Page 55 of Ravage

I roll my eyes, her obvious awkwardness making it clear she has something on her mind. "What? Spit it out."

"If this is your own personal hellhole," she mutters quietly. "Then you knew Lily."

I should have known this question would come up eventually. In fact, I'm surprised it's taken this long for the words to fumble from her pink lips.

"I did," I answer monotonously. "She was a nice woman."

Avery's gaze flickers over to me, frown lines appearing on her forehead. "There's roses everywhere," she points out quietly. "It's almost suffocating. But your room… it's the only one with lilies."

Her eyes stay on me, waiting for some kind of confirmation about the connection she's found. But she doesn't say anything further, waiting for me to make the next move.

"Yes," I finally answer. "It's also why my room is number one. I was the first patient admitted to honor Lily's memory."

I can't help that my tone is now snarky, a darkness clutching at my insides.

"Lily Emerson-Dale," Avery murmurs softly. "She was your mother, wasn't she?"

My hands move so quickly that she lets out a gasp as I grab her knees, stilling her legs from swaying back and forth. I rise to my feet, towering over her seated frame. I scan her face for a reaction, expecting fear. But while her legs have now stilled and her eyes are wide, there's no alarm on her face—just regret and sorrow.

"She was the sole person on this forsaken earth who loved me," I say in a low tone. "And he took her away from me."

"He murdered her," Avery answers, mimicking my thoughts and earlier words.

I nod. "Her so-called mental illness was nothing short of a direct response to his actions. But even in death, she made sure I came out on top over him."

It takes a few seconds for the last dots to align, but when her mouth falls open in a softly spoken'oh', I know she's got it.

"It was her money."

I dip my head, closing the distance between our faces until our noses nearly touch. "And greed knows no limit. He's still trying to get his hands on it. Anything to save his crumbling empire."

It's rare that I tell someone this information. Besides Grey and Byrone, no one else here knows about my mother.

Her breath hitches as she becomes aware of our close proximity, but I don't move away. I hold her gaze, watching the emotions dart across her face.

"Dead," she mutters. "Or at least… D-E-D. That's why Grey calls youDeadman."

My eyebrow shoots up at her revelation, perplexed that we've made the jump from that information to my adored nickname so suddenly.

"Damon Emerson Alexander Dale," I tell her with a smirk, the memory bringing some joy to the situation. "Despite my father's protests, my mother made sure that I carried her family name too."

Avery's gaze dives down, eyes focusing on my lips. I don't think she realizes she's doing it and I inch forward slightly, so close that I can feel her breath on my own lips. She sucks in sharply, eyes quickly moving back up to mine, and I hold it for a few seconds longer, before slowly stepping back.

"Don't lose the cell," I tease, sitting back down in my chair. "I doubt Christopher will be as assisting a second time."

Almost on instinct, her legs start swaying again. "How about a truth for a truth?"

"I don't play those types of games, but alright—I'll bite."

Avery grins, chewing her lip thoughtfully. "What was the deal you cut? For my return?"

I laugh, once again floored by the newly ascertained fact that perhaps I don't have as good a read on her as I thought.

"What do you think it was?" I ask, leaning forward and cupping my hands together on the desk.

She thinks for a moment before confidently answering. "Money."

I nod. "Something along those lines."

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