“Earnest Brooks,” he tells me.
“Thank you, Earnest,” I say. “While your words certainly are kind, they are not reassuring considering that I spent my night racing through the dark woods of the King property while being chased by no less than ten hitmen. Mark my words, I will find the families responsible for last night’s attack, and I will deal with them accordingly.”
“Of course,” Earnest says. “We were appalled to hear of the attack taken against you last night and we stand with you. There were twelve bodies found on the property, all hired hitmen. However, we are lucky that we have such skilled young men who so willingly protected and served you as our leader. Rest assured, Miss Ravenwood, Dynasty will not let this go unpunished.”
Twelve? Shit. Though I can’t say that I’m not impressed. I guessed there were ten hitmen in the woods last night and that was a wild guess, but twelve? Wow. The boys certainly are skilled. They’re more than that, they’re incredible, and I was extremely lucky to have them by my side. I wouldn’t have stood a chance without them.
“Laying it on a bit thick there, Earnest,” comes a booming voice from across the table. I follow the insulting tone and meet Jacob’s father. “Who’s to say this had anything to do with Dynasty? She comes waltzing in here and instantly starts blaming the very families of our beloved organization. The girl has been a foster kid for the past eighteen years. We’ve all heard the stories of random attacks outside of clubs and bars. She has a history of violence. Who knows how many enemies she’s made over the years? Enemies who are now our own. Perhaps she brought this on herself and is now using her situation to tarnish our great name.”
Gasps come from the other side of the table. “How dare you speak ill of Miss Ravenwood like that.” King’s father demands.
Before some teenage back and forth bullshit can start, I stand and make my way around the table, keeping my eyes on Jacob’s father. “Your name?” I demand, spitting the words with irritation as I pass Carver, who somehow gives me the courage to stand taller, the pride in his eyes telling me that despite me stepping way out of line, that I’m heading down the right path.
“Preston Scardoni,” his name is all but growled as though offering it up to a nobody like me is beneath him.
“Well, well, Preston,” I say, stepping in right behind him, no doubt making him nervous as I make up the rules as I go, but fuck it, if I’m the leader, I shouldn’t have to be held to rules that are over eighteen years old. I’ll run this show exactly how I see fit. “You sound pretty fucking defensive here. Who’s to say that you’re not the culprit behind this attack? After all, your son was in attendance of my party last night. He could have easily given up my location.”
Preston scoffs as the occupants on the other side of the table seem to sit a little straighter. “You have no proof that my son was at that party. It was on King property; therefore, responsibility should fall on Tobias. He should be punished accordingly. Besides, you are our leader, and I would be a fool to step out against you.”
“That’s fucking bullshit and you know it,” I snap, accidentally letting the real Winter show as protests come from King’s father.
I make my way back to the head of the table and look at the people around me. “You know what I think?” I say. “I think that there are a select group of men who are threatened by an eighteen-year-old girl taking over leadership, which only goes to prove that their loyalties lie with themselves and not to their cause. I also think that the same group of men responsible for trying to kill me last night are the very men responsible for the murder of Andrew and London Ravenwood.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Carver’s father announces, cautiously looking to the other side of the table, his defense instantly putting him on my radar. “Your parents were killed in a house fire out of town, one you were lucky to survive yourself. Don’t be stupid, girl. Don’t try and dig up old scars. We all mourn your parents.”
“You think I’m stupid for challenging your lies, where I think you’re a fool for not realizing how easily I see through them.”
More gasps are heard around the table, some of outrage while others are filled with laughter. I get the impression that these men are rarely challenged and the thought sends a thrill shooting through me.
Carver’s father stands. “My lies?” he demands in an outrage. “I had nothing to do with the Ravenwood deaths. I will not be made a mockery. I am the head of the Carver family. I demand your respect.”