Page 65 of Exile
We're still waiting for the specifics. My patience is already paper thin, but these two assholes ganged up on me, demanding I wait before interrogating Avery. It's frustrating watching Grey coddle her. Not because I want answers, which I do, but because Avery doesn't need it.
While it's clear that this morning rattled her and she's troubled by whatever went down, she's not on the verge of a nervous breakdown. If anything, I'm probably more inclined to suspect she's going to rage blackout judging by her tense posture and irritated expression.
"Can we move this along?" I finally snap, directing my question at Grey.
He coolly glances over his shoulder in my direction. "Chill, Deadman. Give her a few minutes to process things."
"Avery," I say sternly, shifting my attention to her. "Do youneedprocessing time?"
Her light irises lift to meet my face, expression softening. I'll never admit this out loud, but that simple gesture alights something in me. To know I have an effect on her mood and demeanor, to have her look at me so fondly despite whatever turmoil is happening, it's addictive in a way I never anticipated.
I suppose that's a good thing since she's now stuck with me in unholy matrimony. It would be rather awkward if we returned to me threatening to wipe her from existence, and Avery slapping me whenever she got riled up by said threats.
"No," she answers after pondering the question for a few seconds, much to my amusement.
Grey laughs quietly, almost pouting like the competitive bastard just suddenly realized I'm on his level now and he'll have to try a lot harder to persuade Avery to take his side. He stands, holding up his hands in defeat. "Fine," he mumbles cheerily. "We'll do it the classic Damon way. Information first, therapy later."
He at least earns himself a laugh from Avery, who reaches forward to squeeze his hand.
"You can help fix me later," she teases.
I close my eyes, agitated that we're heading backwards on the fucking merry-go-round with these two again. They both get distracted by shiny things, which is counterproductive when they are both like black diamonds on a sunny, cloudless day—a never ending cycle.
My sanity must truly be slipping through the cracks because a second later, I find myself glancing in Theo's direction, silently requesting some assistance.
Theo stares back at me with a blank expression, but luckily, someone in this room still has some focus. He steps forward, slapping Grey up the side of the head. "Snap out of it, asshole. We've got work to do."
"Ow."
"Thank you," I muse before facing Avery. "Now, what did my father do?"
All playfulness vanishes from her face in an instant and it makes my blood boil. It's clear that whatever happened has unnerved her, but still, she persists, filling us in. As she details the ordeal, from the guards dragging her out of bed, to being forced to change in a room full of vile creatures, I secretly hope that it doesn't get much worse because I'm already on the edge of hunting my father down and being done with rationality.
But alas… that is never the case with him.
"… he made me sign some majority agreement so that we outvote you, as well as taking the liberty of organizing myaffairs," she spits out in disgust.
"Affairs?" Theo asks.
Avery locks eyes with me. "A Will—leaving everything I own to him and excluding you."
"Deadman, we need to kill him—now," Grey mutters angrily. "No more delaying. Even if it means changing the plan."
"Fuck the plan," Theo interjects. "I don't give a shit about anyone else. He's planning on coming for Aves. We do something—now. I'm done fucking around and waiting."
On the outside, I'm managing to keep my composure while digesting this news. But inside, I'm in complete agreement with them for once. I'm probably seconds away from detonating and losing control, but I have to remain focused. That's what he's counting on. My father will be laying in wait, hoping I take the bait and charge in with guns blazing.
When you act on impulse, things become murky. There's no sense of judgment. No ability to see danger or control over your actions.
I still haven't spoken when Avery walks over to me, straddling my lap.
"Hey," she murmurs quietly, grabbing my face in between her hands. "You've got this."
I find myself searching her eyes, quickly registering her words.
Control. You've still got control.
Placing my hands on her waist, I don't bother to speak because truthfully, she can already hear me—read me like a fucking book. There's a silent conversation passing between us—Avery knowing my true reaction buried deep, and helpingme stay grounded, and me, promising that no one will dare lay a finger on her and I'll protect her with my life.
