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"You remember how to get to the morgue, correct?"
Chapter 20
Grey
There he is.
Immediately, I'm ready to kill him. Before my feet have even taken three steps, I've already planned at least seven different ways to permanently delete him.
Shame there's an audience though.
I push past other patients as I cross the hall, eyes locked in on my target. He doesn't even glance up as I approach, though I notice his body tensing up. He can sense me, but he's not at all worried or fearful. And that fucking pisses me off.
"Ashwood," I growl, resting my hands on the table across from him.
Theo fucking Ashwood finally glances up, eyes narrowing on me. He barely moves at all, just peering up at me with his head tilted down.
"What?" he snaps back.
I twitch, the weight of the razor blade in my pocket heavy as I resist the urge to whip it out and give him a matching scar to my own neck.
"We need to talk," I say through clenched teeth.
People around us look over, doing their best to hide their curiosity but it's so obvious. A few people quickly move away, while others nudge their companions and point to us.
They think shit is about to go down.
Even the guards against the wall have taken notice, hands on their tasers and guns. The thought makes me laugh. I know Theo's reputation precedes him—I've witnessed his encounters before when people have tried to approach him. He's dangerous, unpredictable. But guess what?
So the fuck am I.
I'm worse, actually. Because I have something to lose, something I just got back.
And I have to be amicable with this fucker right here.
"I'm not the talking type," Ashwood responds sarcastically. "Perhaps find another person to converse with."
I straighten up, laughing. There's a clear radius around us of people who immediately scatter or panic.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a guard taking a step toward us, ready to intervene. I glare at him with a smirk, not familiar with him.
He doesn't know better yet. Obviously a new hire who thinks he has a cock made of gold. But even gold melts when met with fire.
I shake my head at him, watching as another guard rushes over to whisper something in his ear. He looks bewildered for a second, stilling.
"Listen here, asshole," I say, returning my attention to Ashwood. "This is about Avery."
Even the mere mention of her name rocks me. It's like a poetic tsunami—large waves drowning me but bringing such peace. Apparently, it has the same effect on Ashwood, because he looks up properly, his sneer dropping.
"Is she okay?" he asks sincerely.
I hate that he cares. At the same time, it also buys him a few more seconds of his precious life.
"She's fine," I tell him casually, looking at my black nails. "More than fine last night, actually."
Ashwood leans back from the table, folding his arms. "Is this your poor attempt at making me jealous?"
"Not at all," I taunt. "Just reiterating that she's alive and well."
