Damaged (Boys of Winter #2) - Sheridan Anne Page 0,13

around the table flinch. “Don’t act like you fucking know me, Dante. You don’t,” I spit at him. “The woman card is the whole reason we got into this fucked up mess in the first place. All of you sorry fuckers couldn’t get on board with the fact that my father’s firstborn was a female. That’s what started this shit and I’m going to fucking end it.”

Carver just rolls his eyes as men from all around the table scoff. No matter what side they’re sitting on, no man can handle being called out on their sexist bullshit. “We’re not here to discuss what happened eighteen years ago,” Carver insists. “We’re here to condemn you for killing my father, one of the heads of this grand organization.”

“Grand organization?” I laugh. “Oh, we’re putting on a show, are we? You want to get some brownie points for talking up Dynasty like you owe your life to it? Well, guess what? Dynasty is the whole fucking reason that I’ve never had a life. The men sitting around this table are the reason I lost my family, I lost my childhood, I lost everything I know. So don’t go pretending that this grand organization isn’t filled with corruption—a corruption that I can guarantee your father was behind. You fucking hate this world. You don’t want to be in that chair just as much as I don’t want this one.”

Murmurs flow through the room and Carver’s stare somehow darkens even more, and I freaking hope that my comment drops his ass in boiling hot water. “Watch your fucking mouth,” Carver warns, something sinister flashing in his deep, secretive eyes. “You’ve been here two fucking seconds. You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Tobias slams his hand down on the massive table, his glare shooting across to Carver as the room falls into silence. “Alright, that’s enough,” he demands. “That’s Andrew Ravenwood’s daughter you’re speaking to. Show some respect. We’re here to get to the bottom of yesterday’s incident, not throw insults across the table like a bunch of children. You are here to advocate for your late father, so do that, and for fuck’s sake, can the both of you do it with an ounce of respect for our dead?”

I raise a brow at Tobias in a proud, surprised shock. I didn’t know the dickhead had it in him. I’m impressed.

Carver leans back in his chair, his glare now not only focused on me, but on Tobias too, and for a brief moment, I sit here wondering where he finds the nerve to act like such a dick in front of his friends’ parents when I remember that these guys weren’t brought up to be like the normal kids at school. They were brought up to be men in power, they were raised to be leaders, to take charge, and do what needs to be done. In fact, I don’t even think they were raised, they were trained.

I take a leaf out of Carver’s book and lean back in my chair, glancing around the big table. “Okay,” I say. “Let’s start over. Where shall we begin?”

A man from the left-hand side of the table raises his chin. “How about the start?” he says with an irritated scoff, clearly trying to be funny and making a mockery of the whole situation.

I eye him for a second, surprised to find him younger than the others; perhaps thirty-five at the most. “Oh, we’ve got a class clown, huh? How exciting.”

His gaze narrows and I don’t bother asking his name. His stare makes it obvious he didn’t appreciate my comment—but fuck him. I didn’t appreciate his either. So instead, I turn to Earnest, knowing he’s bound to give me some guidance while hoping that my dismissal grinds against the clown’s nerves. “The dance?”

Earnest nods, a blank, hard expression on his face. “Yes, start there.”

I let out a breath and face the sixteen men around me while trying to keep a neutral expression as I pass by Carver’s hard stare. “As some of you would have seen last night, I was doing the traditional dance with Hunter King after the initiation when Royston Carver stepped in.”

“Get on with it,” the class clown interrupts, getting glares from all around the room. “Are you going to recap every fucking detail? We’re not blind, everyone here is aware that you were dancing with Royston. Get on with it.”

A grin pulls at the corner of my lips, and I stand, my eyes unintentionally