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)
“What the fuck are you talking about? I’ve never attempted to take your life.”
I sputter, unable to believe what I’m hearing as I tilt my head back further and point out the dark bruising around my throat. “What the hell do you call this, Carver? Because it sure as fuck didn’t feel like an accident.”
“You had just murdered my father. You don’t know this fucking world, Winter, not like I do. I had to do it. I had no fucking choice.”
I scoff. “Just like you had no choice to send those twelve hitmen against me in the woods.”
His brows shoot straight up. “Are you fucking insane? Or don’t you remember that I was the fucking idiot who was standing at your back, making sure that your ass got out of there alive?”
“You can’t deny how convenient it was,” I spit.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re one of the eight, Carver. How am I supposed to believe that you didn’t drag me into the woods to set me up? You got me alone in there, fucked with my head, and then left me to fend for myself. You’ve been a shady fucker since the moment I met you. Who knows, maybe you’re playing the guys too. It was certainly a good show you put on, racing back for me and playing the hero to claim you saved my ass. It sure makes you look pretty fucking innocent.”
He shakes his head, his eyes blazing with anger as the insistent feeling in my gut demands that I trust him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I scoff, more pissed than anything. Hell, even if he didn’t have anything to do with the attack in the woods, I’m still not going to back down because I’m a stubborn ass and he deserves every bit of my fury. “I am so fucking over you assholes telling me I don’t know what I’m talking about, because from where I’m standing, I’m the only bitch who has the story straight.”
His jaw clenches and his eyes burn with anger. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d have been dead a long fucking time ago, Winter. I’ve had you alone, sleeping in my bed night after night. It would be as easy as waiting for you to fall asleep before snapping your fragile little neck. Don’t fool yourself.”
I step into him, cutting straight into his personal space just as he’d done to me, and force him back a step. “Then why the hell are you here?”
He silently watches me for a moment, thinking harder than any one person has the right to before his eyes tighten. “Tell me what my father said to you that was so bad you had to fucking kill him.”
I scoff, my disbelief forcing me back a few steps as I stare at the guy who could have meant the world to me. “Are you fucking kidding me? After everything we’ve been through, you don’t trust what I said in that fucking council chamber was true?”
Carver shakes his head. “It’s not,” he states as though it’s a cold, hard fact. “You’re fucking lying. I know you are. My father would never try to overthrow the whole council like that. Why the fuck would he? You’ve been gone for eighteen years. If that were his plan, he would have carried it out way before you got here.”
I scoff, unable to believe what I’m hearing. “I don’t give a shit what that man could have done before I got here. All I know is that he stood before me and demanded that I be his fucking yes man. But what would you know anyway?” My eyes harden and I step back into him. “When was the last time you spoke to him? You’re fucking best friends with Cruz and King, and not to mention, already a full member of the organization. Your father probably didn’t trust you for a fucking second. Especially when he realized that I knew exactly what happened to my parents. Who do you think he assumed told me, huh? Who would he have thought was the weakest link?”
I watch him, knowing damn well that I’m playing mind games, but it’s the truth. A man like Royston Carver would never trust his heir, especially one that usually has a good heart. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the reason he stayed away from Carver for so long. He was probably hoping for a son who would inherit his sick, twisted mind, and want to follow in his footsteps, but Carver is better than that, and despite how much it pains me to admit that—it’s true.
Carver lets out a sigh, his frustration increasing by the second and only reminding me how far apart we’re drifting. “You don’t think I know that? You don’t think that I spent years by my father’s side as a kid, fucking wishing that he could love me, wishing he would think that I was strong enough to one day take his seat at the table?” Carver bears down on me, the emotion pouring out of him in waves. “I was never enough, but I came to fucking terms with that. It’s no secret that he didn’t trust me, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t know the bastard. I made it my fucking business to know every last thing about him. Now, tell me what the fuck he said to you.”