Page 47 of Exile
"Let's do this," I answer, face tight.
Damon takes a single step forward, lifting his hand to gesture for me to go first. I know it must be difficult for them—their instincts wanting to kick in and walk ahead of me like protective guard dogs. But this is about me.
Glancing at each of them a final time, I start walking down the corridor, the sounds of their footsteps following immediately. We pass the staff rooms and I'm unable to resist peering inside. I'm disappointed to find Elsher's door closed, probably in session with an innocent patient. For a moment, I'm tempted to kick his door down and put on a show for him. But I know this will get back to him regardless. We can save him for another time.
Dr. Smith has his door wide open, alone in his office. His neck nearly snaps with a loud crack as he does a triple take, mouth falling open in horror as we stroll by. Grey cackles behind me, obviously amused by the chaos we're causing.
Fuck—I'm going to be grilled in my next therapy session. Alexander should really pay Dr. Smith more because my mental health alone is disastrous enough for the man to handle.
Damon hums quietly to himself, and if I had to guess, I'd say his mind is somewhere along the same lines as mine—more likely amused at his cousin's distress than anything.
Of course, Theo says nothing. Swiveling my head, I check that he's still following, his eyes immediately finding mine as I do. He gives me a small smile, silently reassuring me that he has my back and I'm safe.
Safe.
I can't ponder the alternate reality that if I'd never crossed paths with these three that my existence in Lilydale would be anything but safe. I'd already be dead, or even more broken than I was when I entered.
Pausing as we reach the final door, I wait for one of them to unlock it. To my surprise, a staff card is handed to me over my shoulder.
"Damon?"
He holds the card out. "Yours, Avery."
I guess we're actually doing this and not cutting corners.
Nodding, I take the card with my free hand, swiping it on the keypad before punching in the code that Damon had me recite before we left the rooms. The light on the access pad flashes green and I waste no time pulling open the door. There's no hesitation, no fear. We're fucking doing this.
Stepping into the Lilydale foyer, the sound of our four sets of footsteps echo around the marble. Whittingham's door is wide open, his head down as he pours himself over paperwork. I actually wonder if he does much work or if he just spends all his time planning malevolent ideas.
His head jerks up, and despite my best efforts to keep my face expressionless, I can't help but smirk in amusement athis sudden panic. He stands before we even reach his doorway, and I spot his eyes darting between our distance and the door, probably wondering if he has time to lock us out.
He doesn't, of course.
Behind me, Grey growls low in his chest, his own amusement left back in the corridor now that we're face to face with the man who stars in all of our nightmares.
"Whitface," I greet, strolling straight over to his desk. "A displeasure as always."
Normally, there'd be some snarky reply or threat, but Arthur Whittingham is completely speechless. And I don't blame him.
Lifting my arm, I drop his present in front of him, a sickening bang drawing his attention.
"You lost this," I say calmly—my tone surprising even me.
Whittingham's eyes widen, glaring at me before dropping down to the severed head of his lover on his paperwork.
Damon steps up beside me to my right, placing his left hand on my shoulder. Whittingham looks at it, eyebrow twitching as he takes in Damon's wedding band.
"Threaten my wife again and next time it will be your head," Damon promises coldly.
I'm not sure if they practised it but as if on cue, Theo and Grey split, closing in on Whittingham on either side of the desk. The older man stumbles back at their advance, unable to hide the sheer horror and fear at realizing the four of us have him blocked in.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he spits out, moving behind his cushy chair and using it as a barrier.
Grey grins at him, reaching down to grab the beloved letter opener from the stationery canister. "I used this to pluck your guard's eye out. If you even look at our girl the wrong way, I'll shove it so far up your dick hole that you'll be pissing out of your belly button."
"Good luck with that," Whittingham snaps heatedly, although his expression fails him. "You'll be out of here by the end of the day."
Damon smiles saccharinely. "Because of the cameras, you mean? The cameras that are currently switched off?"
