Echoes (Dance with My Demons #2)

15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Avery

"End what?" I ask, eyes shifting to Grey.

A few weeks ago, I would have automatically assumed they meant my life. Yet, despite Damon's recent threats to my existence, I'm feeling at ease. Well, as much as possible given the circumstances.

"I cannot have you pair dancing around each other on edge. You both work for me, therefore, consider this my blessing. "

What the hell does that even mean?

Grey and I have already made our peace—I said what I needed to say, and he has somewhat accepted the fact we need to co-exist. Despite the obvious fact that we are nothing more than acquaintances now, I thought there was nothing else we could work out.

Grey lifts an eyebrow at Damon. "Your blessing?"

"Whatever you wish to call it," he grunts, annoyed.

It's clear that Damon has never given a so-called blessing in his life. Then again, I've only ever known him to take, rather than give. Sure, he looks after people in his society—treats them to luxuries not ordinarily granted to us, but that comes with a price.

It's payment.

This is something different.

I stay quiet, gaze flickering between them as they have some silent conversation that I'm not privy to. Probably would have made more sense to discuss it before fetching me from my metal confinement, but who knows what goes on in that head of his.

"And what exactly has changed since our last discussion?" Grey asks casually. "I thought we both made our positions clear."

Damon looks at me, eyes scanning over my straightened figure. "We did. However, let me be clear—you are both being pains in my ass recently. To make this work, it needs to be under my terms."

"You can't dictate relationships—whatever they may be," I mumble.

"Yes, I can," he says sternly. "Therefore, I have some rules for you to follow."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Let me just stop you right there. Whatever happens is between Grey and I. This doesn't involve you, no matter how much you think it does. We're not going to be monkeys in your circus— pun intended. "

I swear I see Grey's lips twitch as he fights a smirk, but I'm too focused on Damon. I never know what reaction I'll get from him when I fight back, so when he just smiles, I'm immediately on guard.

"I don't give a fuck what you do, Avery. I cannot be more clear—you mean absolutely nothing to me. However, Grey is important. But for some reason, you have a hold on him that is creating a problem with my plans."

Grey shakes his head, laughing as he picks up the knife. He presses the sharp tip into his finger, drawing blood. "Careful, Deadman," he warns.

"Don't patronize me, Grey," Damon shoots back. "She has a hold on you, and you know it. Therefore, I need you both to sort this mess out. Fuck each other if you have to. But from here on out, I expect no more spectacles or else I'll be forced to show my hand."

My heart is racing like a speeding bullet. I had every intention of chasing Grey and getting his attention—even if it meant just being friends. But this… is this the push we need? Is it the shove that Grey needs?

From Damon of all people?

It feels like I've entered into an alternate universe or the Twilight Zone. Keeping my mouth shut, I wait for them to finish their conversation, worried I might blow the only chance I have.

"I have to go speak to Byrone. I'll give you an hour. Don't mess up my room," Damon scolds us, walking past me out the door. He slams it closed behind him, the familiar sound of the lock clicking into place.

He's locked us in here. Together.

Slowly, I turn my gaze to Grey on the bed, smiling at him sheepishly. "That was bizarre," I say awkwardly.

Grey scans my face, still rolling the blade between his fingers. "Classic Damon."

I hover in place, glancing around at Damon's room to distract myself from the inevitable conversation coming. If I give myself a few moments to collect my thoughts, I might save myself from word vomiting again.

It's very similar to my own room, except straight away, I notice one key difference. Lilydale is notorious for its hideous floral design—the bathroom, the outdoor gardening, even my own room is covered in roses. Damon's room is still covered in faintly painted flowers, however his hosts the stereotypical lily that I had expected to see when I first arrived at Lilydale. The only other time I've seen a lily here is when I was first invited to the society's meeting—the blood stained lily on my bed as a welcome present.

Design aside, Damon also has more belongings and furniture stashed around his room. A laptop is on the desk, along with a suitcase in the corner. Even from here, I can see his bathroom is filled with stuff—products, belongings. My room feels like a prison… but his feels like a college dorm.

Am I surprised? Of course not.

"So, we have an hour," Grey says, breaking my train of thought.

I snap my gaze back to him, nodding slowly. "I guess so. I'm sorry though—I had no idea you were here. I didn't know where I was going. Damon just came and told me to follow."

Grey nods in understanding. "It's fine. I should have known when he vanished earlier. I assumed he was just off running errands."

"He was," I confirm with a small smile. "I was the task."

"How have you been?" Grey asks softly, ignoring my comment. "I didn't see you today."

I try not to read too much into his use of singular presence, just giving a shrug in return. "They locked me in my room. Probably just another ploy to make me crack."

