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)
There are ambulances all around. The fire department is shoving their way past us as women in stained ball gowns cry on the floor. Others search the arms of the boys, desperately seeking out their lost children, while people lay on the ground, the smoke too much for their lungs to handle.
Tobias meets us just as we step out onto the road. Relief cuts across his face seeing both his son and daughter alive, but when he sees the state she’s in, he runs with King to the back of the ambulance and instantly gets in with her. King doubles back with the rest of the guys, anxious to get back in there and save as many people as possible.
I rip off my heels and turn back with them, starting to race back into the tunnel when Grayson shoves a hard hand against my chest. “No,” he growls, the authority loud and clear in his tone. “Get back there and address your people. Let us do this. You’re not going back in there.”
“But—”
“NO,” he roars. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.”
I pull back, never having seen him so angry with me, but he’s right. There are two thousand people out here, all scared, all confused, lost, and grieving. They’re my responsibility. They’re mine to deal with.
I swallow hard and nod, and without missing a beat, Grayson turns back around and shoots down the tunnel with the rest of the fire department.
I look back at the chaos on the road, and just as I go to find the heads of Dynasty to put together a plan, Ember comes crashing into me, her face burying into the curve of my neck as she lets out a breath of relief. “Holy shit, Winter. I thought you were dead.”
CHAPTER 35
“What the fuck was that?” I roar through my living room as fifteen heads of Dynasty, Cruz, King, and Grayson stare back at me. They all look exhausted. We only just got back from the night from hell ten minutes ago, and within seconds, the heads of Dynasty were barging down my door, ready to get to the bottom of it.
One of these men is guilty, and I want to know who. I need to know.
Any normal group would have waited until morning. Everyone would have gone home with their families, showered, and thought on their night, but not Dynasty. These fuckers are all about the here and now, and for once, I actually agree with them.
The guys look like shit. Carver’s suit is practically non-existent. His jacket was burned to a crisp and his shirt ended up in pieces, yet for some stupid reason, he still wears it. His pants somehow survived though.
Grayson came out the best. Though, he might just look the best because his suit was black, whereas Cruz and King’s grey suits look like an absolute mess. There’s no salvaging that shit. Cruz is missing his jacket, only two buttons remain on his dress shirt, giving me a good peek at the masterpiece beneath, and his hair is as unruly as can be.
King on the other hand just looks like shit. His pants are torn, there’s black smudges of ash and soot all over his face, half of his dress shirt is gone, and his jacket lays on the floor at my feet after being hung over my shoulders for a good portion of the night.
The majority of the men in this room look just as bad, except for the few who got their priorities wrong. Though maybe that was a blessing because now I know to watch them even closer than before.
It’s well past two in the morning and my beautiful dress is now barely holding on. What was once full and dazzling is now torn to shreds and burned, just like what remains of Dynasty.
A wave of violent anger burns through me and I pace frantically, teetering on the edge of losing control. If Cruz weren’t here keeping me grounded, I’d be off the fucking rails by now. “I know one of you motherfuckers has something to do with this, and I swear to God you’ll pay. It’s one thing going after me, but there were children in there. Children. Caitlin King just spent three hours in surgery. Both her leg and hand are being held together by pins.”
“How dare you assume we had something to do with this,” Michael Harding demands, shooting to his feet and spilling his bourbon all over my parents’ expensive tiles, but what else should I have expected for a shallow asshole like him? He was basically Royston Carver’s best friend. I wouldn’t be surprised if he used to wipe Roy’s ass for him too. “Where’s Scardoni? He’s been gone for days. If anyone did this, it was that shady bastard.”
“Oh, is that how things are going to go now?” Grayson’s father demands, slamming his empty glass down on the coffee table and leaning forward to refill it. “We’re just shooting blame at one another without any rhyme or reason? If that’s the case, I think you did it. You’ve been gunning to get rid of the Ravenwood line for years.”