Damaged (Boys of Winter 2)

Ida waves her hand dismissively toward the door. “Get rid of her. She’s a traitor to her own people. Royston will not die in vain. She will be punished.”

Two men move into my sides as I frantically search for a way out. King’s arm tightens around my waist, more than ready to fight his way out of this. “Hunter,” Tobias snaps. “Release her now.”

“No,” he demands, fixing his father with a hard stare and proving that my well-being comes before these bullshit old policies and traditions of a corrupted organization. “I’ll keep her at my place. She’s not going down to the cells.”

“She has no choice,” Tobias hisses, pissed off with his son’s lack of respect in front of the other heads. “Release. Her. Now.”

Having the patience of a doorknob, two others move in and tackle King away from me, leaving me open for the taking. I try to fight them off, but every single one of them are professionally trained, and their skills up against the bullshit, weak as fuck punches I taught myself are absolutely nothing.

Two men grab my arms and I desperately try to pull free, but their grip is too tight. They pull me toward the door, my feet dragging along the marble tiles. I look back at the crowded bodies, taking in the boys who desperately try to get free, each of their concerned stares on mine, filled with regret, devastation, and defeat.

A lump forms in my throat as I turn my desperate stare on Carver to see nothing but pure rage in his eyes. “You said I could trust you,” I cry, his betrayal hitting me harder than anything I’ve ever felt in my life. “You were supposed to have my back.”

Something flashes in his eyes, but it’s gone before I get the chance to figure it out, and before I know it, the massive doors of the ballroom open and I’m dragged back through them, feeling my freedom slipping away.

Then just like that, the big doors slam closed with a loud BANG, blocking me off from the rest of the world.

CHAPTER 2

The big iron key slips into the lock of the cell, and as the door slides open, the metallic sound of bars scraping sends me straight back to that tiny, damp cell of Sam’s.

How the hell did I get back here?

The hands at my arm grip me tighter as I fear what will come of this. How could Carver do this to me? Out of all the guys, he’s the one who understands me the most. He’s the one I would run to when the nightmares would come back to haunt me, yet he’s the one who condemned me to this bullshit.

Fuck him. I’ll never forgive him for this.

I’m dragged forward, and I do everything in my power to avoid being thrown into the open cell, but my attempts against these strange men are useless. It’s like throwing around a ragdoll. My strength is laughable against theirs.

A hand slams into my back and I’m pushed roughly through the cell door. I fall forward, my body crashing down to the hard concrete ground with a loud thud, a pained grunt tearing from between my lips. My elbows scrape against the concrete and instantly sting as my mom’s silk gown is torn.

Wicked laughter echoes through the cells, and as I go to push up onto my hands and knees, the door slams shut with a deafening BANG. The men walk out and all that’s left is a dead silence that seems to go on forever.

I stare around the dimly lit cell, my breath coming in short, sharp pants as my eyes flick around the shadows. This world has destroyed me. I used to be so strong, but the second I came to Ravenwood Heights, everything changed. Some good and some were so fucking bad that no one should ever have to live through it.

I pull myself to my feet and look over my elbows to find them scratched up and bloodied, but it’s nothing compared to the raspy soreness pulsing through my throat from the way Carver strangled it. Sure, I didn’t think before pulling that knife on Carver’s father, but I sure as hell didn’t get the impression that he gave a shit. I thought he hated the guy. I thought he was on my side.

My gaze drops over my ruined dress and I quickly realize that it’s not just my blood covering it, but Carver’s father’s from when his furious son dropped me on the ground. Disgust sinks heavily into my stomach and I reach around myself, desperately feeling for the flimsy zipper.

I drag it down my body and allow the ruined material to fall off my shoulders, leaving me in nothing but a black strapless bra and a pair of panties, that read ‘It’s not going to lick itself’ across the front. I hate that the last time I was in a cell, I was also in nothing but underwear, but right now, it beats sitting in someone else’s blood.