Damaged (Boys of Winter #2) - Sheridan Anne Page 0,85
from Grayson, the fear of the dark, the faceless monsters, and the hands touching my body.
I swing the bat with everything that I’ve got, hitting his arm, breaking his wrist, fracturing his shin.
I do it for the girls that he’s hurt, the girls that cry for their mothers every single night, the families that think their sweet little babies are gone.
My breath comes in sharp, ragged gasps, panting for oxygen, but I keep pushing myself, hitting harder and harder and not relenting, not daring to give up because every one of those names in that ledger deserves this.
Sam cries out in agony with every hit of the bat, and every time he does, I push myself harder. I hit harder. I pick up my pace. I give it my all knowing that I’ll never get this chance again. Once he’s gone, I’ll have to live with what I’ve done, and if I don’t make him suffer and beg for death, then I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.
Minutes pass when exhaustion creeps up on me and my hands fall to my knees as the metal bat clatters to the ground. I physically can’t keep going, and as I take a moment to evaluate the mess of a man that hangs before me, I know that I gave it my all.
Carver steps in behind me and I feel his body pressing against mine. I straighten myself up, sticking my back right against his solid chest. Without saying a word, his hand curls around mine, and before I know it, a gun rests comfortably between my fingers.
He raises my hand until the gun is pointed directly at Sam and only then does he allow his own hand to fall away, letting me take Sam’s final punishment into my own control.
I let out a shaky breath. After everything we went through today, I still didn’t get a chance to shoot a gun, so this is it. I keep one thing in my head, the one warning the boys had given me—don’t fucking miss.
Keeping a strong arm, my hips squared, and my chin raised with confidence and pride, I squeeze the trigger and let the bullet fly.
CHAPTER 21
The bullet launches straight through Sam’s skull, and I watch as his body goes limp, sending him straight to hell. The only sound I hear is the sound of my pulse thumping rapidly in my ear.
My heart races but as my arm lowers and the back wall of the small concrete room is splattered with blood, I feel completely elated. Every single one of my demons are released, every monster gone, every ache and pain that resides within vanishes into thin air, and while I’ll always be haunted by the life that I’ve lived, I’ll never be scared of what can’t hurt me again. Never fear the dark, shadowed corners, never need to long for Carver’s arms to keep the monsters at bay, never need to fear the faceless men.
I’m finally free.
Carver steps in behind me and just as silently as he had given me the gun, he takes it away, and as he walks back to the long workbench that holds his many tools, I find myself watching him, needing my gaze to be anywhere but on Sam’s dead body.
Carver takes a black rag and wipes down the gun, removing my fingerprints even though nobody will ever find this secret room down here. He places it in a drawer before turning around and meeting my stare.
He watches me for a moment, and I wonder what the hell he’s seeing. Do I seem haunted? Terrified? Or can he see how my soul is finally coming back to me and that I feel like a brand-new person ready to take on the world? Ready to take on Dynasty?
I struggle to catch my breath but with his eyes on mine, I feel as though I could run a marathon. He doesn’t take his stare off me, and as the seconds tick by, the tension in the dark room grows. Need shines in his eyes, filled with desire, and wonder. He doesn’t judge me for what he just witnessed, doesn’t frown upon me or think that I’m less of a woman. He doesn’t push me away with horror. Instead, he watches me as though I’m the strongest woman he’s ever met; the bravest, fiercest, most aggressively perfect woman, and it scares the shit out of me.
His chest rises and falls with quick rapid movements and the longer I