Grey's expression darkens. "Have you eaten?"

"Of course not," I laugh sarcastically. "But at least I was allowed to shower today. That's a plus."

He pauses. "They have been denying you showers?"

"Only a few times…" I trail off, face scrunching up at their latest tactic.

Grey notices, stilling. "What is it?"

"It's nothing," I sigh. "Just Whittingham trying to test limits."

"Tell me."

It's a demand, softly spoken but still housing enough power to bring an entire room to their knees—including me.

I stare at him apologetically. "The guards passed me a razor in the showers tonight. I think they were trying to coax me to end my own miserable existence."

I say it jokingly, trying to lighten the mood, but Grey stands up quickly, crossing the room to me.

"He did what ?"

The words are like a venomous stab, making me flinch. But it's a relief to know that it's not aimed at me this time.

Leaning down, I slip off my shoe, pulling back the sole. I trust him with this. If anyone knows what to do with a weapon, it's him.

Picking up the blade, I hold it up between us, watching his eye twitch as he scans the blade with narrowed eyes.

"That motherfucking cunt," he hisses, quickly grabbing the blade from my fingers.

"Yeah…" I answer, slipping my shoe back on. "They know I took it though. They did a search in my room."

Grey lowers his hand, closing his fist around the metal. "But you hid it," he points out, awe in his tone.

I nod. "I told them it fell down the drain hole, but I figured they wouldn't believe me. I'm not sure what to do with it."

"I'll look after it," he answers softly. "Hold on, I think Damon has some snacks stashed around here."

He lingers in front of me for a brief second, before pulling himself away to start looking through the desk drawers. There's a whole stack of candy bars inside, my stomach growling in excitement at the sight of food.

"Will he mind?" I ask wearily, leaning over to take a closer look.

Grey shakes his head. "It's our shared stash. I have some in my room too."

"You amaze me," I laugh quietly. "At least now I know why you always have chocolate—well, kinda."

He smiles to himself, pulling out a candy bar and handing it to me. "I think he has a bag of chips somewhere too. If you want something else, I could get it from the kitchen."

"We can't get out of here," I point out, nodding to the locked door.

Grey snorts, raising an eyebrow. "Can't I?"

I tilt my head in disbelief, before quickly admitting defeat.

They can do anything…

"The candy bar is okay," I tell him happily, ripping the wrapper open. "It will be enough until lunch tomorrow."

"Lunch?" he asks slowly. "Don't you mean breakfast?"

I shake my head. "Whittingham has assigned me to a task again in the morning. I definitely won't be eating breakfast. Possibly not lunch either, if I'm being honest."

Grey slams the desk drawer closed, making me jump.

"Fuck this," he growls angrily. "I've had enough of him."

"Hey," I whisper, reaching for his arm. "I can handle it. Don't stress."

Suddenly, he moves toward me, pushing me against the wall. I let out a silent gasp, staring up at him.

"You shouldn't have to handle it," Grey growls. "He's fucking with you. Torturing you, starving you, trying to make you kill yourself. I'm going to kill him myself."

My lips part in disbelief at his sudden shift in mood. "He's not worth it," I say, trying to calm him down. "Let him try his hardest. I'm not going to break. Your secrets are safe with me."

"You think this is just about Cirque des Morts ?" Grey asks. "It's more than that, little killer. He's targeting you to get back at us. We don't let shit like that slide."

Can he hear my heart pounding? It's all I can hear…

"Don't do something stupid just for me," I answer. "It's not worth it. You'll be removed from Lilydale and put into prison. You'll never get a chance to get out."

The anger in his face washes away as he stares at me incredulously. "You genuinely believe that, don't you?"

I frown. "Of course I do. It's the truth, isn't it? It's what was going to happen to me."

Something sinister flares up in his eyes, his gray irises darkening. "When I find out who framed you, I'll make their nightmares seem like a happy place. I promise you that, Avery."

My stomach turns in knots, the chocolate forgotten in my hand by my side. He has me caged in, his body flush against mine.

Danger resonates from him, bouncing around the room. I'm not scared though—not even a little bit. It's intoxicating, my body lighting up at his words.

This is the protective Grey I've missed. The one who made me feel like I was worth something, who would kill every single person in this place if they dared touch me.

The one I've been begging to come back.

"I don't want you to leave me," I whisper. "They might take you away."

Grey tilts his head slowly, eyes locked with mine. He looks at me knowingly.

"They haven't taken me away yet, have they?"

My eyebrows furrow together. "What do you mean?" I ask, confused.

A smile tugs on his lips, amused.

"Who do you think killed Hallman, little killer? He didn't take his own life. No—I ended it. I ended that sad, pathetic excuse of a man because he touched you. He tried to hurt what's mine."