. "I'm feeling peachy-fucking-fine."
He looks unfazed, shuffling some paperwork on his desk. "Well, needless to say, it appears their methods weren't very successful."
Okay, I was wrong. Pretending it didn't happen was bad enough, but to insinuate that I'm unfixable despite what I went through is a whole other level.
"I guess that's why those particular methods were largely banned in medical practice," I fire back. "But if you disagree, feel free to volunteer yourself."
His eyes snap up to mine, the hard exterior finally cracking.
I'm playing with fire—I shouldn't piss off the one person who could hurt me the most, but I can't seem to stop it.
Violent thoughts and images flash through my mind quickly, overwhelming me. My hands curl into fists, trembling as I try desperately to calm myself like Grey would be able to.
It's shaking again. The bucket is full, and I take two deep breaths, relaxing my shoulders as I picture Damon in my mind.
Control your emotions. Stay in control. Don't let him win by setting you off.
"I'm not the one who killed their father," Whittingham murmurs. "But I wouldn't expect rationality from someone like you ."
Don't lose control, Avery.
"Someone like me?" I repeat, gob smacked. "Where the fuck do you get your audacity?"
"Do try to better yourself, Ms. White," he replies, ignoring me. "It's quite childish."
I shake my head, knuckles turning white. When I don't say anything further, he folds his arms, a sly smirk making its way onto his slimy face.
"You've been assigned duty for the next week. You and Ms. Kennedy will be assisting Dr. Elsher with administrative tasks."
All I can see is red, unable to piece together who my companion will be. Instead, I only focus on the fact that I'm being placed with Elsher. Even a second with him is a second too long.
He's the other monster in my nightmares. It wasn't just Whittingham that instigated my kidnapping, but the psychiatrist too.
It's clear this is retaliation for being switched back to Dr. Smith's patient list, and no doubt my last encounter with Elsher where I fought back against his snarky remarks.
They are separating us.
First, they took Theo, sending him to solitary confinement for a week. Then, Alexander dug his claws into Damon. Now, they are coming after me, forcing me to be on duty, away from the guys every day, with one of the people who helped to kidnap me.
Damon and Grey were right—they are going to make a move soon.
Is this that time? Am I going to be taken right now? Tomorrow?
I can't do it again. I can't go through that a second time.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't fucking do it. I won't!
My hand moves on its own, swinging out at the items on his desk before I can realize what is happening. The stationery canister and candle go flying, and for a handful of seconds, both of us stare in shock and disbelief as a piece of paper catches alight.
Whittingham is the first to react, grabbing a jacket from the coat rack in the corner and slapping it over the small flame to fan it out. It quickly extinguishes, but the sight of fire brings new memories to the surface. I stand frozen, no longer seeing him behind the desk, but my empty bedroom as flames lick the doorway, blocking an escape that I don't want.
Somewhere below the roar of the fire, I can hear my father's voice, screaming.
Hands grab me roughly from behind, snapping me out of my trance. I jolt, swinging my head to find the guard holding onto me. I'm back in the present, eyes turning back to Whittingham as he glares angrily at me, face red.
"Consider yourself lucky, Ms. White! Fortunately for you, solitary confinement is currently occupied. Otherwise, I'd be sending you down there right this second."