Echoes (Dance with My Demons #2)

10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Grey

I don't know how to take any of her words.

Each one is like a stabbing to my chest, a wound that burns and refuses to close. But still, somehow, I believe her.

It's still not quite enough though. But the anger I felt has dissipated slightly.

I still need a release though.

As I head back inside the library, I sense Avery behind me, her quiet footsteps ringing loudly in my ears. I'm so consciously aware of her movements.

I immediately find Damon lingering by the meeting table, watching me with a collected gaze as we enter. I give him a stern nod before disappearing behind a curtain to give myself a minute to calm down before we get back to business.

No one is in this aisle thankfully, and even without seeing her, I know she's hovering outside, wondering if she should follow.

Right on cue, I hear Damon summon her over, thankful for his intervention.

In the next aisle over, I hear muffled groans and sounds of pleasure, the stark reminder making me mad. I want to fuck her so hard that it hurts. I want to slam into her with such force that we defy the laws of physics and become one person. It seems fitting anyway, since she already has my heart. She might as well take my body and soul too. At least then I'd find some type of peace. Sure, it would probably be hell too, but if she sends me there, I would have a nice family reunion no doubt.

I stay hidden for a few minutes until Damon's voice booms out around the library, calling everyone back.

Swinging back the curtain, I resume my place next to him, ignoring burning eyes on me.

"Let's get on with it," Damon says firmly, hands planted on the table in front of him. "My patience is starting to wear thin. Now, if there's no further interruptions," he hisses, looking at Avery daringly.

A smirk tugs on my lips. In my peripheral vision, I notice her slouch in her seat, cheeks red. Even with the embarrassment I know she feels, there's a more relaxed vibe to her. I wonder how many times she said those sentences to herself over and over, how many times she imagined saying them to me.

I'm surprised at myself. I really thought I'd lose it. While she had probably imagined apologizing a million times, I had envisioned pinning her against the wall, squeezing the air out of her body while my cock was buried deep inside her.

I've never experienced the amount of love and hate simultaneously as she brings out in me right now.

And worst of all—I know she's right. We were never officially together. But despite that, I thought it was obvious she was mine.

I told her that.

I hate sharing—ever since I was little. Any time I was made to share things, they got broken. They were taken from me. Not to mention what happened with my parents.

I'm fucking possessive. I'm dangerous. I'll fucking kill for what's mine.

And that extends to her .

We can't go back now. I can't move forward on the path I had laid out, so I guess it's time for Plan B.

Damon is right. We have too much at stake. I need to focus on the plan. We've worked too hard to be distracted now.

I just need to figure out how that includes dealing with her .

Arthur's little game has thrown a wrench in the mix, and although I am not surprised, it's a whirlwind of issues I have to deal with now. If I had my way, we would banish her. If she's out of sight and out of mind, I can almost breathe. But she's here. And we have to keep a tight leash on things.

If that old cunt gets his way, we'll lose everything.

I can't lose it again.

"We will be moving to weekly meetings until further notice," Damon tells everyone. "I require regular updates on the operations and you can be sure your tasks will increase. We're at a critical point, so keep all eyes on things. We'll also need to re-evaluate the groupings. Grey and I will create an alternate system over the next week and report back. In the meantime, the guards will continue to notify us of any plans from Lilydale staff."

I look over at Damon, wondering if he's going to tell everyone about his little deal. I doubt it—it's a secret that he's kept forever. And while the two worlds have never collided before, it's not the right time.

I'm still bewildered that he stepped in and did it. I trust he will give me answers soon. But upon reflection, I think I already know the reason partly. But it's never a case of what meets the eye with Damon. Sure, I probably know one of the reasons—but I bet there's at least three more.

"Will Whittingham issue any punishments?" Byrone asks.

I laugh, jumping into the conversation. "No. We've spoken to the old bat. He's not in a position to exercise that poor excuse for power. Punishing the patients for a suicide would reflect badly on them."

Damon nods. "I suspect that Hallman's death has probably brought some attention to the facility. While it's not uncommon for untimely deaths to occur, two suicides in close proximity will have hurt their precious mission statement. They will be doing damage control."

Avery's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Sometimes, I forget how new she is. It feels like she's been here forever, but in retrospect, she's still just a newbie.

It was a different time back then. The last suicide rocked the facility—staff and patients—and I don't think anyone is going to forget it any time soon.

Especially not me.

"Do we think it will trigger anything else?" Jillian asks carefully.

Damon shoots her a warning glance, even though she's chosen her words well. "Not at this time, no. However, I'm keeping a close eye on things. I certainly think the board is trying to shake things up though. At this stage, we're not sure what their next plan is."

