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I whip around, eyes wild with every disgusting emotion humanly possible, finding Damon leaning against the wall on his bed.
We've been in his room for two hours, nearly three. And I'm losing my fucking mind.
I have half a mind to leave—because I fucking can—but he's the only thing anchoring me at the moment. From the momentthat cunt Arthur ordered everyone to their rooms, I was on edge. Avery's cries still echo in my head, the image of her being shoved into the wall and handcuffed… touched by someone else. I need to hurt someone.
It took every fiber of my strength not to rip those constables apart limb from limb—and Damon's strength too. He had to physically hold me back as the entire gen pop watched her be dragged off. If I had my way, they'd all be with that pathetic excuse of a man called Samuel Hallman.
I know who I need to hurt, where I need to direct that anger.
Fucking Theo Ashwood.
He should have done more to protect her. The police held him back but he should have triedharder.
He should have destroyed them while he had the chance.
And now she's gone.
"If you're going tosort things out, I'd do it quickly. You have five more minutes before I leave this room and gut everyone who crosses my path."
Damon rolls his eyes, typing something on his laptop. "Sit down, Grey. I'm working on it. But I can't be babysitting you as well. Where do you want my focus to be?"
Begrudgingly, I jump up onto his desk, sitting on the edge. "I need answers. And I need them now."
I'm mad at him for holding me back. But as he said to me in the hall, there's no use spilling police blood because I'll be whisked away too, separated from everyone. And then there's no coming back from that.
"I know you do," he answers softly, a trait only reserved for those closest to him—at the briefest of times. "I'll get them."
"I'm serious, Deadman. Five minutes and I'm out of here. I don't care. I'll paint the hallways red and string Christmas lights up made of intestines."
He puts his laptop aside, standing up. Part of me hopes that he'll punch me, calm me down with the pain. But I know he won't. He's physically strong—enough to holdmeback—but his mind is stronger.
"Free time is over so we won't be let back out today," he says casually, holding a hand up as my face turns violent at the mere idea of getting no answers until tomorrow. "But I'm going to go speak to Arthur. I've checked the camera feeds. The police have just left and Hallman's body has been removed."
"Downstairs?" I ask.
"No—city morgue. The police need to do their autopsy to finalize their investigation so that his family can make funeral preparations. They will have released him from Lilydale custody."
I fold my arms. "She's not going down for this, Damon. It's not fair."
Damon's eyes narrow darkly. "Who cares if she does? Don't you care about what she did to you?"
Gritty camera footage rolls through my mind, the sounds of her breathy moans and gasps in the morgue, and I see red again at the reminder. "She's been through enough," I spit out, much to the surprise of Damon.
"You love her," he laughs incredulously, shaking his head. "I should have known."
"Idid," I correct him.
"No, you still love her," he points out, opening the door and peering out into the quiet hallway. "Don't mistake me for a fool, Grey. You're smarter than that."
I shake my head. "Love and forgiveness are two separate things."
Damon leans against the doorframe, looking at me with a bored expression. "I know you struggle with the line of forgiveness, but that subject aside, you still care for the girl."
"Avery," I say through clenched teeth. "Her name is Avery."
He raises an eyebrow. "Her name is as dead to me as Hallman is. Come on, you can come with me to see Arthur. I think putting the fear of the Devil in him would do some good. We all know he's going to have a field day dealing with this."
I take a final glimpse at Damon's walls covered in my blood, a sinister smirk tugging at my lips at the idea of unleashing some hell.
