Echoes (Dance with My Demons #2)

2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Grey

Dainty trails of maroon drip down the walls.

Usually, the sight of blood calms me. There's something about the very essence of our being—the life that it gives and seeing it spill out—that pacifies me. It's a reminder that we can use it as a weapon, ending lives as well as saving them.

But not today.

Not fucking today.

I pull back my fist, ready to slam it into the concrete wall again, until a voice stops me.

"Will you just chill for five minutes?" Damon snaps under his breath. "I don't have time to clean your mess off my walls. We have bigger problems to sort out."

I whip around, eyes wild with every disgusting emotion humanly possible, finding Damon leaning against the wall on his bed.

We've been in his room for two hours, nearly three. And I'm losing my fucking mind.

I have half a mind to leave— because I fucking can —but he's the only thing anchoring me at the moment. From the moment that cunt Arthur ordered everyone to their rooms, I was on edge. Avery's cries still echo in my head, the image of her being shoved into the wall and handcuffed… touched by someone else. I need to hurt someone.

It took every fiber of my strength not to rip those constables apart limb from limb—and Damon's strength too. He had to physically hold me back as the entire gen pop watched her be dragged off. If I had my way, they'd all be with that pathetic excuse of a man called Samuel Hallman.

I know who I need to hurt, where I need to direct that anger.

Fucking Theo Ashwood.

He should have done more to protect her. The police held him back but he should have tried harder.

He should have destroyed them while he had the chance.

And now she's gone.

"If you're going to sort things out , I'd do it quickly. You have five more minutes before I leave this room and gut everyone who crosses my path."

Damon rolls his eyes, typing something on his laptop. "Sit down, Grey. I'm working on it. But I can't be babysitting you as well. Where do you want my focus to be?"

Begrudgingly, I jump up onto his desk, sitting on the edge. "I need answers. And I need them now."

I'm mad at him for holding me back. But as he said to me in the hall, there's no use spilling police blood because I'll be whisked away too, separated from everyone. And then there's no coming back from that.

"I know you do," he answers softly, a trait only reserved for those closest to him—at the briefest of times. "I'll get them."

"I'm serious, Deadman. Five minutes and I'm out of here. I don't care. I'll paint the hallways red and string Christmas lights up made of intestines."

He puts his laptop aside, standing up. Part of me hopes that he'll punch me, calm me down with the pain. But I know he won't. He's physically strong—enough to hold me back—but his mind is stronger.

"Free time is over so we won't be let back out today," he says casually, holding a hand up as my face turns violent at the mere idea of getting no answers until tomorrow. "But I'm going to go speak to Arthur. I've checked the camera feeds. The police have just left and Hallman's body has been removed."

"Downstairs?" I ask.

"No—city morgue. The police need to do their autopsy to finalize their investigation so that his family can make funeral preparations. They will have released him from Lilydale custody."

I fold my arms. "She's not going down for this, Damon. It's not fair."

Damon's eyes narrow darkly. "Who cares if she does? Don't you care about what she did to you?"

Gritty camera footage rolls through my mind, the sounds of her breathy moans and gasps in the morgue, and I see red again at the reminder. "She's been through enough," I spit out, much to the surprise of Damon.

"You love her," he laughs incredulously, shaking his head. "I should have known."

"I did ," I correct him.

"No, you still love her," he points out, opening the door and peering out into the quiet hallway. "Don't mistake me for a fool, Grey. You're smarter than that."

I shake my head. "Love and forgiveness are two separate things."

Damon leans against the doorframe, looking at me with a bored expression. "I know you struggle with the line of forgiveness, but that subject aside, you still care for the girl."

"Avery," I say through clenched teeth. "Her name is Avery."

He raises an eyebrow. "Her name is as dead to me as Hallman is. Come on, you can come with me to see Arthur. I think putting the fear of the Devil in him would do some good. We all know he's going to have a field day dealing with this."

I take a final glimpse at Damon's walls covered in my blood, a sinister smirk tugging at my lips at the idea of unleashing some hell.

The two of us head down the deserted hallway until we reach the end where Connor is. He's by far my favorite guard—and best of all, we don't have to pay him a cent. If only Arthur knew just how much control we had now. He's making it too easy for us.

"Move," Damon orders, shooing him with his hand.

Connor steps aside, leaning against the wall. No matter how many guards they hire, they will never take control of them. Sure, a few try to stand up to us. But we promptly cut their legs out from underneath them, letting them crawl around at our feet. They learn quickly after that.

The access pad lights up as Damon's fingers punch in the code, before we find ourselves on the other side. Immediately, I spot Arthur's office door wide open, his grumbling figure behind his desk, barking down the phone. Our footsteps are quiet, but it's not them he hears. He senses us, eyes shooting up and finding our figures lurking in the darkness as we approach.

"I have to go," he says, slamming the phone down.

I smirk as he rises to his feet, just in time for us to enter his office.

"No security?" I mock. "Tsk. Didn't you hear? There's a killer on the loose."

Arthur scowls at me, but not before Damon holds his hand up, silencing both of us.

"Arthur," Damon lulls. "Always a pleasure. Stressful day?"

Damon rounds the desk, making the tight cunt scatter. I laugh, distracting him for a split second as Damon sits on the counterfeit throne. Whittingham might pretend he has reign over us, but we all know that's a lie. He should be afraid— very afraid .

