Ava cuts her off before the doc can even finish.
“No, I’m not staying. I’m not going to hurt myself, I promise. I didn’t spend a year trying to survive just to check out now I’m finally free.”
“Miss King, I really think you need professional help,” she continues, but Ava’s not having any of it.
“No. I’ll talk to someone if and when I’m ready. You don't get to decide that. I’m not a danger to myself or others, but if I stay here, he’ll come for me.”
“Over my dead body,” I growl, planning on sticking to Ava like white on rice.
“I’m sorry, I truly am, but you’re not in the right frame of mind to be making those kinds of decisions,” the doc continues, a hint of her superiority poking through her professional veneer along with something else, something out of place.
Hunger. I’m not talking about for food. She’s probably mentally writing her expose-all book. Not a fucking chance, lady.
“She’s coming home with us. Nothing you say or do will change that, so I’d quit now if I were you,” Lucky adds.
She huffs before turning on her heel and stomping out of the room.
“What the fuck is wrong with everyone in this place?” When I was a kid, I remember thinking that everyone had been really friendly to me, but sifting through my memories, I realize they might have been sweet to a kid, but they were judgmental assholes to my dad.
“I think the sooner we get out of this place, the better. We’ll wait for Saint to get here and take it from there, see what he wants to do.”
“And what about me? I’m sorry, but you three are deciding what I should do with my life as if I’m nothing more than a job."
“It’s not that, Ava. Not even close. It's just making me really fucking antsy, knowing that asshole is still out there,” I admit.
She doesn’t say anything to that, but as I stare at her, something occurs to me. She doesn’t appear to be as frightened as I thought she would be. No, that's not strictly true. She is scared—it's in the way she moves and the panic she shows whenever she thinks one of us might leave. I guess I assumed she’d be rocking in a corner somewhere, and yet, even after everything she’s been through, there’s an air of defiance about her. She might look fragile now, but this slip of a woman has a core of steel inside her.
“I’m not ready to substitute one cage for another. I’ll go insane. I’m not saying I should be able to go off on my own. I’m not stupid. I know the dangers more than anyone. But being trapped within the gates of Carnage will kill me.” She folds her hands in her lap, looking down at them—maybe so she doesn’t have to face us.
The thing is, I get where she’s coming from. I do, but I doubt there’s any way Saint will let Ava out of his sight and there’s no chance of him leaving Carnage behind now he has Reign, his old lady and the only other person to survive Garrett, to think about.
I lift the forgotten bag of food from the end of the bed and hand it to her. “It’s probably cold, but I’m still willing to wager it's a hundred times better than anything they have here. Eat. We can talk about everything else afterward.” I smile, trying to keep the conversation light.
She snatches the bag from my hand and reaches inside, pulling out the burger and unwrapping it quickly before taking a large bite.
The moan she makes has my dick hardening once more, reminding me of what a sick bastard I am, but one quick look at Lucky and Rebel tells me I’m not alone.
“I know you’re just trying to distract me with food, but I can’t even be mad about it. This is the best burger I’ve had in forever,” she mutters around a mouthful, making me snort.
We all jump when the door slams open, smacking against the wall hard enough to leave a dent in the plaster.
Ava squeaks as the guys and I all move to take a defensive stand in front of her. I relax when I see it's a harried-looking Saint, who scowls at us when he can’t see Ava.
“Where the fuck is my sister?” he roars.
I turn when I hear Ava whimper, her food forgotten now, discarded on the gray hospital issued bed cover as she draws her knees to her chest.
Lucky growls and moves to wrap his arms around her, and I watch in wonder as she grips him tightly.
I storm toward Saint, who is standing in the doorway and breathing heavily.
“Calm the fuck down right now,” I warn, making him glare at me.
“That’s my fucking sister. All of you fucking move out of my way,” he snaps.
“No. We promised her we’d stay, and with all due respect, I wouldn’t leave her with you right now even if we didn’t make any promises because you're scaring her, man,” I add on quietly.
He freezes with a look of stark pain on his face before he disappears into the hallway for a moment.
I follow him and watch from the doorway as he systematically destroys the waiting room, picking up chairs and throwing them, and punching the wall until the skin on his knuckles splits, leaving blood smears on the faded yellow paint.
Screaming from other people in the waiting area draws my attention, but I don’t move from my spot. I made Ava a promise. At the moment, given the current state he's in, I’m not letting Saint anywhere near her.
“Bates is on his way up. Saint took off without them,” Rebel says from behind me.
I look over and see him slide his cell back into his pocket, his face grim.
Ava is still bundled up in Lucky’s arms, her head peeking around his shoulder, watching me.
“I know I should help—” I offer, but Rebel shakes his head.
“Ava is our priority, and honestly, she should be fucking his too. I get he’s pissed, I really do, but the second he walked through those doors, he should have locked his shit down. This isn’t about him, it's about Ava. Before he turned up, she was coming out of her shell and now look at her,” he mutters.
We both watch her cling to Lucky before the ding of the elevator has us turning back to the chaos in the waiting room.
The elevator door slides open, revealing two security guards and Bates towering over them from behind.
Bates takes in the scene without a word, eyes scanning over the nurses huddled behind their station and the handful of other people in the waiting room all standing in the corner as far from Saint as they can get.
His eyes swing to the guards approaching Saint, and with a sigh, I watch as he ambles over like he doesn’t have a care in the fucking world.
When one of the guards tries to restrain Saint, he swings around, ready to punch him. Bates moves faster, throwing his own punch, which collides with Saint’s temple.
Saint crumples, but Bates catches the heavy fucker, hoists him up over his shoulder, and strolls back to the elevator, whistling loudly as he goes.
“That man is not normal,” Rebel mutters, making me snort.
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”
Bates looks up, his eyes staring straight at me as if he knows we’re talking about him, and then he grins like the fucking nut job he is as the doors to the elevator slide shut.
Now that the chaos has passed, everyone in the waiting area turns to look at me in question.
I just shrug and close the door, ignoring Rebel's laugh. There is no way I can explain Bates. I’m not going to even try.