Page 38 of Exile (Dance with My Demons #4)

Avery

After our game of chess, I stand in the hallway awkwardly.

To my surprise, there's no one .

No guard, no sign of the guys.

And since everyone is still in their rooms, no patients.

It's dead.

Dr. Smith appears in the doorway behind me, frowning. "They aren't here yet?"

I shake my head. "Not unless they found a way to make themselves invisible. As tempting as ghost sex sounds, I'm going to guess they aren't here."

"I didn't need that imagery, but thank you," he sighs, motioning for me to follow him. "We'll check the other rooms."

We reach Dr. Markel's rooms but that's empty as well, not a single lullaby to be heard.

"Maybe the male dorms?" I offer, suddenly hearing the sound of footsteps as soon as the words leave my mouth.

Turning around, I expect to find the guys heading our way, but instead, we're face to face with Whittingham.

"Christopher," he snarls. "Ms. White—you are required to head back to your room after session."

My eyes darken and narrow. "We're just fine without the directions, thank you."

Dr. Smith places his hand on my shoulder. "I'll escort her there now. We were just looking for her assigned guard."

Whitface cocks an eyebrow. "They are currently busy dealing with an urgent matter. I'll accompany you to the Eastwood Wing."

I don't like the sound of that, but what choice do we have?

Slowly, I pivot, walking ahead as I start to make my way to the girls' dorm. What the hell did he mean they were busy with an urgent matter? That must be why the guys aren't here.

Oh, my God. Are they hurt? Has someone done something to them?

I want to voice all my concerns out loud to Dr. Smith, to send him on the search, but with Whittingham bringing up the rear, we can't risk it.

Dr. Smith is smart though—surely he'll do it anyway.

Plus I'll try calling them when I'm back in the room.

My cell is down my bra, concealed as best as possible.

I wouldn't put it past anyone to check my pockets, so the boobs are the safest bet.

Stopping in front of my room, Whittingham opens the door when Dr. Smith makes no effort to do it for him. Holding it open, he motions for me to enter.

"Inside, Ms. White," he snaps irritably.

I chuck a quick glance at Dr. Smith over my shoulder, hoping to hell he can understand what I'm pleading with my eyes. He gives me a quick, subtle nod when Whitface isn't looking, and knowing we're on the same page, I step inside.

Facing the door, I meet the supervisor's eyes, the two of us sharing a mutual heated look of hatred. But then his lips twist into a dark smirk, unsettling my stomach.

The door slams closed in my face, and immediately I dive for the cell in my bra, ignoring the terrible boob sweat that coats the cell.

I try Damon first, pacing as I listen to the call go unanswered. When he doesn't pick up, I try Grey with the same result. Theo's cell doesn't even ring at all which scares the hell out of me.

Is he in solitary confinement? Did they fix the door that they blowtorched off?

Clutching my stomach, I think I might actually be sick. I try to gaslight myself that everything is fine—that there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this. But that smug bastard's smirk plays over and over in my head.

Something is happening, I just know it. There's no other possibility as to why the guys are nowhere to be seen and aren't able to answer their cells.

We promised we'd stick together in numbers. They wouldn't leave me alone.

Trying a different tactic, I breathe out a tiny sigh of relief when the feminine voice floats down the line.

"Avery? "

"Jillian," I choke out. "Do you know where Damon is? I just finished my session with Dr. Smith and I can't find anyone."

I hear shuffling noises in the background before the unmistakable sound of a laptop opening and whizzing to life.

"I'll check the cameras," she says. "I'm still stuck in my room."

"What?" I question. "Can't you just let yourself out?"

"I could," she confirms. "But Damon asked me not to. He doesn't want to alert anyone to our movements. Byrone and I have been keeping a watch on the feeds but nothing unusual has happened according to our observations."

Rubbing my forehead, I squeeze my eyes closed. "Something is happening. I just know it."

"They are in Markel's office," she announces. "The three of them, talking to him by the looks of it."

"N-no," I sputter. "That's not right. I just checked his office. It was empty…"

More gaslighting—except this time it's not self-inflicted.

I definitely was just at his office and there was no sight of them.

If they went there after we left, we most definitely would have crossed paths with them.

Not to mention that my session time is over.

They know what time it finished so they would be looking for me.

"Are you sure?" she asks, unconvinced. "I'm looking at the camera feed right now."

"I'm sure," I murmur warily. "Jillian, are you sure you're watching the correct feed? "

"What do you mean? It's a live feed."

"Is it though?" I question sharply. "They were heading in the direction of Markel's office at the start of my session. That was over an hour ago."

She falls silent, clicking a few keys before letting out a soft hiss. "Shit. You're right. The time stamp is off."

"Jillian, they are replaying the feed. They know you're watching so they are fucking with us. Something is happening ," I reiterate urgently.

"Okay," she murmurs, her own panic laced in her voice. "Let me call Byrone and we'll come check. Just hang tight for a few minutes and I'll break you out."

I can't speak. My throat is closing up. All I can manage is a nod, and even though she can't see it, she hangs up anyway to dial Byrone.

Trying the guys' cells again, I keep ringing over and over like an obsessed psychopath.

A few minutes later, I hear the tap and ding outside my door, springing to my feet to greet Jillian. As I go to reach for the door to pull it open, I stop dead in my tracks at the unexpected figure. Or more so, the gun pointing at my face.