Stuck between the two of us, he has no choice but to dig into those deep pockets to find his balls.

"What do you want?" he snaps at Damon. "I'm up to my eyeballs with police and board calls."

"So, you're aware of the situation then?" Damon replies.

I'm perplexed, because obviously, we're all aware of the situation. Unless there's another situation I'm not familiar with yet…

Arthur's face darkens. "Yes. I'm not happy about it."

"That sounds like a you problem, Arthur. Now, here's what's going to happen. My team is going to give your pathetic excuse for administration access to camera footage. If your IT people are worth a fraction of their money, you'll find what you're looking for. In the meantime, you will not be dishing out any punishments for this. Things will continue on as normal."

"I knew you had something to do with that," Whittingham hisses. "Do you have any idea how much money the facility has poured out to fix the cameras?"

Damon shrugs. "At the risk of sounding like a broken record, that's your problem. But what we are giving you will close the investigation. Hallman's death will be marked as a suicide. If you want to put on some show and dance about his death, make everyone mourn, be my guest. But that's the end of that matter."

"So, I hand the footage to the police and then what?"

I smirk as Damon tilts the chair back, kicking his feet up onto Arthur's desk. He makes a point of tipping over a mug of coffee with his foot, the liquid spilling all over scattered paperwork. "Then you do what you do best. Carry on with the recruitment process. I'm sure the board already has a candidate in mind to replace Hallman. A long list, no doubt."

Ahh, yes. The only topic that matters to Whittingham—money. The cog that keeps the wheels turning in this death hole.

"And the other thing?" Whittingham snipes.

I don't like his tone toward Damon so I take a casual step, smirking when he quickly scuffles back at my movement.

Damon looks at me, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I believe that should be resolving itself any minute now. Handle it delicately. Or else," he adds in a sinister tone.

"You're a real piece of shit."

It strikes a nerve in me, and I close the distance between myself and Arthur in two strides. I shove him against the wall hard, hand around his throat. Fearful eyes dart down to my hand, knuckles still coated in dried blood.

"Don't speak to him that way again," I murmur, tightening my fingers around his windpipe. "Or it will be the last thing you do."

I have to give it to the old cunt, he quickly swallows that fear, eyes narrowing on Damon.

"Had to bring your lapdog with you?" he snarls.

"Scary dog privilege," Damon corrects casually. "He needed some cheering up. But I'd take his advice and watch your tone. He's out for blood." He winks at me, and I squeeze Arthur's throat until he's a spluttering mess.

Finally, when his hands start clawing at mine, face a nice shade of purple, I release him. He slumps back against the wall, gasping for breath.

"I'm aware of your… relationship ." It's directed at me, a murderous glint in his eye.

Oh, please try me. Please, please… push me over the edge. I'm begging you.

Damon sighs, disinterested. "We all know that you do not give a fuck about anyone's relationships here. Except, of course, yours and Dorothea's. Which I'm happy to meddle in if you can't control yourself and do as you're told."

Arthur snaps his head toward Damon. "Do not threaten us, boy. You will not touch her."

I watch as Damon gets to his feet quickly, strolling over to Arthur. He recoils as Damon peers down at him, hands in pockets.

"I'll fuck her and make her scream louder than your pathetic excuse of a dick ever could," he murmurs darkly. "Then I'll get Grey to rip her heart out so you can keep it on your half-a-million dollar desk for commemoration. But don't worry—I'm sure the board would appropriately replace her so you have a new fuck toy to wield power over. Especially since we know you don't have any here."

Arthur straightens up to full height, still having to gaze up at Damon. "Try to keep your minions in check. While you might have struck a deal this time, it won't last forever. You're on borrowed time, boy."

"Keep telling yourself that," Damon whispers darkly. "And you might believe it."

He turns slowly, giving me a nod. "Let's go. We have another visit to make."

I blow Arthur a kiss before trailing out of the office behind Damon. Kicking the door closed, I narrow my eyes at Damon suspiciously, dropping my playful fa?ade.

"What is this deal you mentioned?"

Damon stops, pivoting his body to glance at me.

"I made a deal with the chairman so we had some leverage. And it's right on time, I see."

The entrance doors open, figures emerging from the darkness outside. My heart stops as I catch sight of Avery being led inside by two police officers, her hands cuffed in front of her abdomen.

Avery's gray eyes widen open in surprise as she halts her steps, spotting me instantly.

"Welcome back, Avery," Damon says loudly, his voice echoing around the chamber. "I'll be seeing you soon."

A flicker of fear appears in her eyes as she glances at Damon, but they quickly return to me. She's scanning me for a reaction— anything.

My walls shoot back up, my face cold as I turn away from her like she's a random person on the street not worthy of a second glance. Following Damon's pace to the guarded door, I hear her small, anxious breaths, her silence begging me to say something.

As we step through the door to the rooms, I give Connor a nod, relief flooding through me as he closes the door behind us, blocking her out.

Out of sight, out of mind they say. But that's just bullshit. Now that I know she's in the same building as me again, the tether between us pulls.

And I'm going to take that tether and wrap it around her soft body—whether that's to fuck her or kill her, I don't know yet.