Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 131926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
I scream and scream, tears of anger springing to my eyes until my throat is raw and aching.
How did this even happen? One second I was putting on a show for the sixteen families of Dynasty, doing their bullshit cult initiation, and the next, there was a dead man at my feet with his blood pooling around my heels and a satisfied smirk stretching across my face.
Who the fuck am I?
“WINTER. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?”
My head whips up to find Grayson, King, and Cruz standing on the opposite side of my cell, staring in at me like I’m some kind of sideshow with their faces pressed right up against the metal bars. My breath comes in hard, sharp pants as I look at the three of them, wide-eyed and concerned.
I drop the pillow back to the bed and go crashing down to the hard concrete beneath me, completely out of breath. I didn’t realize that screaming into a pillow was such a workout.
I lean back onto my hands and look up at the three guys in defeat. “You have to get me out of here,” I beg, my throat raw as my voice comes out with a broken rasp.
“We’re working on it,” Grayson promises me, the depth of the concern in his eyes really putting me off. Since when did he care so much? He’s had my back since the second Carver’s hand found my throat.
“I just … I … I can’t be in here anymore. I have to get out of here and … fuck. I have to hit something. I don’t know. I can’t take it anymore.”
“You’re okay,” Cruz murmurs, desperately trying to calm me down. “Just breathe. You’re getting yourself all worked up. I know you’re angry with the system but hurting yourself like this isn’t going to help.”
“The system?” I demand, throwing myself to my feet and instantly beginning to pace. “I’m not angry with the system. I’m fucking angry with Carver.”
“Carver?” King grunts. “The fuck are you talking about?”
I stop pacing and walk straight up to the metal bars, their closeness somehow making it a little easier to breathe. I meet each of their hardening stares, and the second I get close enough, Cruz reaches through the bar and captures my hand in his, holding it tight and refusing to let me yank it free in his need to give me all his comfort and support.
I take three slow breaths, knowing that if I continue like this, I won’t be able to talk for days and that will really fuck up my plans to give Carver a piece of my mind.
I’d give anything for my brass knuckles right now. I’d love to introduce them to Carver’s face, but a throat punch and a few knees to the junk will have to suffice.
“Winter,” Grayson prompts, his voice low and demanding. “What the fuck did Carver do?”
I meet his heavy stare, our eyes connecting with an intense force that keeps me captivated. “It was going alright. I thought I was about to get out of there, and just before they were going to make their vote, Carver asked ‘did you, or did you not suggest taking out the head of each of the eight families that sit to your left, to rid Dynasty of its corruption and replace them with their sons or daughters?’ ” I say, mimicking Carver’s stupid deep voice.
“FUCK,” King grunts, pulling himself away from the bars and instantly pacing behind the two boys. He pauses for a beat to look back at me. “You would have looked guilty as shit,” he spits as Grayson seems to shake with anger and Cruz’s hand tightens in mine to the point of pain, but fuck me, it’s a pain that I welcome. “That was just a bullshit comment, one we’ve all made multiple times over the past few years.”
“Tell me you’re fucking lying,” Grayson demands. “Carver wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t use something like that against you. That’s not how he handles shit.”
“Just like he would never curl his fingers around my throat and squeeze until I couldn’t breathe? Yeah, he’s a real fucking saint. Open your eyes, Grayson, Carver isn’t the guy you thought he was. He’s just like his father. He dropped a fucking bomb over me and hung around to watch it explode.”
“Don’t say that,” Cruz murmurs, his heart heavy on his sleeve. “He’s just … he’s going through some things. He had no choice. He just watched you kill his father and now he has to advocate for his revenge hungry family. You know that.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “This wasn’t just advocating for his family, this was more. He fucking dumped me in a pile of shit and made sure that I’d never get out. He’s the whole fucking reason I’m in here right now. I should have walked free after that trial, but he fucking made sure that I was to suffer.”