Damaged (Boys of Winter 2)

I roll my eyes. “Quit advocating for them,” I say with a groan. “Dynasty and the men who have held it hostage for the past eighteen years are all assholes. Tobias showed me what kind of power Dynasty truly holds, and the fact they haven’t intervened to get rid of people like Sam Delacourt completely baffles my head. If I’m running this fucking show, then I’ll be making some changes.”

“Woah,” Cruz says, walking around the table to drop down next to me. “I’m not advocating for anyone. I’m just saying how it is. If you want me to fucking go balls to the wall to take down Sam Delacourt then I’m all in. But you need to know that if you do this, Dynasty is going to have something to say about it.”

“There wasn’t an actual vote,” Carver says. “It was just implied, so technically she has every right to go after Sam. Dynasty can’t fucking stop her.”

“But they won’t help her either,” Grayson says.

I lean into the table, scanning my gaze over all the boys. “Who said we need Dynasty?”

King narrows his eyes. “Babe, I’d hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Dynasty is fucking everywhere. They’ll know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t give a shit if they know or not, all I’m saying is that we don’t need them to do this.”

Grayson leans back, watching me through a narrowed stare. “Do what exactly?”

A determined, wild grin stretches across my face as I turn to Carver. “We’re going to fuck up his whole operation and you’re going to put it in motion.”

Carver scoffs, shaking his head. “No offense,” he says, his words a contradiction to the tone of voice he’s using. “I’m still dealing with the last bullshit favor I did for you. I’m not about to go and put my neck on the line for another.”

King scoffs and shakes his head as I walk around the table and stand right behind Carver. A strange nervousness comes over me at being so close to him, but it’s a feeling that I’m slowly becoming familiar with. Hell, half the time it gives me a thrill while the other half is nothing but dread. It’s always a mystery when it comes to Dante Carver.

“Because of you, I spent four days in a cell. My throat was bruised, and I was forced to sleep alone. You owe it to me.”

Carver flies out of his seat, throwing himself to his feet and backing me into the wall. “I don’t owe you shit. I gave up my fucking family to save your ass after you murdered my father. Consider the debt already paid, not that there was ever a debt to be paid.”

Grayson rushes between us, pushing Carver away from me, but deep down, he and I both know that I like it when he’s rough like this. This dominating, angry version of himself is scary as hell, but damn it, it speaks right to the devil that lives inside me. He’s dangerous and I love it.

I push back against Grayson’s hold and seeing that I can handle Carver, he falls back. “Then don’t do it for me,” I tell him, more than ready to call his ass out. “Do it for the girls who are getting raped day in and day out, do it for the parents whose children are getting taken off the street, but most of all, do it for yourself because fuck knows that if you don’t, you’re going to live with the regret of letting me down for the rest of your life, and it’s going to eat at you every fucking day.”

Carver scoffs as the boys watch us closely, desperate to hear what he has to say. “You really think you have so much hold over me?”

I laugh and while the sound might wrap right around a few of the guys in this room, all it does to Carver is grind on his nerves. I move into him, rolling my tongue over my bottom lip and watching how he instantly becomes captivated. “I don’t think, Carver. I know. So, what’s it going to be? Are you going to step up for all the girls that have been victim to Sam’s horrors, or are you going to let them down too?”

His jaw clenches and he holds my stare for a moment too long before letting out a defeated sigh. He steps back from me before turning and walking away. Silence filters through the room as we all listen to Carver as he walks to the living room.

“Sam,” he demands, his tone darker and harsher than anything I’ve ever heard. Fuck, it’s a tone that not even I would fuck with. It sends chills sweeping through my body, and I realize that all this time, whenever Carver comes at me, whenever I think he’s giving his all, he’s been holding back, every fucking time. “You sold me a fucking brat. What kind of business are you running?”