Page 55 of Exile
I still have his wrist in my hold but he's using his other hand to strike me, shoving his weight into my body as my back hits the countertop behind me.
"Let go," I growl, bending his wrist backwards. It has to hurt, nearly snapping the bone but he seems indifferent to it. When his fist clocks me in the eye, I push him back to gather myself, well and truly pissed off now.
Except he's on the move again.
Fast.
All I see is the reflection of the ceiling light on stainless steel as it rushes toward me. Pain erupts through my head, and that's when I lose control.
I briefly register the first hit I lay into him. And the second.
Then suddenly, I'm staring at white walls, chained to a hospital bed with a bandage on my neck and a fuzzy recollection of his dead body beneath me.
** Present Day **
There's something satisfying about new toys. It's like that feeling at Christmas, when your whole body is filled with excitement after ripping open a brand new toy that you'll inevitably break within a week.
Holding the blowtorch in my hand, I feel the same way. That's the best part about being an adult—more expensive toys to playwith.
"This is amazing," I murmur, grinning at Deadman. "Compact too."
He nods, completely unfazed by my overly enthusiastic reaction. "Portable handheld torch. We just need to be mindful of the butane canister. Don't go wasting it."
"You're no fun," I pout, whirling it around like a lightsaber. "Pew pew."
I quickly hide it behind my back when there's a small knock on Damon's door. I leave him to do the honors, wondering if there's someone on the other side that I'll get to use my new toy on straight away.
"Connor," Damon acknowledges, and I feel a pang of disappointment.
Damn.
"I have some information for you," Connor grunts out, giving me a small nod as he notices me.
"Go on," Damon says, only partially interested.
"It's about Avery."
Well, that grabs both of our undivided attention. I slip the blowtorch out from behind my back, Connor glancing at it for a brief second as if it's nothing more than a shoe. I suppose he did help Deadman purchase it so there's no element of surprise.
"Dr. Smith is absent today. Some of his sessions have been rescheduled with Dr. Elsher."
"Avery better not be with him," I cut in, clearly echoing Damon's thoughts as he nods sharply.
A pained, constipated expression appears on Connor's face, confirming the worst. That motherfucker. I'm going to melt his face off and sizzle his balls.
"She was," Connor quickly answers, noticing the change in my demeanor. "She left though. The guards have been instructed to look for her."
Damon steps toward him. "What do you meanshe left?" he asks dangerously.
"Walked out of session. We've been warned that she could be hostile."
A laugh bursts out of my mouth, startling our friendly little guard. He jumps, pursing his lips as he glances at me cautiously.
"Avery, hostile?" I repeat, amused. "Come on. That's just being overly dramatic."
Connor nods. "I don't disagree. But according to Dr. Elsher, she threatened him so the guards have been instructed to take her to Whittingham once she's located. They've deemed her a flight risk."
My little killer threatened him? I need to find her now before one of the guards do, but given the fact my dick is hardening at the news she threatened Elsher, we might need to make a pitstop on the way back.
