Page 39 of Exile (Dance with My Demons #4)

Damon

** Five Years Ago **

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Damon."

I instantly recognize the softly spoken voice, and despite my deliberate efforts to ignore everyone here, I choose to turn and acknowledge her .

"It's nice to see you, Mrs. Whittingham."

She looks a lot better, unlike me to be honest. Divorce is a fresh start, an exit from toxicity. Death is just… final.

"Your mother was an amazing woman," Mrs. Whittingham murmurs, placing a hold on my arm. "I owe her my life."

And Mom paid with hers.

I don't blame this woman though. If anything, I'm happy she managed to escape the clutches of her abusive husband.

"She will be sorely missed," I confirm emotionlessly.

She offers a sad smile, but my attention is forced elsewhere. Someone is yelling, and Mrs. Whittingham sighs out loud at the exact moment I pinpoint the culprit.

Arthur fucking Whittingham .

That pathetic, useless excuse of a man is pointing at us, while my father nods sternly. Clicking his fingers at security, Father gestures to us.

Red, hot fury begins to pulse through my veins. He can't even give her this —the last time any of us will ever come together for Mom and he's trying to control it. Manipulation is what he loves best, and I'm not surprised in the slightest that he's attempting to ruin this moment.

A bulky security guard in black wanders over, puffing up his steroidal chest. But before he can utter the expected words to Mrs. Whittingham, I punch him square in the face.

The small crowd around us gasp and cry out at the commotion, and I take a moment to enjoy the stunned looks of disbelief on the faces of the older men. It just proves that my father doesn't know me at all. If he believes I'll let him pull his bullshit today, he's dead wrong.

"Everyone stays!" I say in a raised voice while glaring straight at him across the lawn. "Today is about Lily—my mother . We're here to honor her memory and everyone is welcome."

It does the job as people—strangers, colleagues, distant family members—all turn to gawk at my father like he got his audacity on sale or stole it like the tightass he is. He sputters angrily, storming off toward his awaiting private town car .

I knew he wouldn't stay long. This was nothing but a publicity appearance for him. Today, he's playing his most hated role—a husband. Being a father a close second.

"Thank you," Mrs. Whittingham whispers, giving my arm a squeeze. "You're just like her, you know that? Lily would be so proud of you, Damon."

I wish I could believe that. I was Mom's pride and joy, but let's not pretend I'm not a carbon copy of the asshole escaping the consequences of his actions.

Mom was beautiful, elegant, graceful. She was the sunshine, the moon, and the whole fucking galaxy. But my father and I are cut from the same cloth. We crave power, control, fear. Caring and emotions are weaknesses that should be hidden at all costs. And Mom's death is the exact reason why.

He knew I loved her, so he removed the perceived obstacle out of the way.

This was nothing more than a strategy to hurt us both, and now, he's going to come after me, to exploit that love I had for my mother.

He uses people against each other, pawns in a chess match where he believes he's untouchable.

This is why we don't love, why we don't give someone any reason to find weaknesses.

It's my fault she's dead.

Alexander Dale is all about appearances. Having a doting wife in public helped him. But the more I stood up to him and protected her, the angrier he got. Because she chose me over him. Until finally, he took her from me.

She was collateral damage in our game of war .

And it didn't help that Mom helped Mrs. Whittingham escape the clutches of her asshole husband. Because in his eyes, if Mom was willing to do that for another woman, what was to stop her from walking away too?

"Look after yourself, Mrs. Whittingham," I say with finality, needing to get out of here before Christopher comes over and I am forced to bury him in a vacant shallow grave. He's had his eye on me for the past five minutes and I'm in no mood to deal with my cousin and his snide remarks right now.

"You too, Damon," she replies. "And for the record, I've reverted back to my maiden name. But please… call me Rose."

"Next one goes in your fucking head," I warn, gun pointing at my father. I can see the bruise forming on Avery's face, blood trickling down her cheek as she fights back pain.

They fucking touched her.

My. Fucking. Wife.

That bumbling idiot of a psychiatrist flattens himself against the wall while Arthur ducks down behind his desk. Of course, my father doesn't flinch at all, grabbing Avery's shoulder and spinning them around as he uses her as a human shield against me .

Wrong choice, asshole.

"I'm disappointed in you, Damon," he remarks, his own barrel pressing into Avery's temple. "Your ability to protect your wife is just as impressive as your skill in keeping your mother safe."

Avery's eyes are blown wide, trained on me as she stays still. I meet them for a brief moment, silently telling her that I've got her. If anything, she appears more terrified by my presence, eyes darting between me and the gun lined up with the side of her head. Like she's worried I'll get hurt.

I know this emotional manipulation tactic is merely an attempt to throw off my control. He brings up my mother whenever he can, in the hope that I'll overreact and provide him with a clear opportunity to overpower me. Clearly, it hasn't worked before. Which is why he's now using Avery as well.

When Byrone called me to inform us that Avery was spotted heading downstairs solo, I admit I did make the wrong decision.

I should have known that she wouldn't be doing that, but in the moment, all I felt was the unwavering need to protect her and simultaneously scold her for being stupid.

I panicked. We should have checked Christopher's office, but they led us to believe he was leaving the facility in a rush.

I had no reason to doubt Byrone, nor did it occur to me that it was a trap.

All I knew was I had to get to her before it was too late .

I stupidly thought that with an investigation underway, no one would dare step out of line.

After all, appearances matter. But I overestimated Alexander Dale.

For once, he overreacted. Instead of doing the smart thing and lying low until the authorities did their checks, he let his emotions get the better of him—knowing we've got him right where we want him.

