Page 30 of Exile
Finally, he relents, rolling his eyes with a heavy sigh. "I'll see what I can find out. But be on guard. Now that Damon is en route to return…"
"Arthur and Alexander will be getting ready to strike," I finish confidently. "I'm aware of this, Christopher. Give me a little credit."
He nods. "Unfortunately, I'm not sure where the patients are."
"Yes, you do," I point out. "We all know where they are and with whom. But the assholes have upgraded the system to ensure we can't rescue them short of knocking walls down."
"This was never meant to happen," he mutters quietly, and it's almost like a statement to himself.
This time, I raise my eyebrow. "Really? Did you really think that Alexander had a personality change and would genuinely want to help people? Be smart about this, Christopher. Your whole career has been a sham. You were just a pawn in his game—someone to use for his benefit."
I half-expect him to argue, to disagree, but he doesn't. Disappointment shines back at me, and for a brief moment, I feel a little sorry for the bastard.
"You're right," he says, defeatedly. "That doesn't change what's happening."
"It doesn't. But you can't just sit back and let them pull this bullshit. Track down those forms and see what you can find out about Arthur's beloved extra-access card. We suspect that it's the key to getting downstairs. Teddy used to have a copy too."
Christopher nods slowly, voice gaining traction again. "Alright. Leave it with me."
"Put it in harder," I growl. "Thrust it in. Put your damn back into it."
"I'm fucking trying," Theo snaps. "Why don't you do something instead of standing there and attempting to look pretty? By the way, it's not working."
I grin. "That's because I'm already fucking gorgeous, brother-in-law. Even you aren't immune to my charms."
Theo stops, lifting the blade to my neck. "Want to make a bet? I can give you another little scar."
My eyes dance in amusement, the cold blade pushing against my throat. Anyone else in this situation would be terrified. But me? This shit is the stuff dreams are made of.
Theo doesn't look away, the two of us staring straight at each other with matching expressions. I raise my eyebrows, wiggling them. "Come on then. I'm waiting. Impale me on your knife."
"You sick fuck," he grumbles, pulling it away and jamming it into the side of the access pad again.
"Says the man who fucked Avery in a mortuary cabinet," I tease. "Didn't know necrophilia was your thing."
Theo continues messing with the metal access pad, attempting to find weakness in the structure. "I'd fuck Avery on your dead body."
"If she's naked, I'd die a happy man."
I start working on the other side, annoyed when it doesn't give. We're at the door near the stairwell, sussing out the new access pad in closer detail.
Both of us have discovered that punching it is fruitless, so we've resorted to the old faithful of trying to rip the cords out. Except, the metal is practically fused to the hard walls. There's an extra layer of steel securing the panel to the reinforced concrete walls to protect the box. The screws affixing it are tiny, making it near impossible to get the tips of our blades into.
"Maybe we just need to kick the door down," Theo suggests, gripping his handle tightly.
"Been there, tried it," I murmur, remembering how much it sucked trying to break through the door in my room.
"Blowtorch?"
"Hey," I drag out. "That's not a bad idea. Maybe Christopher can sneak us in a blowtorch."
Theo cocks an eyebrow. "I was joking. Somehow I doubt that it would work."
He's right. Cell phones are one thing but dear old Chris bringing in tools and machinery? Likely to be seen and confiscated by the old cunt known as Arthur since Christopher can barely keep a straight face and act inconspicuous.
I toss the knife, the blade reflecting and dazzling in the light as it spins before I catch it in the palm of my hand. "We'll just have to find a new Plan C if we can't get hold of an access card."
"We just gut Whittingham and steal his card?"
