Page 56 of Exile

"A flight risk?" Damon spits out with disgust. "She's not a risk at all. Do not let anyone touch her. Grey—"

"I'm on it," I answer, begrudgingly handing the blowtorch back to him. While the idea of setting things alight soundsdelightful, I don't have the patience to be stopped by one of Arthur's minions for carrying a weapon.

I push past Connor and head straight for the library. It's empty to my disappointment, and a quick trip past Elsher's office confirms she's definitely not there either. Christopher's office is also vacant and for a moment, I'm actually stumped.

Normally, I'd consider the morgue but given we can't access the stairwell, there's no way Avery would be able to get past the doors.

The classrooms are also empty which only leaves one other option.

If I'm correct, which I believe I am, it means our girl is smart and quick thinking. It's the one place no one would check—practically in plain sight with witnesses.

Kitchen staff are wandering around the hall, setting up food for lunch. A few glance in my direction, and when one smiles uncharacteristically at me, I realize it's a sign I'm on the right path.

The doors swing open as I stroll in shamelessly, grinning at our good old grumpy friend. Tony pauses, letting out a sigh at my presence but not seeming surprised, before nodding his head to the other side of the room.

"In there."

"Well, thank you."

As soon as I rip open the freezer door, Avery glances up at me, her face softening. "Fancy meeting you here," she says with a smile.

I close the door behind me, tilting my head as I smirk at her. "Ever fucked in a freezer before, little killer?"

Chapter 21

Avery

I'm having the nicest dream about freshly baked cookies when I'm ripped back to consciousness. Pain shoots through me, jolting me awake, and through the dimly lit room, I spot two guards grabbing me. It feels like I'm reliving a nightmare from my past and I instinctively enter into fight-or-flight mode.

"What the hell are you doing?" I manage to croak out, a yelp following as my shin clips the metal frame of the bed.

Neither of them respond. I'm dragged from the room, mind quickly becoming more alert as I take in my surroundings while attempting to deescalate my racing heart. From the hallway, I can see the sun starting to rise outside Lilydale, the first light of the day already tainted and ruined by flashbacks and SWAT wannabes.

And of course, history repeats itself as I'm pulled painfully through the quiet corridors toward Whittingham's office. Besides the three of us, there's no other living beings in sight—not even Dr. Smith or Dr. Markel.

One of the guards releases his hold on me, pushing open the office door to reveal Arthur Whittingham and AlexanderDale, dressed in their usual tailored suits. They both look at me casually, unbothered by my disheveled physique.

"Good morning, Avery," Alexander greets coldly. "I take it you slept well?"

The tone of his voice indicates he couldn't give a shit whether I slept at all. Before I can think of a snarky reply, I'm forced into a nearby chair by the desk, rough hands pinning me down by the shoulders.

I take a moment to survey the room, lips twitching with slight amusement at the bandage still on Whitface's hand from where I stabbed him with the pen. He scowls at me, flashing me a murderous look of rage.

"How's the hand?" I ask with a snort, any functions of a filter non-existent this early in the morning.

"Enough," Alexander cuts me off, leaning against the desk. "I'm not above having the doctors silence you, Avery."

"Given you shot your own son on his birthday, I think there's very little you wouldn't do, Alexander."

He chuckles quietly to himself as he reflects back on the memory like the sick fuck he is. "Is the transport ready?"

I know he's not directing the question to me, but I can't resist chiming in, blood running cold. "What transport?"

"Yes," Whitface answers dryly. "These two guards will accompany you and Ms. White."

"What is going on?" I snap.

Where the fuck are they taking me?