Page 16 of Exile
"Whitface," he chuckles, not seeming like the self-proclaimed professional I've come to know over the past few months. "I'll see what I can do."
I nod, pleased with…myself. If I had more time and patience, I’d psychoanalyzehim.It’s becoming clear that even the most put-together individuals wear a mask and pretend to be fully functioning adults. I have a strange feeling that Dr. Smith hasn't been completely honest with us, or me, but that's not important right now.
We need to be on our guard, ready for their next move. I know revenge and war is coming.
And we'll be ready for them.
My room is just how I left it. Except something is amiss.
There's no fingers in roses or belongings missing, but I can just sense that someone has been in here. Maybe it's the lingering scent of old spice or a crease on the blanket, but regardless, I can sense in my gut that someone combed through my personal space.
It makes me angry, beyond pissed off that they continue to violate us in every way possible. If they were searching for clues or contraband, I doubt anything was useful. We're smarter than that. Everything we need is locked inside Damon's mind—which is a weapon in itself I've come to realize.
With nothing else to do, I decide to attempt to take a nap, convinced that I'm stuck in here until at least tomorrow. I'm completely spent, even though my mind circles back and forth in agonizing loops. I'm impatient for updates, ready to go positively feral to find Theo and Grey. At least if I'm asleep, time will move faster, instead of this paralyzing loop with no exit that I seem to be stuck in.
When the door swings open, startling me awake, I jolt upright instantly. My heart bashes violently in my chest while adrenaline rushes through me as if I'm under attack. It takes me a few seconds to gauge what I'm actually seeing, almost convinced that I'm dreaming.
Gray eyes soften as they focus on me, and I launch myself out of the bed, feet barely touching the floor as I leap into Grey's awaiting, wide arms.
"Little killer," he murmurs into my neck, unfazed that I'm near straggling his neck in a tight hug.
"You're okay," I say relieved, catching sight of Dr. Smith over his shoulder. He gives me a small smile and nod before continuing on down the hall, leaving us alone.
Grey places his hands on my waist, keeping hold of me as he steps back slightly to scan my face with wary eyes. "Are you alright? How's Damon?"
The question is full of softly spoken urgency and it makes my chest ache. Cupping his face, I give him a reassuring smile. "He's good. Still stubborn as hell but definitely alive, kicking, and ready to slaughter Alexander."
Relief floods his expression for only a split second before he smashes his lips to mine. It feels so good to be home in his arms, my chest melting into his as I kiss him back with just as much need.
I nearly lost them. I nearly lost being able to dothis.
Our intensities match perfectly, affirming his desperation was just as destroying as mine was. Time has finally brought us back together, all our emotions releasing at once in each other's arms.
Swinging me around effortlessly, I barely feel my back colliding with the wall, our mouths not breaking apart for a single millisecond. I feel his fingers leave bruises on my hips from his tight grip and I relish the safety his protective, strong hold provides. I love when he marks me, especially as his tongue reminds me of all the things it can do.
Finally coming up for air reluctantly, Grey rests his forehead on mine. We stay still, savoring the moment for a little longer until slowly, he retreats.
"Come on, pretty girl. There's still one more stop I need to make."
Chapter 7
Grey
Seeing Avery in person is even better than the rush I get after slitting a neck wide open. Warmth that fills you so thoroughly that you want to bathe in it and let every primal, unhinged instinct take over.
It's a mystery as to why Arthur decided to turn all the systems back online. I can only assume the authorities have left so there's no more need for a big song and dance. He also knows and fears that the longer we're left caged and prodded, the harder it will be to subdue us.
Although things are back to normal—somewhat, anyway—we can't become complacent. Arthur is well aware that this means we can move freely from the rooms. Once the security systems came back online, it only took Byrone and Jillian mere seconds to override access. I bet Arthur vacated the premises well before that, likely hiding somewhere away from here until things settle.
Changing the code was a nice touch though. Christopher has been oddly helpful, providing me with the new code as soon as I was released from solitary confinement. Alexanderand Lily's wedding anniversary? Nothing says murder and mayhem like a personal touch.
My patience is wearing thin at their antics. I've imagined ripping out their spines with my bare hands more times than Hallman could count.
I'm curious who picked the new code—whether it was gutless Arthur or Alexander the Great Cunt. I can just imagine the two of them having a good laugh at our expense—another dose of dead mother reminders for Damon.
Given our latest news about nuptials, I can guarantee it's a tribute to Damon and Avery. Alexander loves sending messages, and while he has always refused to admit directly that he murdered Lily, it's implied in his methods. To the docile, naïve faceless specimens of the world, Lily Emerson-Dale died of an overdose. However if even one person was worth their paycheck, they'd be able to see that the toxicology report was inconclusive, vastly different from the initial findings to reflect a large quantity of narcotics and sleeping pills in her system. An error, they called it.
Money can buy you anything in this world—even murder.
