Damaged (Boys of Winter #2) - Sheridan Anne Page 0,6
of sunshine against a black, stormy sky. The rest of the guys, even me, all see the negatives, we see the world as a horrible, dark place, and without Cruz keeping our chins raised to the sky, we’d all be buying a one-way ticket to hell.
Not wanting to crush his spirit, I simply nod and drop my head into my hand, focusing on the softness of Cruz’s thumb as it travels back and forth over my other hand. “What’s going to happen?” I ask him. “You know, assuming they’re not going to vote that I be sentenced to death for killing an asshole.”
Cruz shakes his head. “That’s not going to happen,” he tells me, his tone soft and soothing. “They can’t ignore that you’re Elodie Ravenwood. You’re our natural-born leader, and there are eight families who are going to take your side.”
“But there are also eight families who won’t.”
“Not necessarily,” he says.
My brows furrow as I raise my head from my hand and look him in the eye. “What do you mean?” I ask, studying every little line of his face.
Cruz’s lips pull into a tight line as he shakes his head, deep in thought. “I don’t want you getting your hopes up or anything like that, but Carver … I don’t know. He wouldn’t just side with his family like that. I think it was all for show.”
“No,” I tell him. “I know you want to see the best in everyone, but I felt his hand on my throat. I couldn’t fucking breathe, Cruz. That’s not a man who was putting on a show. He wanted to kill me, and he would have if Grayson didn’t beat the shit out of him.”
“That’s not … no. Carver wouldn’t have done it. He’s … he was just angry.”
I squeeze his hand, staring into his eyes as I lower my voice to a soft whisper. “He was going to kill me, Cruz. I saw it in his eyes. He wanted to end me just like I ended his father.”
Cruz releases me and drops back against the wall, watching me closely as he rests his hands over his knees, his head tilted back against the hard concrete. “They’ll put you on trial,” he explains, moving on from the topic of his best friend wanting to possibly murder his part-time fuck buddy. “It’ll be hard. The eight families who stand against you will make it nearly impossible for you to get a word in. They’ll drill you, examine every little word you say, and try to turn it back on you until you’re found guilty.”
“And the other eight families?”
“They’ll advocate for you. To them, you’re innocent until proven guilty.”
“They all watched me kill him. I am guilty.”
“Yes, but they will argue that he had it coming. You said so yourself. He boasted about killing your parents and if that’s true, which we all already assumed, then it was the rightful punishment, just carried out in the wrong way.”
My brows furrow. “How do you mean?”
“Just like in the real world, murder is a crime that cannot go unpunished, and until now, the death of your parents was always considered a tragic accident—it still is. Some believed it was murder, others believed the accidental fire story, so no punishments were handed out. Taking the life of our leader … that’s unheard of. It’s the worst crime anyone in this world could commit, and once the truth got out, Royston Carver would have been sentenced to death—an eye for an eye as you like to say.”
“So, I’m in the clear?”
“Not exactly,” he tells me. “The only evidence you have to prove he was guilty is now the words of a dead man. No one heard what he said to you. There’s no recording or proof that he did it, just your word, and considering the position you’re now in …”
“I’m fucked.”
“Exactly.”
My head drops and I study the backs of my hands far too closely. “So, what’s going to happen after I’ve said my piece?”
“Same as everything else,” he says, giving me another tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “They’ll put it to a vote and you better hope that one of those eight families are feeling lenient and give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Then it’ll be an even split and you’ll be thrown back in here until there’s a final decision.”
Dread sinks heavily into my gut. “I’m screwed,” I murmur into the quiet cell. “They’ll never agree.”