Page 83 of Echoes

"Why the hell am I not surprised?" Grey murmurs, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes trail over my posture, bent over with my face in Theo's lap.

"I can do you next if you want," I laugh.

He pretends to sigh, walking into the room. "Maybe next time, little killer. Then again the scar on my palm is a nice warmup."

Taking my eyes off Theo's skin for a moment, I peer at Grey over my shoulder as he takes a seat on the ground. "You did that yourself," I point out, amused.

"True," he says happily. "But I'd still love for you to mark me."

"What the hell is with your obsession with me stabbing you?" I tease, shaking my head as I finish the tattoo. "There—all done."

Theo looks down, nodding. "Nicely done, Aves."

I freeze, locking eyes with him as he gives me a knowing look. But behind his expression, there's also the question as he waits for the confirmation that it's okay.

My face breaks into a smile. It's been too long since I've heard someone call me that. It makes me think of better times—or gives me the hope that good times are still a possibility.

"Shit, there's the bell," Grey grumbles, picking up Theo's shirt like it's contaminated and tossing it to him.

"Thanks," Theo says, standing up as he pulls it on.

I get to my feet, brushing off my shorts and noticing little black dots of ink staining the material. "Fuck."

"Don't worry about it," Grey says, brushing my hair back to place a soft kiss on my neck. "Did you want me to come see you tonight?"

"If you like," I smile. "But don't go out of your way. I'm also happy to sleep."

He grins at me, leading the three of us back toward the hall. "I'll be there, little killer. Just try to stop me."

Chapter 27

Avery

The next morning I'm woken up by a new guard—a quiet, older man in his late forties, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here. He barely speaks to me, not even manhandling me like the other guards usually do.

It's nottooearly thankfully, and surprisingly, I'm not taken to Mr. Whittingham's office.

"Good morning, Ms. White!"

I blink three times at Dr. Markel before I finally repeat the words back at him. Of course he's this chirpy in the mornings—when is he not?

"You've been assigned to my room this morning. It's not too strenuous, just some light cleaning and organizing."

"Fab."

"And you'll share the task with another patient. I don't like leaving it all to one person—it can be a little overwhelming."

"Right…"

Humming happily, he leads me through the side door in his office. I'm surprised to see his other room for the first time. In the corner is an old wooden desk, filed with paperwork andfiles. There's no sign of technology in sight, except for an old fax machine that's gathering dust in the adjacent corner.

Along the side wall is a medicine cabinet with the key dangling out, and immediately, my face twitches.

Maybe he takes the key with him when he's not in the rooms…

Seriously though—what is with these medical professionals? Did they hire from a catalog or something?

There's ruffling from underneath Dr. Markel's desk and when a head pops up to look at us, my mouth falls open.

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