Page 97 of Echoes

I don't know what possesses me to do it. I don't even think about it in advance.

Her arguing, her defiance, her caring, the way she grabs my arm—it snaps something inside of me.

And before I can stop myself or realize it's happening, I do the unthinkable.

I kiss her.

Chapter 31

Grey

"You're being very strange this evening, little killer."

Avery glances over at me as we walk down the deserted corridor, exhaustion written all over her face. Part of me waits for her to deny it, to tell me she's fine.

"I know."

My brows crease together as we cross the entrance threshold to Arthur's office. It's late—well past midnight, so thankfully, he's not here. If he was, I'd probably gut him, chop his fingers off, and poke Avery with them until she tells me the issue.

She's been acting weird ever since free time. All I know is her and Damon went downstairs to look for Vivian's body and came up empty handed.

When we went back to our rooms for the evening, Damon instructed me to search Whittingham's office for clues. We just had to wait until he was gone for the day and the guards changed shifts for the night.

Even when I collected her from her room, she was staring at the ceiling from the bed, in a thought-filled daze.

The access pad beeps and flashes green, and I pull the door open, holding it for her. Avery steps into the office, eyes scanning the darkened room.

I grab her hand, leading her further inside, flicking on the light switch.

"What are we looking for exactly?" she asks, walking around the desk.

"Anything unusual," I reply, skimming through the discarded paperwork on the desk. Spotting the letter opener, I pick it up, jamming it into the lock of the desk drawers, breaking them. I don't give a shit if he knows we've been in here—I hope the thought terrifies him.

Though, if I'm being honest, he's probably expecting it. I don't think we'll find anything. I'm sure he's got whatever we are looking for hidden somewhere else. Perhaps we should check Teddy's desk on the way back out.

"That doesn't narrow it down," Avery mutters softly, lingering by a bookshelf as she checks the books.

"You're starting to worry me," I say. "What's going on?"

She pauses, falling silent. Slowly, she turns to look at me, face pained.

"Something happened today," she mentions, appearing uncomfortable. "And I don't want to keep it from you. But I also don't want to upset you."

Straightening up, my nerves start buzzing. I twirl the letter opener in my hand, leaning against the desk.

"Now you're worrying me. You can tell me anything, little killer. You know that."

I can see the way her body tenses up, stressed. She's running through words in her mind, trying to figure out the best way to say whatever is on her mind.

I'm growing impatient with waiting, the anxiety eating me alive. But I force myself to wait, to give her the opportunity to tell me on her own time.

"When Damon and I were in the morgue," she starts, voice shaking slightly. "The new guards nearly caught us. I pulled him into the storage room to hide."

"Right," I respond sharply, wondering where this is going.

Did Damon hurt her somehow? I thought he and I had an understanding now. I thought he was starting to tolerate her.

"We ended up hiding in a casket," she murmurs, face scrunched up. "They didn't find us, thankfully."

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