Page 21 of Ravage

Damon

I can't help but notice that her legs shake as we hastily head toward the exit. But, for whatever reason, she chooses to stay quiet. Part of me waits for her to comment on it but nothing comes. I can only assume that she's hurting—but the idea of freedom is giving her the second wind she needs to power through the pain.

Wasting no time, I stab my knife into the access pad, dislodging it like the one outside her room. Avery watches on in silence, hovering close by.

"I need you to move quickly," I tell her, throwing the remains of the security system down to the ground. "The guards will be on their way. As soon as we can get you back upstairs, you'll be safer."

"Where's Theo?" she asks, hesitating for a moment. "And Grey?"

Against my better judgment, I pause, looking at her curiously. There's something off about her tone, almost like a pained cry behind her words.

"They are searching the other side of the facility for you," I reply sharply. "Together—believe it or not."

She nods slowly, frustration creeping over me. I don't have time to play therapist to her right now, but I'm also trying to be mindful of the fact that she's been through hell. I don't know where her mind is right now but we don't have the advantage here. There's enough dodgy professionals upstairs to help unravel that clusterfuck, but we have to get out of here alive first.

When she doesn't answer, I squeeze her wrist. "Look, I know that whatever happened down here was fucked up. I know you're in a difficult place. But right now, you need to put all that aside and help me to get you out of here. Otherwise, all that pain… all of our efforts will be for nothing."

Avery looks up slowly, eyes watering slightly. She swallows, giving me a small nod. "I know."

It's small but it's the confirmation I need, my body dragging her behind me as I pull us out into the dark corridor. I have no idea if I'm hurting her with my grip but all I know is we are facing a losing battle with time. I have no key card which will slow us down. I'm also alone without backup, meaning whatever force Arthur has guarding the place will be solely my responsibility—all while keeping her safe.

When the stairwell door comes into view, I exhale in relief. But before I can reach it, three bodies come flying around the corner in front of us. I halt, swinging my hand out to Avery's chest, stopping her in her tracks.

The guards look almost perplexed to have caught us too, taking a few seconds to gather themselves. I watch as their hands fall to the guns on their belts, one of them stepping forward with a straightened posture.

"Remove your mask," he demands.

I shake my head. "No," I reply calmly.

He stumbles for a second, not expecting my reply. "Do it. Or I'll shoot you."

Avery's hand suddenly grips my upper arm, moving closer to me. I frown to myself as I notice her step a few inches ahead, like she's trying to protectme, and I hastily shove her backwards with the back of my hand.

"I wouldn't try," I warn him, slipping my hand unnoticed into my hoodie pocket to grab the knife. "Consider this your only warning. Go back to your stations and I might let you live."

The guards laughs, looking to the others for support. "Really?" he questions, drawing his gun.

Pulling the knife out, I don't bother to hide it from them, the blade resting against the top of my leg. "Really."

"You brought a knife to a gunfight?" one of the other guards taunts. "You're outnumbered in every sense."

"Not really," I say coolly, stepping forward. "But I'm a big believer infuck around and find out."

The other two draw their guns as well. Behind me, I sense Avery trying to move forward again, and I quickly cut her off by side-stepping to shield her.

Slowly, I use my free hand to lift my mask, watching as recognition crosses their faces. I know the first rule of being incognito is to stay hidden, but these three won't live to spill our secrets. They deserve to see the face of the man that kills them.

I want them to see me.

Two of them at least have the decency to look uncertain and rattled, arms lowering slightly as they look to their unofficial leader for guidance. I'm not familiar with him myself, but I can tell he knows who I am. The hesitation lingers on his face, gun still pointed at my chest.

"I'll give you until the count of three to make up your mind," I start.

"And what decision are we making?" he growls.

"Whether you live or die today."

He raises an eyebrow, his brown eyes glaring into mine. I know that expression well—it's the same one my father gives me. Trepidation but determined. He's afraid of me, scared of what I can do—but with a dire need to be better than me.

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