Page 71 of Exile
"Alright, it's time," Damon announces, tightening his grip around my waist as if he can sense my inner demons. "Let's make this quick. Stick to the plan. That means,Avery, staying close to one of us at all times."
I nod, glancing at the three masked covered men. "I will," I promise. "Same to you."
The arm around me squeezes—not in confirmation, but reaction to my desire to lecture the great Damon. I don't care though. He's my husband. That means I'm equally responsible for his wellbeing, just as I am for my two boyfriends. We're all in this together. We go together and we leave together. No plan B.
"Grey," Damon starts, leaning round me to hand something over. "You can do the honors."
I eye the item being passed between them. Through the mask I can sense Grey's excitement, and it's that moment oftension relief I was craving. "Why am I not surprised you're also a pyromaniac?"
"No need to slap words in front of maniac, little killer," Grey muses. "That one word sums me up pretty well. But if you want to get into the argument of fire…"
Scowling at him, I step out of Damon's arms and move closer to him. "Fire is significant, Grey. It can mean rebirth."
"Like a phoenix rising from the ashes?" he states playfully. "I feel like we're more akin to a bunch of crows."
"A murder?" I snort.
Grey taps the temple of his mask. "Exactly."
"Alright," Damon cuts in. "Time to move. Grey—you and Theo will remove the door as quickly as possible. Then, we go. Once we're done there, we split up into pairs and start gathering the patients. If my suspicions are correct, the doctors will hightail it out of there. They won't want to try to confront all of us. Just be sure to confirm through the phone line which patient you have so Jillian can mark them off the list. We need to ensure we find everyone."
We all nod, exiting the aisle to meet the other dressed members. It's a touch eerie seeing all the devil masks in a circle, but somehow, it also feels…powerful. This is what Damon fought for, what we all have prepared for. I'm not going to let him down.
Tonight, we prove to Whitface and Alexander that no matter what they do, we'll continue to stop them.
They can torture us all they want. Shoot us and try to end our lives. Tell us we are insignificant and a danger to society. But we know the truth. We see through their lies.
That's why we are the society—born out of pain and trauma. Sticking together and fighting for the voices who can't speak.
We'll be the monsters they claim us to be. Hell, we'll be the villains too.
But what we won't be… is their victims any longer.
They don't get to use our pain and pasts to fund and fuel their sick and twisted needs. We're stronger than what they make us out to be. And it's time we take them down once and for all.
Cirque des Mortsisn't just a group of unhinged psychos.
We're a fucking legacy.
Chapter 27
Avery
As soon as we connect the conference call on the cell phones, Byrone goes ahead and disconnects the cameras. It's time to move. We know from experience that the notification will already be on its way to Whitface, which means he'll soon send word to the lab downstairs.
Grey and Theo have obviously planned their part perfectly, the two of them working in unison to remove the door by the stairwell. Sparks fly from the metal as Grey melts the outline of the door while Theo uses a crowbar to jam it into the lock. Then, they destroy the access pad with the blowtorch, sizzling the plate until it crashes to the floor with a clunk.
Between the weakened doorframe, warped hinges, and ripped wires from the access pad, the two of them pull the door off within minutes, lifting it and placing it against the wall.
At first, I'm a bit confused as to why—why wouldn't they just focus on the access pad like we've done previously? Then it hits me… they are making sure we can get back out. We can't have anything slowing us down, and we have no idea what condition the patients are in. If we need to carry them, stopping to disarm doors and rip out cords is going to eat into valuable seconds. This way, there's an open entrance to get through.
Sure, the guards will be able to get to us a hell of a lot quicker, but that's the risk we're taking. I know they are confident in handling the guards, so weighing that against the patients' conditions and the need to get them to safety wins out.
No one says a word as we fly down the staircase, weaving into the cold darkness. Even with the hoodie and sweats, I can immediately feel the change in temperature when we move underground.
The next door is subjected to the same treatment, much faster than the first, and suddenly, we're on foot toward those large double doors.
My heart beats ridiculously fast in my throat, stomach clenching as they come into view. I can just picture the mass panic on the other side, doctors scrambling to flee through hidden exits while either abandoning patients or ensuring they can never speak again.
