Echoes (Dance with My Demons #2)

20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Grey

There he is.

Immediately, I'm ready to kill him. Before my feet have even taken three steps, I've already planned at least seven different ways to permanently delete him.

Shame there's an audience though.

I push past other patients as I cross the hall, eyes locked in on my target. He doesn't even glance up as I approach, though I notice his body tensing up. He can sense me, but he's not at all worried or fearful. And that fucking pisses me off.

"Ashwood," I growl, resting my hands on the table across from him.

Theo fucking Ashwood finally glances up, eyes narrowing on me. He barely moves at all, just peering up at me with his head tilted down.

"What?" he snaps back.

I twitch, the weight of the razor blade in my pocket heavy as I resist the urge to whip it out and give him a matching scar to my own neck.

"We need to talk," I say through clenched teeth.

People around us look over, doing their best to hide their curiosity but it's so obvious. A few people quickly move away, while others nudge their companions and point to us.

They think shit is about to go down.

Even the guards against the wall have taken notice, hands on their tasers and guns. The thought makes me laugh. I know Theo's reputation precedes him—I've witnessed his encounters before when people have tried to approach him. He's dangerous, unpredictable. But guess what?

So the fuck am I.

I'm worse, actually. Because I have something to lose, something I just got back.

And I have to be amicable with this fucker right here.

"I'm not the talking type," Ashwood responds sarcastically. "Perhaps find another person to converse with."

I straighten up, laughing. There's a clear radius around us of people who immediately scatter or panic.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a guard taking a step toward us, ready to intervene. I glare at him with a smirk, not familiar with him.

He doesn't know better yet. Obviously a new hire who thinks he has a cock made of gold. But even gold melts when met with fire.

I shake my head at him, watching as another guard rushes over to whisper something in his ear. He looks bewildered for a second, stilling.

"Listen here, asshole," I say, returning my attention to Ashwood. "This is about Avery."

Even the mere mention of her name rocks me. It's like a poetic tsunami—large waves drowning me but bringing such peace. Apparently, it has the same effect on Ashwood, because he looks up properly, his sneer dropping.

"Is she okay?" he asks sincerely.

I hate that he cares. At the same time, it also buys him a few more seconds of his precious life.

"She's fine," I tell him casually, looking at my black nails. "More than fine last night, actually."

Ashwood leans back from the table, folding his arms. "Is this your poor attempt at making me jealous?"

"Not at all," I taunt. "Just reiterating that she's alive and well."

"I should hope so," he replies. "Because if anything happens to her while in your care, I'll dig your grave myself."

My eyes snap to his angrily. "She's safer with me than with you," I spit out.

He rolls his eyes. "Is that a fact? Because it seems to me you're not doing a good enough job since she's been taken away again these past few days."

I slam my hands on the edge of the table, gasps echoing around the room as people start to get frightened. I need to rein it in. The whole point of this conversation was so I could try to be civil for Avery's sake. But fuck me, this asshole isn't making it easy.

"You know very well that Arthur Whittingham does whatever the fuck he wants," I hiss under my breath.

Ashwood leans forward, raising an eyebrow. "And yet when she returned from prison, you were nowhere to be seen. Who was there for her? Me. Not you and your little group of friends."

My jaw twitches. "That might have something to do with the fact that you took her from me."

"I didn't do shit," he fires back. "Avery is a grown-ass woman. She can make her own decisions and be with whomever she wants."

Well, at least we are back on track now.

"And here we are," I sneer. "So, get your ass up and follow me. We have a few things to discuss."

I watch with frustration as he looks away, picking up a faded brown napkin from his food tray and dabs his mouth slowly. Taking his time, he finally stands, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Lead the way then, Hawthorne. I don't have all day."

Some might say I'm a masochist.

And I guess they would be correct.

Of all the places I could have picked for this discussion, I chose here.

The fucking morgue.

Well, at least they won't have to take his body far when I gut him.

Ashwood glances lazily around the room, not at all fazed by it. He doesn't even look surprised. Then again, everyone knows that Damon and I go where ever the fuck we want in this place.

But if he's shocked that I know about the incident in the morgue with Avery, he doesn't show it.

"Are you going to speak or are we just going to stand awkwardly until the guards drag us back upstairs?" he grunts.

I lean against the mortuary cabinet, slapping my hand against the metal door. "I just thought I'd bring you somewhere that you are familiar with. You know, to help make you comfortable."

He rolls his eyes, leaning against the pure stainless steel instrument cabinet on the other side of the room. "Is there an actual point to this rendezvous? You said you wanted to chat about Avery."

Frustration threatens to send me over the edge. This asshole is refusing to bite.

I need to fight. I need to argue.

I need to spill blood.

But he won't fucking bite at all.

"You fucked Avery in this cabinet," I point out. "Why?"

Ashwood raises an eyebrow. "Why did I have sex with Avery? Or are you questioning whether I have kinks that you might be interested in pursuing?"

"She's mine."

"We've already covered that, Hawthorne. Get on with the point."

