Page 5 of Exile

"Loosen the fucking cuffs," I snap in frustration, losing my cool.

His work companion, a slightly older woman in her late twenties, doesn't seem to share his amusement. She doesn't quite roll her eyes at him, but they do flare for a moment. He laughs enough for the both of them though, drawing more attention from waiting patients as he ignores me.

I hate it.

Finally, a nurse stops in front of them, holding a manila folder in her hands.

"You can bring her into the consultation room," she says softly, glancing over Captain Asshole's shoulder to smile at me.

Her aging skin is flawless, and on a better day, I'd ask for her skincare routine. But I just lock eyes with her hazel ones, offering a small smile back.

"Fineee," the asshole scoffs, as if inconvenienced by doing his damn job. If he was doing it properly, he'd be at Lilydale, arresting the real villains.

Stalking over to me, he's rough again, making sure to slam my hands into the table as he uncuffs me from the metal link that's securing me to the bolted-down furniture. Before he can readjust the cuffs to tighten them again, the female officer chimes in.

"Leave them off, Harry. She's a patient, for God sake."

"She's a criminal, Emma. Probably shot up half that hallway."

The nurse steps into the room, making her way over to me. "I'll take her from here, Officer. Why don't you go get a coffee?"

Harry—Captain Asshole—looks between us for a brief second, unfazed at being dismissed. If anything, he looks overjoyed. "Alrighty then."

Who the hell saysalrightythese days? Loser.

When the two cops disappear down the corridor, the nurse turns to face me, tucking a piece of sandy blonde hair behind her ear.

"Hi, sweetheart. I'm Alyssa. You can come with me."

Her still-soft tone instantly soothes me, which is a milestone achievement in itself. The demons plaguing my mind don't vanish, but her presence does ease some of the tension in my muscles.

Following her through large double doors into the ER, I'm taken to another small room. No table this time—I'm treated like a human—Alyssa gesturing for me to sit on the bed as she flicks the curtain closed to give us a bit of privacy.

I start trying to think of an excuse for being here, an injury that I can pretend needs treatment. But I'm frozen… because the truth is the only thing that hurts is my heart. Damon protected me, keeping me out of the line of fire.

Against his own flesh and blood.

I want nothing more than to find him, to ask how he's doing, but I can't.

Surprisingly, she doesn't ask where it hurts, her wrinkled hands flicking open the folder again. Her eyes scan over something, a frown tugging at her lips. Finally, she glances up at me, a tight smile appearing.

"You might not remember me, Avery. But I remember you."

Chapter 3

Grey

"You better start talking," I growl quietly at Christopher, taking in his frazzled expression. Ha—some psychiatrist he is. Aren't they supposed to be calm and composed in an emergency? I guess, bloodied knuckles aside, maybe I could have a career as a doctor.

Likes blood—check.

Remainssomewhatcalm in an emergency—check.

Able to remove limbs—double check.

At least he had the foresight to hold the Westwood main door open with a stack of books before the power went out. But then again, the real question is, "How did you get into the male dorms without power?"

He pauses in front of the main hall doors, glancing over at me. "I triggered the emergency switch."