Page 59 of Ravage

I don't make an effort to follow him, instead sneaking back out of the hall to loiter outside the door. When the coast is clear, I whip my cell out of my pocket, writing a quick text.

As soon as I hit send, I shove it back into my pocket, heading back inside the hall. Up ahead, I watch as Avery stiffens with confusion, before she recognizes where the vibration came from. Her chin dips toward her chest, and I know she's glancing under the table at my message.

Suddenly she looks back up, eyes scanning the hall to find me. When our eyes meet, I give her a quick nod, heading to join the queue of people for food.

I replay my own words over and over, tossing up between feeling uncomfortable and feeling accomplished. But this is the right thing to do, I know it.

Little Killer – You are my absolute everything. Everyone deserves the chance to love you too. So, if your heart belongs to three people, then that's okay. I'm not going anywhere, no matter what happens.

Chapter 21

Avery

It's a whole different feeling being able to walk freely through Lilydale, doing things that other patients can't.

Even more overwhelming is the power to tell the staff you need something and them just say okay.

I mean, Damon is beside me, lingering close by, but he instructed me to handle it. They might have been reluctant to do so if I was alone, but I can't help but feel a little giddy at having a drop of authority.

Tony comes stalking back over, his stained chef apron hanging around his waist. He taps a notepad with his pen, glancing at us with mild-irritation.

"What do you want?" he asks, ready to write.

I turn my head to look at Damon. He gives a small nod, gesturing for me to speak up.

A meeting has been called for tonight and while Grey is off informing everyone, he had proudly volunteered for me to handle the food and beverages. It was a little exciting at first, but now that I need to make executive decisions, I'm tongue-tied.

All the pastCirque des Mortsmeetings have been filled with delicious meats, grazing foods, and desserts. I have no idea if Grey specifically requested them or just suggested a type of dish to be inspired by. As the seconds tick by, I can tell Tony is getting annoyed with my silence.

"Pizza," I finally say, blurting out the first food that springs to mind. "A few actually. Pineapple on one."

Tony starts making notes, giving me more confidence.

"And some type of antipasto platter. In fact, if we could get a variety of cheeses, that would be nice."

He looks up from his notepad, clearly thrown off by the change in menu. "Cured meats, cheeses, olives. Things like that?"

I nod, starting to lose my nerve a little. "And for dessert, peach cobbler. Do we need alcohol?" I ask Damon, hesitantly.

"Grey Goose, whatever IPAs you have left, and my usual whiskey," he answers.

Tony nods, stabbing the notepad with emphasis on his full stop. "Got it. I'll have it ready at the usual time. We'll leave it on the bench for you."

"Actually," I interject before I realize what I'm doing. "I think it would be better if you brought it straight over to the library this time."

It's clear this isn't a method of delivery that has been used before. Tony looks at me in disbelief, at my audacity to give him extra work off the clock. I expect Damon to say something to me, to tell me that's not how this works, but instead he answers calmly. "That's a good idea. We'll say eight sharp—it's earlier than usual but you'll only need to stay back an hour longer."

My head turns to follow his voice, smiling. Having him back me up means everything. I'm not trying to be difficult to the staff or make them feel inferior but ever since I was drugged, I'm terrified of people slipping things into my food or drink.

I wouldn't put it past Whittingham to sneak into the kitchen and drug our food if he got wind of the meeting. It would be the perfect opportunity—taking down the entire society in one go.

Tony sighs, partly rolling his eyes. "Fine. See you then."

He stalks off without another word, clearly pissed at us. I know that's our cue to leave so I turn, walking through the doors to the hall. Damon is quick to follow and I pause to let him catch up.

"Was that okay?" I ask nervously. "I don't know what I'm doing."

"It was good," he says. "Don't worry about him. He despises Arthur as much as we do."

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