Page 56 of Dead of Wynter

“A breach?” I ask incredulously.

“Yes. The photos were in my office at Frost Industries because I thought no one would be dumb enough to break into a building for a company that literally designs half the world’s security systems.”

“Why the fuck didn’t I know about this?” I growl.

“Because I didn’t want you to,” Storm snaps. “You forget who runs the show, brother.”

My body stills as blinding red crosses my vision. Anger pumps through my veins, and the only thing holding me back is the woman I love in my arms. Her softness soothes me just the same as it always has, ever since the first time she patched me up after my uncle hurt me.

FOURTEEN YEARS AGO

Red clouds my vision, but not because I’m angry. Blood drips into my eyes as I stagger up the drive of the Saint James estate. It’s a miracle I made it here at all considering one of my eyes is so swollen I can’t see out of it, and the other stings from my own blood.

But this is the only place I’m safe. The family I wish I was born to. The one who are the enemies of my own but still give me everything I need without me having to ask.

I drop my bike in the driveway and clamber up the stairs, tripping several times on the way up before knocking on the door. While I wait, I lean against the frame, finally allowing the pain to break through the walls I built until I could get to safety.

The Russos don’t believe in weakness. They don’t believe that a man should feel pain, and therefore any sign of agony would only lead to being beaten even more.

Today’s injuries are courtesy of training, or at least that’s what Uncle Angelo called it. Sometimes when he’s bored, he’ll pit my cousin and me against one another. Elijah is a few months younger than me, but he is a little taller and a whole lot stockier than I am.

The aim is the same as survival of the fittest, but what that really translates to is enjoying his nephews beating the life out of one another until one of us taps out.

Except, tapping out isn’t the end of it. God, I wish it was. I’ve watched some professional boxing over the years and I know the concept, but that’s not how he plays it. When you tap out, you’re giving up, and Russos never give up. Despite the fact I don’t share a last name with the piece of shit, I still fall in that category.

This is the first time I’ve fled to the refuge the Saint James family offer me, but when I ran it was the only place I could think about coming. It’s the only place I’m truly safe from my uncles.

A mess of blonde flashes across my vision and when I look up, I’m met with ice blue filled with horror.

“Oh my god, Everett, what happened to you?” Wynter shoots forward to help me into the house.

Everything in this house is nice, too nice even. It’s kind of funny that this was my father’s house, even if we never stayed here. I never even came here. My mother preferred to be closer to the city, I guess being isolated here with the devil himself wasn’t that appealing for her.

The first time Uncle Angelo found out I knew the Saint James family he tried to fill my head with lies. Of course I know Ron killed my dad and took over his operation, but the reasoning my uncles gave me is so farfetched I can’t believe they thought I would believe them.

I don’t answer the angel I’ve become obsessed with, instead letting her help me inside and hoping I don’t drip blood all over the expensive furniture. When she tries to steer me into the lounge room I immediately halt.

“Not in here,” I say.

Wynter watches me for a moment, as if trying to find something within my beaten gaze before nodding. “Okay, let’s go into the bathroom.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Although I trust the Saint James family, I already owe them so much, and I know in the line of work we’re in that’s never a good thing and seeing as I owe the Russo family for taking me in after my father was killed, I already owe entirely too much.

Wynter tries to support as much of my weight as she can, but she’s so tiny she’s barely holding any of it. I won’t tell her that though because it would make her sad, and I never want to see her anything but happy. Her smile has quickly become my favorite thing in the world, and sometimes when I hang out with Rayne and Storm, it’s mainly in the hope that I’ll see her.

We’ve grown closer over the last year and even though she’s a few years younger than I am, she’s one of my best friends, but it would still be weird for me to come over just to see her.

She helps me perch on the toilet lid and busies herself looking through the cupboard for the first aid kit. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” she asks.

“No,” I reply. Wynter is too pure to be tainted for the shit my family does, especially what they force Elijah and I to do to one another.

Her eyes dart up to meet mine before nodding. “Okay, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” She pulls the kit out and places it on top of the vanity. “But if you ever do need to talk about anything, I’m here for you.” The small smile playing on her lips is both comforting and concerning. Doesn’t she know I could never taint her with my darkness.

“Thank you, dove.” The nickname I’ve been calling her in my head for the last year slips from my lips, but I don’t try to take it back.

She watches me for a moment, unsure she heard me correctly, but she doesn’t question it. Instead she opens the kit and starts cleaning my wounds. With anyone else, I would try to hide my pain, but not Wynter. She won’t judge me for flinching when antiseptic seeps into open wounds, or laugh if I swear from the pain, because she’s not like that.

Wynter is the kindest, gentlest person I’ve ever known, and being around her settles the wounded parts of me that have always felt like gaping sores.

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