Page 95 of Exile
Aiming, I don't hesitate to pull the trigger, the bang deafening the room. My bullet hits him in the shoulder, his arm dropping and the gun moving away from Avery as he clutches his bleeding wound while snarling and cursing.
William attempts to rush forward to grab Avery from behind, but I fire at him too, hitting him perfectly in the forehead. He drops to the ground like a sack of shit, dead before he can even stain the carpet. I wanted to prolong his torture, but in this moment, I'll settle for his death.
I spot Arthur duck behind the desk again like the coward he is, and I cross the threshold, ripping Avery behind me as Istand in front of my father as he hunches over, trying to stop the bleeding.
"Allez en enfer," I tell him in French, knowing just how much he hated Mom's fascination with Paris. It's why I learned the language, after all. Why I named the societyCirque des Morts.
His eyes widen as I bring the gun to the bridge of his nose, smiling fondly as I pull the trigger without another thought—twice for good measure.
Bang. Bang.
Alexander Dale drops to the floor as blood splatters over my face and chest, quickly pooling at our feet. I barely notice Arthur scampering out from behind the desk, rushing to the door to run away.
I'll get him later. Right now, I take a moment to enjoy the feeling of seeing my father's dead body on the ground.
It's over. He can't hurt anyone ever again.
My chest heaves with deep breaths as reality sinks in. I finally fulfilled my promise to Mom, and fuck it feels so damn good.
Arms curl around me from behind, Avery resting her forehead against my back.
I spin around, searching her face carefully—checking for signs that she's terrified of who I am and what I'm capable of. But there's nothing, just need as she grabs my face and smashes her lips to mine.
As I kiss her back, I hear running footsteps screeching to a halt, before Grey's voice float into the room.
"Ohh," he says amused. "Look at that. We missed all the action. Ding dong, the bitch is dead."
Chapter 35
Avery
"I'm going to miss this place," I sigh heavily.
"Should we be concerned?" Grey jokes. "I mean… itisthe morgue, after all."
The four of us stand in the cold room, Grey on my left and Theo on my right. Damon is behind me, and I can feel his sarcastic stare on my back. No doubt there's some witty comment on the tip of his tongue.
But I don't care.
I don't have it in me right now to worry about what this says about my mental health. Most people's favorite locations that they share romantically with their partners are restaurants and breath-taking views of mountain ranges. Not morgues.
"Maybe I'm just broken," I murmur. "This will always be a stand out memory and that's not normal."
A hand slides along my waist, a chest pressing into my back. "You were beautiful when broken, Avery," Damon replies. "And you're still beautiful now. But not broken. You're much stronger than you give yourself credit for."
I lean back into my husband. "It's ironic. The place I felt most alive in Lilydale is the one place the dead come."
"You came too," Grey points out. "Thankfully, still alive."
"Sick fuck," Theo mumbles under his breath.
"I didn't mean it like that," Grey shoots back. "Who invited this guy?"
Theo twists his head to smile at me. "I was here first," he says, eyes darting over to the mortuary cabinet knowingly.
"Yes, you were," I laugh. "Still not sure how we managed to fit in that damn thing."
"Or the fact you made a sex tape," Damon murmurs in amusement. "Except if anyone dares to watch it outside of us, I'll be forced to kill them."
