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

and the remaining fifteen heads of Dynasty. Sixteen considering that Carver just inherited his father’s seat at the table.

Once the people are gone and the doors are closed behind them, Mrs. Carver’s sobs come to an abrupt, appalling stop and she turns her glare on me. “You will pay for this, mark my words, girl,” she spits, making it clear that her sobs were just for show. “You took from me and I will not stop until I find revenge.”

Tobias raises his chin. “Remember your place, Ida. That’s Elodie Ravenwood you’re talking to, our leader.”

“She is not my leader,” Ida growls. “She’s a murderer. She should be locked up and fed to the wolves for all I care. She’s white trash and not worthy of being leader of such an organization.”

“Watch your mouth,” Earnest says, stepping into her side as my fingers curl into a fist and I long for my brass knuckles, desperately wishing that I could end this shit the one way I know how.

I raise my chin and take a step toward Ida as King’s hand tightens on my elbow, silently telling me to back off. “Your husband just stood before me and told me all about the sick way he murdered my parents as they slept in their bed, relished in the way my mother screamed. He told me how he tried to suffocate me and then boasted about how he set fire to my home. That same man stood before me not twelve hours ago and declared his loyalty and stated that I will have his support in my search for my parents’ killers. That is the man you’re defending.”

“That man was my husband of twenty-five years.”

“Which makes me wonder just how much you had to do with this.”

“Excuse me?” Ida demands, sucking in an appalled breath as Carver creeps in closer, his fingers tightening on his mother’s arm.

I scoff at her little show, ignoring the way Carver seems to loom over me. “You were by his side every day for twenty-five years. So, you either knew exactly what was going on and are an accessory to his crimes, or you’re just plain stupid. Which is it? Because judging by the little show that you’ve been putting on for the guests tonight, I’m going to go ahead and assume that you’re a smart woman.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she snaps, her eyes briefly flashing toward Tobias King.

“Oh, but you do,” I tell her, drawing her attention back to me. “You knew exactly what his plans were for Dynasty, just as I assume your son did too.”

Carver’s stare hardens as Cruz, King, and Grayson look at him in confusion. “What is she talking about?” Grayson demands, his tone lowering in suspicion. “What was your father planning?”

“This has nothing to do with me,” Carver growls, his anger at being questioned by his best friend as thick as the blood staining the dance floor. “I’ve seen my father once in the last six months.”

“It’s nothing,” Ida cries. “My husband was dedicated to our cause. He was an upstanding member of our organization and as loyal as every other head of Dynasty. He did not deserve this. This … this … trash should be locked up. This was just some ridiculous stunt after her humiliation during this morning’s meeting. You all saw how she targeted my poor husband. I demand an investigation.”

“I agree,” Carver says, raising his chin. “Lock her up. She’s dangerous. Who knows who else she might go after.”

“Take her to the cells,” comes a voice to my left. I glance across to find Preston Scardoni with a scowl stretched across his face, his eyes narrowed on me in distaste. “After insinuating that I had something to do with the attack on the King property, it’s clear that she’s not fit for leadership. She’s on a rampage, intent on destroying what our fathers built, and I refuse to be her next victim.”

Cruz steps into my side and grips my other arm as King pulls me back into his chest. “You’re not taking her anywhere,” Cruz says, leveling Carver with a ferocious stare. “Hasn’t she already suffered enough? You saw the fucking cell Sam Delacourt had her in, and now you’re just going to throw her in another? Fuck you, man. Doesn’t she mean anything to you?”

“Cruz,” an older man reprimands from behind us, making me wonder if that’s his father, but I refuse to take my stare off Carver’s for even a second to