Page 68 of Ravage

Whittingham looks like he's been slapped with a fish, mouth agape. Of course, he has the evidence right in front of him. But that still doesn't mean anything. That's why I'm here and not in police custody. Because the only evidence they currently have is tied to their secret operation. If he wants me to go down for a crime, it would mean revealing their source of income.

While I have no doubt the contract is legitimate, they still have a reputation on the line. If people found out theirwonderfulrehabilitation center was just a ruse to cover up inhumane treatment of victims let down by the system, they would lose everything.

Whittingham's mistake is banking on the fact that I won't see through his bullshit.

Sadly, that's not the case.

"We have video evidence," he throws back, flinging one of the photos toward me.

I casually pick it up, smiling at the still. Dr. West is strapped into the chair, my hand on the machine,accidentallyincreasing the voltage.

Ahh… good times.

"Can I keep this?" I ask warmly. "Souvenir?"

"You're disgusting!" he yells, jolting to his feet. "Have you no decency?"

My eyes darken as my smile vanishes. Instantly, my change in demeanor hits him, his feet taking two steps back. "You want to argue aboutdecency?" I ask in a low tone. "Really? How about we start with the fact that you are torturing individuals here for money?"

His eyes flash—but I suspect it's just confirmation. It's obvious I would know since I'm with Avery often. Still, he seems troubled by my knowledge.

"You have no idea what you are talking about," he sneers. "You've left me no choice—either you confess and spend a week in solitary confinement, or I report this to the authorities."

Smiling, I lean forward, placing my hands on his desk. He steps further back, a look of concern appearing on his face.

"You decide, you old washed-up cunt. Because I don't play these games. You and I both know you have nothing in your hands. But if you even think about coming after anyone I love, you better run fast. If I get my hands on you, I'll gut your Achilles tendons so you never run again while ripping out your tongue with my bare hands so that no one has to ever listen again to the bullshit that comes out of your mouth."

A moment of fear crosses his face before he quickly composes himself, straightening his jacket. He clears his throat, motioning for the guard.

"Take him to solitary confinement. And if he tries anything, you have permission to shoot him."

I laugh loudly, startling both of them. A gun presses into my lower back, and I turn my head to send an amused look to the guard. "Do I scare you, little one?"

The guard feigns confidence, jabbing it harder into my back. "Move."

Sending Whittingham a quick wink, I head toward the door, the gun still pressed to my spine. Just as we start to exit, his gravelly voice calls out, making me see red.

"You can't protect her all the time," he taunts. "Let's see you try when you are locked up."

I'm jolted forward by the gun, the guard sensing my growing rage. Against my better judgment, I keep walking, despite the urge to turn around and slaughter him.

Because it's only for the simple fact that I pressed the speed dial on the cell hidden in my pocket, calling Damon before I entered the office, knowing that he just heard everything.

Chapter 24

Avery

When we're led into the hall for breakfast, my eyes immediately search our table for the others. I'm happy to find Damon and Grey already sitting there, whispering hastily at each other.

"Good morning," I say cheerfully, sliding into the chair next to Grey.

The two of them look at me with stoic faces, my heart missing a beat as I take in their expressions.

"What's wrong?" I ask, eyes darting between them. "Something's wrong…"

Grey reaches over, grabbing my hand and clenching it. "Don't panic, babe."

My eyes widen. "That's literally always followed by bad news which I know will absolutely make me panic."

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