She nods quickly, putting her head down. Typing away on her laptop, my eyes narrow suspiciously. I know Damon trusts her somewhat, but you never know with Lilydale.

"What do you need us to do?" Jemison speaks up. "Will you approach us individually?"

"Yes," I answer casually, answering for Damon. "I'll be paying a few of you visits tomorrow."

Damon throws me a smile which I return before lazily glancing off around the room.

"That's all for tonight. I'll have more to report tomorrow. You'll be escorted back to your rooms in an hour, so make use of everything before then." Damon pauses, nodding toward the red curtain. "I believe Grey was able to line someone up tonight."

A few people murmur excitedly, standing as the meeting finishes. I spot Jemison eagerly strolling to the exhibition entrance, followed by a couple of others. Laughing to myself, I walk over to the alcohol I sourced, grabbing a bottle of whiskey to myself.

Swigging a quick mouthful, I head over to Damon, ignoring the fact that Avery is still sitting at the table awkwardly, like she doesn't know what to do.

"Good call on this," I tell him.

"Not quite what I had in mind in terms of venting your frustration, but whatever your poison," he replies coolly. "Maybe take a trip behind the red curtain."

He says it loud enough that Avery looks up at us in surprise, a brief flash of hurt crossing her face. It has the exact reaction he hoped for, small tears pooling in her eyes. But she doesn't cry though, only shoving back her chair to head over to the food.

I give him a knowing look, but he just shrugs, unfazed.

"Don't play with fire," he warns, and I know it's aimed at me.

"But the pain feels so good," I taunt back.

Damon rolls his eyes. "I'm serious. I let you have your little one-on-one. Hopefully that has cleared your head now. But stay focused. You know what you need to do tomorrow."

I nod. "I'll send Christopher your best. Or worst. Whatever you feel."

"You can send him to the grave for all I give a shit," he retorts. "Don't forget to pay a little visit to Markel. The docile fuck can barely practise these days but I wouldn't put it past Arthur to go to the least obvious."

Handing Damon the whiskey bottle, I laugh. "Give it a few more years and he'll have dementia. That's if he doesn't fuck himself into a heart attack."

He takes a sip, deep in thought. "Grab Capello's file while you are there. I have a few things that need to be confirmed."

"No worries," I mutter, turning around and heading over to the food.

The kitchen staff have to prepare the usual daily food in the most cost-effective way possible, but with a little bit of persuasion, I was able to convince them to provide us with something a bit more edible. I've been waiting all day to get my hands on the brisket, and apparently, that's what has Avery's attention too.

Reaching past her, I grab a handful of the tender meat, watching as she looks up surprised. I bet she didn't expect I'd be in close range again so soon, but seeing her reaction makes me want to taunt her even more.

If I can't have her, then maybe I'll just torture her. Just like she tortures me.

"Moist, isn't it?" I murmur. "Slow-cooked at the perfect temperature."

Avery glances at the meat, nodding slowly. "I guess so."

Popping a piece into my mouth, I lock eyes with her, annoyed that she's still yet to eat.

I shouldn't care.

But I do.

It's fucking annoying.

Picking up another piece, I hold it up to her lips, pressing it against the soft curve of her mouth. Juice trickles over her lips and suddenly Damon's words hit me. I am playing with fire—I want to burn.

When Avery's involved, I want everything.

Life.

Death.

Torture.

Pleasure.

Pain.

Every- fucking -thing she can offer me.

She looks at me, stunned, but opens her mouth so I can push the meat inside. Tipping her chin with my finger, I close her mouth, turning away. "Eat."

It's as if she's on auto-pilot, following instructions perfectly. A range of expressions cross her face—surprise, bewilderment, confusion, appreciation.

"It's good," she mutters after swallowing. "Really good."

"I know," I reply back in a snarky tone, reaching for a baked potato. "You should eat. Stop wasting my efforts."

Before she can respond, I walk away from the table, heading to the red curtain. I have no intention of involving myself with anyone, but as I disappear behind it, I hear a soft gasp from the food table. It hurts knowing that I'm hurting her, but at the same time, the pain is all I have to hold on to.

Jemison is balls-deep in the glory hole, while a few others are making out against the shelves. I lean against the shelf myself, watching curiously. These fuckers have no idea just how good we treat them. We're not all that scary. Fear is a powerful tool to wield, but at the end of the day, we reward everyone just as hard. Respect us and do as you're told, and you'll reap the benefits.

It just comes with a price first.