Page 75 of Ravage

I know that in reality I couldn't have, but there's still a small—okay, large—part of me that wants to apologize. I want him to look at me warmly again, to display that side that he's shown lately.

After lunch, he walks with me in silence to Charmaine's classroom, turning around and stalking off before I can open my mouth once we reach the door.

It eats me up the entire lesson, especially when I notice that Grey is still missing. I lose track of how many times I stare at his empty chair, panic threatening to take my sanity as I worry that they somehow got their hands on him. But surely if that was the case, Damon would have said something.

By the time the lesson is over and free time has started, I'm on edge. I expect to see Damon or Grey waiting for me when I exit the room, but to my surprise, it's Jillian.

"Hey…" I greet awkwardly.

Jillian kicks off from the wall, her hair swishing behind her in a high ponytail. "Hey, Avery. Damon sent me to keep you company."

"Where is he?" I ask as we follow the rest of the gen-pop toward the hall for commencement of free time.

People ahead of us start to veer off into different directions—some inside the hall, others to the courtyard. Instinctively, I walk into the library. It's the only place that feels like home since I know Theo won't be in one of the empty rooms down the corridor.

"He's in his room," she answers, apparently unbothered by my lead of direction. "And Grey's out dealing with something."

I frown. No one has told me anything, and the fact that there's still secrets between us kind of hurts. Mainly because I'm worried—Whittingham seems determined to separate us. So, why have the men suddenly decided to leave me to my own devices?

"Is Damon okay?" I question quietly.

I have no idea if Jillian knows more than I do. It's clear that she's an important person to Damon and Cirque des Morts, so it's worth a try.

"I think so," she replies, leaning against a bookshelf. "He hasn't said much if that's what you're asking."

Nodding, I do my best to keep the worry off my face, but Jillian notices anyway.

"Don't stress," she murmurs. "I think he's just decompressing."

"Decompressing?" I repeat. "Did something happen?"

Jillian pauses, apparently contemplating how much to give away. "I believe he paid a visit to Whittingham. He's usually pissed off afterward."

That makes sense. He did say that he was going to speak to him. But still, it's Damon we're talking about. He's impenetrable, ruthless. I've never once known him to be cold and detached like this after speaking to Whittingham. Something else must have happened, otherwise he'd be here.

I don't like how much I'm in the dark right now—it's unsettling.

Pulling my cell out of my pocket, Jillian watches me quietly as I quickly send off a text message to Theo and Grey. I consider texting Damon too, but it sounds like I won't get a reply—if he wanted to talk to me, he'd be here.

When I finish, I shove the cell back into my pocket. We stand in silence, the awkward tension growing until I decide to make small talk.

"Where's Byrone?" I ask politely. It's no secret that they are a couple and spend most of their time together when possible.

"He's in his room," she says, and I can tell there's a bit of sadness laced in her tone.

I nod, feeling even more guilty. Everyone keeps putting their lives on hold for me, as if I'm some ancient artifact that needs guarding.

I'm not sure where my train of thought comes from—whether fueled by guilt, anxiety, or the need to be close to one of the guys—but the words fall from my lips before I can stop them.

"Can you get me an access card?"

Jillian listens to my unusual request, not a hint of surprise crossing her face. Instead, she digs into her pocket, pulling out a shiny black plastic card without hesitation.

"Here," she says, holding it out.

Carefully, I reach for it. I'm filled with disbelief that she handed it over so easily, but then again, things have rapidly changed in the past few weeks. I'm no longer the girl being forced to attend meetings while being made an example of. I'm now in Damon's inner circle—something I paid for with my life.

"Thank you," I murmur gratefully, pocketing it next to my cell. "I'll make sure you don't get in trouble for this."

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