Taking a breath, I remind myself that this is for Avery. And that Damon had promptly warned me not to murder anyone today.

"I don't like you," I spit out. "But I love Avery. And for some reason, she likes you."

He doesn't say anything in response, but locks eyes with me, acknowledging that he's listening.

"For the sake of her, I'm willing to not rip out your organs one by one."

"How delightful," he mocks. "I could easily break your neck and make it look like an accident. But that's beside the point."

I kick the mortuary cabinet hard as I spring forward, stalking across the room toward him. We're around the same height, but I tower over his relaxed, slouched posture. "I'm going to be civil for Avery. At the end of the day, she deserves to be happy. But if you cross me, or if you hurt her, I'll end you."

A half-smile curls on his lips. "The feeling is mutual. Try not to toss her aside again."

My hands reach out and grab the neck of his shirt as I slam his back into the cabinet. He doesn't flinch at all, smirking at me.

"Did I hit a nerve?" he asks in a low voice. "You're so caught up in whatever little scheme you have running here. You're Damon's little bitch and everyone knows it."

"What the fuck is going on?"

The sound of her voice stills me. I glance over my shoulder at the door, spotting a horrified looking Avery. The black familiar staff card is in her hand, eyes wide as she glances between me and Ashwood.

"Hey, little killer," I grin, still holding onto the scruff of Ashwood's shirt. "Fancy seeing you here."

I knew she'd be here. I asked Damon to set it up.

It might be the only chance for the three of us to have some privacy to sort this out. Or, at the very least, she would stop me from killing her friend.

"Grey," she whispers, eyes dropping to my clenched fists. "Let go of Theo."

I scrunch up my nose, waiting a few seconds before dropping him carelessly. He straightens up behind me as I turn to face her.

"We're just having a little discussion," I tell her fondly. "About you."

Her eyes drift over to Theo with concern and it takes everything in me to fight the ugly green monster that's threatening to break loose.

A hand slaps onto my shoulder, making my face curl up in disgust.

"We're civil ," Ashwood mutters. "Aren't we, Grey ?"

I shrug his hand off my shoulder, taking a few steps away from him. Composing myself, I grin at Avery, nodding.

"Good friends now. See—I'm making an effort."

Avery looks at me wearily. "Really?" she asks in disbelief.

Ashwood laughs under his breath. "It's fine, Avery," he tells her calmly.

She visibly relaxes a little. "That's… good," she answers hesitantly.

Seeing her in person, color back in her cheeks, starts to send a wave of calm through me. I know she was dragged to that cunt's office again this morning, and when I didn't see her at breakfast, I knew we had to do something.

And the fact that she's here means the plan with Damon went smoothly.

Well, as smooth as things can go when it comes to Deadman. I have no doubt he caused some havoc on the way.

"You weren't at breakfast," I say softly.

Avery looks at me, nodding. "Whittingham strikes again."

"He's never punished like this before," Ashwood chimes in. "What's the deal?"

I take a deep breath. "Avery's the deal. He's trying to overpower everyone."

"Right," he replies slowly, contemplating my words. "I assume because of you ."

The way he says it, I know he's referring to us as a whole, rather than just me. Still, I'm tempted to inflict harm again, so I do the only reasonable thing.

I walk away from him, over to Avery, pulling her into my chest for a hug. She relaxes against me as I breathe in her scent, letting her presence control my temper.

Also, it's an added bonus to get to rub it into Ashwood's face.

"It's not like that," Avery tells him, resting her cheek on my arm to look at him. "I'm okay though."

"Have you eaten?" I ask her.

She nods. "Damon and I swung by the kitchen."

My eyebrows raise as I rest my chin on her head. Thankfully, she can't see my expression. The plan was to get Avery away from Whittingham and back to me. I knew I would need to organize food based on Arthur's history, but that was all Damon. We never discussed that.

"Good," I reply, letting her go. "Now, there's only one thing left to do."

"Oh?" she asks, looking over at Ashwood. She looks like she wants to go to him and the thought kills me. But against my better judgment, I give her back a little nudge, pushing her in his direction.

Her feet shuffle along the ground on their own accord before she takes control, walking over to Ashwood to embrace him in a hug.

I watch them, his hands curling around her back as he holds her tight. Waves of emotion hit me—too many to singularly focus on. Anger, betrayal, hurt. A tiny voice inside mimics my father's voice screaming that she's a cheater. But I know better. I'm stronger than he was.

Slowly, I observe them, fighting back the jealousy. Avery glances over to me, a smile appearing on her face. It's the brightest one I've seen in a while from her… and it's aimed at me .

She's happy.

And I did that.

Conflict tears at me, but seeing her look at me with that usual loving gaze while holding him, starts to build those bricks that were knocked down.

She's still looking at me the same.

She's at peace.

And as much as I hate it, Ashwood is right. He was there for her. He's protected her on more than one occasion, especially when I couldn't.

I hate these unfamiliar feelings but I hold onto that look on her face right now, letting it ground me.

"The only thing left to do," I start, smiling at her. "Is to invite Theo to the meeting tonight."