Page 95 of Ravage

Damon shakes his head. "Not for a while. But I have no doubt my father will find ways to funnel money out for his own benefit now. We'll probably see Arthur later when he comes to gloat."

"Fuck him," I breathe out, the three of them glancing over at me with amusement. "I mean it. We're going to bring them down."

"We will," Grey agrees.

A vibration cuts us off, Damon digging into his pocket. He looks at his cell, frowning. "Well, fuck. That was not a development I expected."

"What is it?" Theo asks calmly.

He puts the cell on the table, eyes sliding over to mine. "We need to pay a visit to the morgue."

"Oh, my fucking God," I whisper, horrified.

I've come to accept that there are no lines that Whittingham or Alexander-fucking-Dale will cross. But this… this right here, is not one I could have predicted.

Judging by the expressions on their faces, nearly could Damon, Grey, or Theo.

"She really is fucking dead," Grey murmurs, slamming the cabinet door shut. "Huh—Go figure."

I stare at the closed metal door, eyes wide as images of her stricken face remain in my mind. "He had to have done this. But I thought he liked her…"

Dorothea's cold, rigid body is burned into my brain. When the guys said she was apparently out sick, I thought nothing of it. People take sick days all the time from their jobs. But when Damon got a text from Byrone, telling him that he overheard a guard on the live feed talking about the receptionist being found dead this morning, we needed to come check if that was true.

On the way here, the guys filled me in on how she was absent this morning and Dr. Smith had stolen the card for solitary confinement. It was odd, but gave them the perfect opportunity to get Theo out. Little did we know the truth.

She was here the whole time.

"Arthur doesn't like anyone but himself," Damon comments.

"Could he have really done this though?" I question, honestly terrified.

I've come to love all their darkness, accepting the fact that they have done bad things. But in hindsight, the bad things they did… it was all retribution—a fucked-up version of mental health vigilante shit.

But Whittingham… and maybe Damon's father… if they are capable of turning a blind eye to torture and death here, it probably shouldn't be that much of a surprise that they would kill too.

"Absolutely. He's a selfish pig," Grey points out. "She was probably getting too clingy or just collateral damage. He's too busy focusing on his plan with Alexander. She was likely in the way."

My thoughts go back to his office—the candle on his desk. "She gave him a gift with her face on it," I mutter, unsure how to feel. "I think I broke it though when I set his desk on fire."

Theo looks at me in pleasant surprise. I shrug back sheepishly at him. "It was a whole ass thing."

"Either way, we know he'll cross any line. That's why we have to hit back straight away," Damon interjects.

I let out a breath, shaking my head. I'm disgusted with Arthur. Even though I knew he was a conniving bastard, to hurt someone who obviously cared about him, it'striggering.

She was a bitch to me, but she was capable of love. And he used her—tossing her aside when she was no longer valuable to him.

They take. And take. And take.

My vision becomes a sea of red, and once again, before I realize I'm doing it, I'm flinging a metal tray full of medical utensils against the wall in anger.

Inside my head I'm screaming. I keep those in though, pacing the room with my hands on my head as the three of them watch me in concern.

"Aves?" Theo calls out, but I can barely hear him.

"All they do isuseus," I spit out angrily. "They are revolting creatures. Why did she have to die? Why do they have to torture us?"

My voice is getting louder with each sentence, body shaking as I walk. Someone grabs me from behind, pulling me into a bear hug.

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