"Avery," Alexander greets coldly, standing in his usual freshly pressed expensive designer suit. "Come with me, please."

When I make no effort to move, completely frozen in place, he cocks the hammer in warning. "Don't test my patience today, child. "

"Fine," I snap, launching into action. "I'm coming."

He looks pleased at my compliance, using the gun to direct me to walk in front of him.

The female corridor is empty, but as I pass Jillian's door, I notice it's cracked slightly. "Where are we going, Alexander?" I ask with a raised voice to alert her to the situation.

"You'll find out soon enough," he responds sharply.

Weaving through the Lilydale maze, I find myself in Whittingham's office, the man himself sitting behind the desk. I shoot him another glare full of disgust, my heart racing when I realize we're the only three people here.

Where are the guys?

"Now, Avery," Alexander begins, pressing the gun into my spine. "It's come to our attention that someone made a formal allegation against the board in regards to the conduct of the facility. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

I shake my head. "No idea."

Whittingham purses his lips, narrowing his eyes on me. "You're lying."

"Nope," I answer casually, voice surprisingly strong despite the panic that's flooding through me. "I assume you're here to fill me in on the details as a shareholder."

I wince as Alexander shoves the barrel harder into my back.

"We're not here to play games, Avery. We are well aware that you know of the situation.

It's thanks to your little stunt that all our records have been seized and we've been provided notice that they are coming to do a check of the facility. "

"Not to mention the state of the lab downstairs," Arthur adds venomously. "We saw the footage. You set it on fire."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," I say through clenched teeth.

I'm well aware that there's cameras down there, so chances are they most definitely watched me burn it.

That also means they witnessed me killing Rian Thatcher.

I can already sense where this is going.

They are going to throw me under the bus, blame me for murder.

Anything to distract the relevant authorities from the truth.

Footsteps behind me alert us to another presence. I don't dare move, but judging by Whittingham's look of acknowledgment, it's someone I don't want here.

"William. Finally," he says, and my eyes darken as the man appears in my peripheral vision.

Elsher watches me closely before turning his attention to Whittingham. "The guards have managed to subdue them downstairs."

My chest clenches painfully when I realize they are talking about my guys. What the hell were they doing down there?

Alexander spots me tensing up, dragging the barrel down my back. "You really should know better than to head to the morgue unsupervised," he taunts.

"What are you talking about?" I snap back angrily, earning myself another painful jab .

Whittingham laughs darkly, his amusement pissing me off.

"We sent them down there to search for you.

Damon's team are quite easy to fool. All we had to do was replay old footage of you and they walked straight into our trap.

Ironic, given they passed you in Christopher's office and didn't stop to check. We should thank you, really."

"Why?" I croak out, feeling my strength start to fade into panic.

Alexander's cold hand brushes my hair off my neck.

I resist the urge to vomit as his fingers caress the junction between my throat and shoulder.

"You're the weakness we've been waiting for—the one thing that Damon loses focus over.

Now, once we kill you, we'll be able to finish what we started. So, thank you, Avery."

I refuse to cry. I refuse to let these men see me beg for my life.

They are wrong. I'm not Damon's weakness—I'm his strength. And whatever happens to me, I've protected Damon. Alexander won't get his grubby hands on those shares.

Elsher growls, stomping over uncharacteristically toward me. I have no time to react, even without the gun pressed into my back, as he flings his arm forward and slaps me hard in the face. "Not to mention you killed my nephew. You are exactly who I thought you were, Ms. White."

I stumble into Whittingham's desk with a wince, clutching my cheek as my ears ring. Fuck—he hits even harder than Alexander. "I didn't kill anyone," I lie through clenched teeth, feeling blood dribble down my cheek.

Arthur leans forward, hitting a key on his laptop before spinning it around to face me. There, in black and white, is me and Theo in the downstairs lab. I'm very visibly dousing chemicals everywhere before Rian steps into the view of the camera.

My eyes widen in horror—not because they have me on footage committing murder, but because…

"Rian was your nephew?" I finally mumble at Elsher.

He doesn't reply, but the loathing in his eyes confirms my question.

Swallowing, I ignore the footage playing, willing myself to stay calm. "I thought Rian was related to a board member—Henry."

If I distract them, maybe it will buy me some time.

I'm also hoping that somehow, the cameras in here will pick up our conversation and Byrone can access it.

If investigators are coming, this is the evidence we need to bring them down.

Our camera was destroyed, but maybe Jillian can access to Lilydale feed if they haven't been blocked out.

If I can talk about the investigation, maybe I can incriminate them.

But they know this too… and they are still willing to kill me for it. If they are going down, then what do they have to lose?

Alexander knows we've backed him into a corner. Knows we've fucked them. I'm the punishment, the collateral damage as they resort to extreme measures to bring down Damon before their world comes crashing down.

"My brother-in-law," Elsher spits out. "You little bitch. I knew you'd kill again. That's all you're capable of."

I bite my lip painfully when Alexander moves the gun to my head, pointing the barrel directly into my skull. "Any last words, Avery?"

"Yeah," I breathe out, shooting a quick glance at Elsher before sneering at Whittingham. "Go to fucking Hell."

Bang.