Page 11 of Exile (Dance with My Demons #4)

Avery

The days that follow are strangely… routine . It's as if the birthday massacre—aptly named by Grey—never happened.

Except it did.

We're forced back into the usual formation, attending classes under watchful eyes, and shoved into the rooms of the questionable psychiatrists.

Thankfully, I'm still with Dr. Smith, though he seems just as uncertain as the rest of us regarding his so-called employment.

He doesn't voice it completely, but little comments and the change in his demeanor just confirm the shift in energy that's radiating through Lilydale.

That doesn't appear to slow him down though.

He makes a point of being overly engaging in our sessions, almost to the point of being obnoxious.

We've gone back several months and it takes all my strength not to be annoyed at his persistent questions about my feelings.

I understand where he's coming from. I know he's taking his role very seriously now after everything that happened.

But at the end of the day, I'm not okay.

Maybe on the surface I am, but people are still dead.

Not to mention Damon is still in hospital, patients are missing again, and at any moment, Alexander is going to pop up to make good on his threats.

No one is okay—even though we have to pretend that we are.

Despite all the new guards on patrol, I've yet to see Whitface since the day he poked his ugly mug into the hall. And when we finally get our hands on the new cell phones, it's apparent why.

"There's a whole bunch of news articles," I murmur, swinging my legs from atop the desk.

Grey looks up from the library table, nodding in agreement. "A few reek of Arthur, but there's a couple of local newspapers that have clearly gone rogue. Read the one from the Herald."

I click on the link in the list of articles. My eyes immediately get fixated on the title, eyebrows raising at the blunt directness.

PATIENTS SHOT. MANY DEAD IN REHAB CENTER BLOODBATH

Last Friday, 6th June, authorities were called to the Lilydale Foundation Center after reports of an altercation between staff and patients.

Upon arriving at the facility, initial reports suggested that several people were injured, with some suffering from gunshot wounds. In addition, staff and patients were also being treated for injuries relating to physical altercations.

The facility supervisor of Lilydale, Mr. Arthur Whittingham, gave a brief statement on the steps of the center, advising that several patients had started showing signs of aggression.

When staff were called to deal with the situation, patients allegedly became violent, resulting in four people being pronounced dead at the scene as well as multiple counts of injury.

"Unfortunately, it is part of the job to deal with situations such as these.

We are well equipped at the Lilydale Foundation Center to handle our patients, and empathize that they are on detailed, intimate programs to help them rehabilitate from their past crimes and upbringings.

Sadly, we lost members of staff today, and while we would never give up on patients, it is clear that some are not safe to return to the community despite our expert guidance and treatment programs," Mr. Whittingham stated to the reporters on scene.

Lilydale Foundation Center was established over half a decade ago by a private organization. During its tenure, it has claimed to have successfully rehabilitated hundreds of patients. However, this reporter has been unable to find evidence to support these statistics.

When asked about the deaths, Mr. Whittingham was unwilling to provide details. However, according to a spokesperson for the local hospital, several staff and patients were being treated for injuries, including one with a gunshot wound.

We reached out to Mr. Whittingham for further comment regarding this, but at the time of press, have not received a response.

"Wow," I murmur, lowering the screen. "They know about Damon. "

"I'm not surprised," Theo says from the corner of the room. He's leaning against the wall, one leg propped up with his arms folded. "Reporters will go to any lengths for a story. One even tried to sneak into Madison's funeral just to get inside details."

Frowning, I share a look with Grey, unsure just how much he knows about Theo's history. He nods in agreement about the reporters but doesn't prompt Theo for more information.

"And how did that work out?" I ask knowingly.

Theo shrugs. "I broke his camera… and his hand."

Yep. Called it.

Grey taps away on the keys of his cell, pausing before giving me a suspicious grin. "Check your phone in a minute, little killer."

I glance down at the same time it buzzes in my hand, a text message notification appearing. Clicking into it, I feel both sets of curious eyes on me, but it's momentarily forgotten as I read the message.

Damon: Hello wife.

"He's received the cell phone?" I ask excitedly, eyes blown wide.

Dr. Smith mentioned in our session earlier about taking a trip to the hospital to deliver the goods, but I didn't expect it to be this quick. Having a direct line to Damon suddenly feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders .

