Damaged (Boys of Winter 2)

“Hurry along,” Tobias says. “It is not wise to keep the heads of Dynasty waiting.”

Grayson flinches at his tone and shoots a wicked glare sailing up to his friend’s father. “She’s the fucking leader of Dynasty. If she wants to keep those assholes waiting, then she has every right.”

Tobias clenches his jaw. “Where do you get off addressing me like that?”

“Father, don’t,” King warns. “Gray is right. Winter is our leader, and if she’s not ready to walk in there, then you have no place forcing her to. She will make them wait as long as she needs.”

Tobias glares at the two boys. “Are you so blinded by her body and what she can offer you that you’ve forgotten exactly what it is that got her in this mess in the first place?”

“Innocent until proven guilty,” Grayson reminds him with a hard growl. “But it seems that you’ve already made up your mind.”

King’s eyes narrow on his father as Grayson discreetly steps between us, somehow becoming my protector over the last twelve hours. “I have done no such thing,” Tobias insists, his tone strong and unnerved. “Do I need to remind you of the nightmares your little sister had last night after watching a woman she idolized murder a man? I know exactly where my loyalties lie, but that does not mean that I cannot be furious with her reckless actions and careless behavior. I have known Royston for fifty-odd years. We grew up together, we learned to fight together, and then we learned how to rule this great organization in Andrew Ravenwood’s wake. While he may have held different values and beliefs, he was still a friend, and I am anxious to get young Elodie into the council chambers and hear exactly what she has to say for herself. Only then, once I have heard her out, will I decide if she deserves my continued loyalty.”

The boys don’t move, holding their ground for a few long, drawn-out moments before King finally nods and gives his father the benefit of the doubt. He releases my shoulder and raises his chin to his father. “I want to come in.”

Tobias shakes his head. “Absolutely not,” he says. “It’s a closed trial. You know the rules.”

King sighs, giving up and making it clear that he had absolutely no shot at getting inside that room in the first place, but I appreciate him trying anyway.

I step around the boys, sliding my hand down King’s arm and squeezing his hand, hating the concern that flashes in his eyes. “I’ll be fine,” I tell him. “Carver’s father said plenty of incriminating things last night. They’ll see that I was right to finish him.”

“Let’s hope they see it that way.”

Grayson nods in agreement before taking my shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze, making something flutter deep inside my stomach. He meets my eyes, and before I know it, he turns and continues down the hallway.

“We’ll be here waiting,” King says, before turning and following Grayson, leaving me alone in the long hallway with his disapproving father.

“Right, let’s get this over with.”

I nod, and just like that, we pick up our pace and make our way down the long corridor until we’re stopping outside the council chamber doors. “Are you ready for this?” he asks, deciding to take pity on me. “They’re going to be ruthless and will have absolutely no regard for your feelings.”

I clench my jaw. “I can handle it.”

He gives a firm nod, not an ounce of emotion over his face. “I know you can,” and just like that, he opens the door and ushers me inside.

I take a deep breath, the nerves instantly settling inside my stomach. My gaze quickly flicks around the room, and even though it was only yesterday morning that I was in here, it now feels like a lifetime ago.

I take a hesitant step inside before remembering who the fuck I am and raising my chin. The boys would be seriously pissed if they caught me walking in here already looking like I’d lost. I’ve suffered through too much to give in like that. No, I’m going to walk in here with my head held high, put these old fuckers in their place, and make sure I can walk straight back out of here with my freedom intact—well, as much freedom as being Andrew Ravenwood’s long lost daughter allows.

I make my way around the right-hand side of the table with Tobias following behind me until he reaches his spot and takes his seat. I continue, knowing I can mostly trust this side and raise my gaze at the other eight men who take up the seats across the table.

Their glares all hit me like a freight train, but I keep my composure, only faltering a step when I find Carver’s dark, stormy eyes staring back at me.