Page 37 of Ravage

"Yes, it is. That's whyCirque des Mortsexists. It's a fuck you to my father, stopping the facility from running things smoothly. If the money runs out then the board will be forced to close Lilydale down unless they choose to fund it themselves. They don't want to do that—no one wants to give away their money for nothing in return. They are greedy pigs. But besides that, the people in here shouldn't be punished for my mistakes by being subjected to theirexperiments."

"Your mistakes?" I ask wearily. "How on earth could it possibly be your mistake? You didn't ask for this."

Damon smiles, sadistically. "My mistake was leaving that bastard alive after he killed my mother. And I never make the same mistake twice—I always follow through on my promises."

Chapter 13

Grey

"Christopher," I draw out slowly, resting against the doorframe of his office. "Fancy finding you here."

He glances up from the file on his desk, clocking me and Theo watching him. A laugh rips through my body at the bruise on his cheek and swollen nose, making his light eyes look even more vibrant from the color contrast. For once, he doesn't look put together like the professional he pretends he is. My artwork is splattered all over his face, traces of my assault clear for everyone to see.

I don't pretend to be innocent. I want everyone to know who hurt him.

Better still, I want them to knowwhy.

"Come to hit me some more, Grey?" he asks casually, leaning back in his chair. His gaze flicks over to Theo, raising an eyebrow. "This is an unexpected alliance."

"Amazing that individuals can be brought together for a common cause," I murmur, stepping into his office. "I guess we have you to thank for that."

Christopher smiles, unfazed. "I'll always be the villain to you, won't I? It's easier to blame someone else instead of turning the mirror around."

"Villains recognize other villains," I reply. "I'm fine with what I am.Are you?"

Crossing his arms, he motions with his hand for us to sit down. "I assume this is about Avery," he says, ignoring my question. "How is she?"

I don't sit down and neither does Theo, the two of us glaring down at him in the leather chair.

"How the fuck do you think she is?" I spit out. "Those cunts tortured her."

Surprisingly, a faint look of despair crosses over his face—along with regret.

"I know," Christopher answers, sounding disappointed. "But I heard she's back with the other patients. Is that right?"

"What else have you heard?" Theo asks before I can respond. He cuts to the chase, more interested in getting information rather than stabbing this fucker's hands with a letter opener like I want to do.

Christopher looks over at him, somewhat surprised. I can only assume Theo doesn't speak much to the staff here, let alone show that he cares about anyone. "Unfortunately, not much. Arthur sent a brief email this morning mentioning that two students were back and set to resume their schedules."

"Are you involved in these schedules?" Theo questions.

I raise an eyebrow at Christopher, interested in his answer.

He sighs. "I'm not assigned to Avery if that's what you are asking. As for other patients, I can't disclose that information."

"Since when have you cared about doctor-patient confidentiality?" I scoff.

"If we're going to startthistopic again, may I remind you that it was you and Damon that attempted to steal files?" he shoots back. "And I tried to stop that from happening."

Laughing, I lean forward, resting my hands on the edge of his desk. "And a whole lot of fucking good that did," I say sarcastically. "Her file still got stolen—by Vivian Capello nonetheless. That girl can barely function with her minimal brain cells, yet she was able to break in."

At least Christopher has the nerve to look guilty.

"I'm aware of what she did," he snaps with frustration. "And I've done my best to rectify that. But things aren't always within my control. You know this."

I roll my eyes. "Sure, blame your dear uncle. I'm curious—what has he had to say on the matter?"

The mention of Alexander has Christopher sitting up straight, locking eyes with me. If looks could kill, I'd be in a puddle of blood—pretty much the way I intend to go if I can't be balls-deep in Avery post-nut when I die.

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