Page 70 of Ravage

He's right. There's no such thing as privacy in Lilydale. Our files aren't safe, we're locked up like animals—even our showers are monitored. It's not that big of a jump when you're on this side of the fence.

"Please," I ask politely. "We need to make sure they don't pull any more stunts. It's not like we're going to use them to spy on patients. If anything, we're trying to protect them."

An amused look crosses Dr. Smith's face. "The queen protects the king."

I blink slowly, absorbing his words.

Chess.

It dawns on me that perhaps he wasn't spouting random bullshit that day. Maybe he was hinting at something else.

"Checkmate," I murmur back, as Damon stares at me with confusion.

Seconds pass in silence before Dr. Smith starts laughing, relaxing in his chair. "Alright. I'll see what I can do."

As I turn to beam at Damon, I can't help but laugh at the look on his face. For someone who spends his entire life in control, knowing every little bit of information, it's enlightening to see him so perplexed—on the outside of a conversation for once.

He notices me staring and shrugs. "I don't care," he mumbles. "Keep your secrets."

"Oh, don't be upset, Damon," Dr. Smith tsks. "Not everything is about you."

"It technically is," I argue light-heartedly.

Damon smirks in approval, sending his cousin a patronizing glare.

"Don't encourage him, Avery," Dr. Smith mutters. "It will go straight to his head."

It's bizarre seeing new sides to both of these men. It goes to show that everyone has multiple personas, depending on who they are with. I can't help but wonder if this is normal cousin behavior.

Somewhere out there, I have two cousins from my mom's side. I haven't seen them since I was a child, only at the rare family get-together. My memories of extended family are a foggy haze—much like my existence before I came here. But I did always wonder what it would be like to have a sibling or a cousin I was close with.

Paige was the closest family I had after Mom. We all had our demons and battles, so fun adventures and conversation were few and far between. Still, it's nice to imagine what we could have had if life wasn't so shitty.

I picture these two at family events, being competitive as fuck, arguing about rich-boy problems. But let's face it—Damon would have won.

"I'm done with this conversation," Damon announces, standing up. "Avery, I'll be back to get you in forty-five minutes."

"Okay," I answer, watching as he exits the room, closing the door behind him.

When it's just Dr. Smith and I left, we glance at each other, a weird tension between us.

Damon and I have been through several journeys in our relationship—from hating each other, to tolerating, to liking.

And kissing.

The flashback makes me embarrassed, and I'm worried that the psychiatrist in front of me may have mind-reading abilities or be able to see my secrets from my body language. Worse still, he might see what I really think.

I want to kiss him again.

"How are you feeling anyway?" Dr. Smith asks, and I feel relief that I'm not being painfully obvious.

"I'm alright," I mutter. "Just worried about Theo."

He nods, smiling at me. "Good."

"Good?" I question sternly. "It'sgoodthat I'm worried they took him away?"

That annoys me. Worry and anxiety are horrible emotions to deal with, yet he seems ecstatic about it.

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