And in turn, I was foolish to expect him to be sensible.

And now… he wants to take away the only other person I've ever loved. Just like he did Mom.

Guards had immediately swarmed us downstairs, but we knew they were coming.

Barely downstairs for longer than a few minutes and Connor had alerted us to what was really happening.

Still, it took a bit of time to deal with them all.

Grey and Theo handled most of it, giving me the opportunity to head straight here.

I knew this is where I would find my father.

And as soon as I realized what was going down, I anticipated this moment, stealing Connor's gun.

Even though I was prepared to find Avery in some kind of trouble, I'm still having difficulty keeping my control in check, watching as he threatens her life. It's taking all of my willpower to remain focused, to not let my emotions get the better of me. One wrong move and Avery is as good as dead.

"I'm disappointed in you as well, Father," I tell him casually. "It's unlike you to make stupid decisions. I guess we both feel deceived in that regard. "

He scowls at me, anger washing over my entire body as his hand grasps Avery painfully, her face contorting as she soundlessly tries to hide the fact she's hurting.

"We're at a crossroads," Father points out. "What are you going to choose, Damon? Your wife or your so-called self-proclaimed legacy?"

"It's remarkable that you assume I only have one option," I say coolly. "But rest assured, I intend to fulfil my promise today. You've just sweetened the motivation that much more. Even if you did try to sneak in that board member's son."

Cocking his eyebrow, he laughs sinisterly. "That boy was nothing but a failure. But I think you have forgotten one key factor, Damon."

"Enlighten me."

"Once I end Avery's life, I become her sole beneficiary.

If you attempt to harm me, you'll never leave this place.

My estate documents ensure that you'll never receive anything, nor will you be able to gain any power with the board.

Legally, you'll forfeit any position of power you have, and you'll be transferred to prison for the rest of your life.

Everyone you care about in here will remain under Arthur's supervision, and I promise you—they will wish they were dead when we're through with them.

This investigation will blow over and your efforts will have been for nothing. "

Avery's lips twitch, capturing my attention. Her eyes relax, almost as if she's internally laughing. For a moment, I admit I'm perplexed—questioning her mental health in this moment. My father still has the tip of his gun pressed into her head, yet she doesn't seem fazed at all now.

On cue, he notices that my attention is elsewhere, and despite my best efforts to hide the suspicion from my face, he correctly deduces that Avery has done something.

Her poker face isn't as perfected as ours, and I nearly snap and break when he grabs her chin, aggressively twisting her face toward him.

"What are you doing?" he growls at her.

I take a step forward, gun trained on him but Avery just laughs out loud. Every sensation in my physique is heightened as danger grows, my finger resting against the trigger, ready to pull it at any moment.

"You're wrong," she tells him amused. "How does it feel?"

"What are you talking about?" he demands loudly.

Her eyes dart over to me before returning to his. "You're not my beneficiary," she answers calmly—too settled for the tension in the room.

An eerie silence drifts over the room while everyone attempts to process her words. My father changes positions, shoving the barrel under her chin with quick precision.

"You signed the Will," he snarls.

"I did," she agrees, smoothly lifting an eyebrow. "But you failed to realize one simple thing…"

"Spit it out."

Avery smiles, eyes dancing with unhinged delight. "You failed to realize that I could just sign… another one . "

There's about a three second delay as her words sink in before utter chaos breaks out. My father's face flushes bright red with rage while my chest expands with pride.

She created another obstacle. Another barrier to block him. All by herself.

Her death would give me the power to bring him down, unless he was able to kill both of us before we retaliated.

Which we all know there's no chance of that. She sacrificed herself, destroyed part of his plan, making it worthless.

It's as if everything moves in slow motion; his body tensing, finger twitching against the trigger. That near perfect control breaks as his emotions overpower him—embarrassment, failure. Everything he hates.

I have only a fraction of a second to react, knowing what's coming if I don't move quickly.

Aiming, I don't hesitate to pull the trigger, the bang deafening the room. My bullet hits him in the shoulder, his arm dropping and the gun moving away from Avery as he clutches his bleeding wound while snarling and cursing.

William attempts to rush forward to grab Avery from behind, but I fire at him too, hitting him perfectly in the forehead. He drops to the ground like a sack of shit, dead before he can even stain the carpet. I wanted to prolong his torture, but in this moment, I'll settle for his death.

I spot Arthur duck behind the desk again like the coward he is, and I cross the threshold, ripping Avery behind me as I stand in front of my father as he hunches over, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Allez en enfer," I tell him in French, knowing just how much he hated Mom's fascination with Paris. It's why I learned the language, after all. Why I named the society Cirque des Morts .

His eyes widen as I bring the gun to the bridge of his nose, smiling fondly as I pull the trigger without another thought—twice for good measure.

Bang. Bang.

Alexander Dale drops to the floor as blood splatters over my face and chest, quickly pooling at our feet. I barely notice Arthur scampering out from behind the desk, rushing to the door to run away.

I'll get him later. Right now, I take a moment to enjoy the feeling of seeing my father's dead body on the ground.

It's over. He can't hurt anyone ever again.

My chest heaves with deep breaths as reality sinks in. I finally fulfilled my promise to Mom, and fuck it feels so damn good.

Arms curl around me from behind, Avery resting her forehead against my back.

I spin around, searching her face carefully—checking for signs that she's terrified of who I am and what I'm capable of. But there's nothing, just need as she grabs my face and smashes her lips to mine .

As I kiss her back, I hear running footsteps screeching to a halt, before Grey's voice float into the room.

"Ohh," he says amused. "Look at that. We missed all the action. Ding dong, the bitch is dead."