"Yep," Grey confirms, flashing me a Cheshire grin. "I'll no doubt be getting requests from him in the middle of the night. I'm fairly confident that Deadman doesn't actually sleep—or if he does it's with one eye open."

I don't respond, other than an amused snort, as I punch back a reply.

You better be resting and taking those pain meds.

Damon: Or what? Come and steal my buzzer again. I dare you.

"Arrogant shithead," I mutter, earning a laugh from Grey.

"You married him," Theo points out.

Swinging around to look at him, I cock an eyebrow. "Seriously. Again? You three are still in trouble for pulling that stunt without me knowing."

"Please," Grey laughs, tilting his chair back. "You sealed your fate the first day you slapped him."

Grumbling, I shake my head. "And here I thought the biggest issue was going to be Damon murdering me."

"It's still a life sentence. Just a different kind. It comes with benefits," Grey grins.

Before I can think of a witty comeback, the device buzzes again with a new message.

Damon: I trust the other two are looking after you. No doubt Grey is giving you some kind of shit right now.

"He's on to you," I laugh, glancing over at Grey. "So, I'd behave."

He stands and rounds the table, plucking the cell from my hand. I assume he's just going to read the message, so all I can do is yelp when he moves behind me and lifts my shirt. Before I can react or unfreeze, his hand grabs my tit, an obvious camera shutter sound coming from the device.

"Motivation," Grey says lazily. "To get back here."

I snatch the cell back just in time to see the photo send, my chest on full display and being groped by Grey. "I'd ask if you're insane, but we already know the answer to that," I mutter, fixing my shirt back into place.

As soon as it was shower time after I arrived back from the hospital, the guards took my precious sweatpants and cotton tee, shoving me back into the dull Lilydale uniform. They have probably burned my gifted attire, a thought that pisses me off but at the same time is no surprise.

The library is quiet as usual, though there's still the lingering scent of food from last night.

Grey and I both agreed that Leighton deserved a send-off in style, the whole Cirque des Morts family, sans Damon, honoring our fallen friend after Grey broke the news.

We stayed later than usual, swapping stories and drinking in Leighton's memory.

While it's all we can do at the moment, those assholes are going to pay for what they did to him—to all of us.

They are going to burn for taking someone from us.

It was also a chance to feed everyone properly, the kitchen staff more willing than ever to prepare the menu I created. We're going to need all the energy we can get for what's coming. Something tells me the kitchen staff aren't too pleased with Whitface and his bullshit either.

"Uh, oh," I mutter as the cell buzzes with Damon's reply. This can either go one of two ways—either he's standoffish about it or…

Damon: Grey, they deserve better attention than that. At least use your mouth.

"What did he say?" Grey asks, trying to sneak a peek.

I hide the cell, clutching it to my chest as I stroll over to Theo for protection. "Nice try," I tell him, leaning back against my dark, tattooed psycho.

Theo's arms wrap around me in a possessive grab, thoroughly shielding me from Grey.

Stormy irises narrow at the challenge, and for a moment, I start to wonder who would win in a fight.

They are both as strong and psychotic as each other.

If I wasn't worried about them both getting hurt, I'd almost pay to witness that fight.

Before I can fall down that steamy mental rabbit hole, a hand trails down my collarbone, snatching the cell and catching me off guard. Theo recites the text message word for word, much to the amusement of Grey.

"You goddamn traitor," I grunt in jest to Theo, attempting to break loose from his hold but he pins me to his frame.

Grey stalks over slowly and I realize very quickly that any thoughts of the two of them squaring off are irrelevant when I'm the prey. I can't overpower one of them, let alone both.

"You heard Deadman," Grey grins, lifting my shirt again and ripping it off, taking the cell from Theo.

Muscular arms pin mine to my sides, making it impossible to squirm away. I feel Grey's warm breath on my nipple before his tongue flicks at the tip, engulfing it in his mouth while snapping more pics.

Well, this has well and truly backfired on me in the best way.

Grey's hand cups my breast, fingers digging in as he teases me with his hot, wet mouth. My back arches against Theo, the man himself still pinning me as I bite my lip to stay quiet.