Page 55 of Dead of Wynter

“And we’ve triple checked everyone who knew we were going to see the lawyer?” she asks.

“No one has so much as a friend six times removed of any of Russo’s people,” Storm says.

Wynter closes her eyes and takes deep breaths, each one sounding more steady than the last. When the ice blue reappears, any fear from before is long gone, and she’s back to being the fierce queen I know her to be.

“Open it.”

Storm sucks in a breath as he cuts the tape holding the box closed. We both peer over into the box while Wynter remains behind me where I put her.

“Motherfucker,” Storm roars, his hand sweeping the monitors from the desk in one swift movement. The contents isn’t a bomb, but I almost wish it was. It would likely cause Wynter less pain and end this war before it can really begin.

“Do I want to look?” she asks, her fists holding on to the back of my shirt in a vice grip.

“Probably not,” I admit. I should throw her over my shoulder and cart her out of here so she never has to see the contents of the box, but I don’t want her to resent me for keeping things from her, even if I’m only trying to shield her.

Wynter moves slowly until she’s staring down into the box. The color drains from her cheeks and her hands fly to cover her mouth as he eyes flit from item to item.

It’s not any one thing in the box that is most horrifying, because all of it is equally so. Every single thing is more twisted than the last, just for different reasons, and separately most people wouldn’t think twice about any of them.

I place my hand on the small of Wynter’s back to remind her I’m here as I look up to meet Storm’s gaze. The fire and fury swirling around in the gray is darker than any I’ve ever seen. We’ve had threats to the women in the family before, Emerson was kidnapped for god’s sake, but no one has ever gone after one of them like this, so personally. It’s like they’ve pulled all the worst moments of her life and threw them in a box.

Another dead dove.

A newspaper with her on the front claiming her to be the ‘Queen of Chicago’ and a broken crown beside it to represent her fall.

A doll with blonde hair and ice-blue eyes lying face down with red pen marks all over its ass and thighs.

And a note with bold writing clear enough to read without ever having to touch it.

BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME, YOUR HIGHNESS.

Wynter’s eyes shoot up to meet Storm’s and the two of them stare at one another for a moment. “How the fuck could they know about this?” She pulls the doll from the box and shoves it toward him. “How the fuck does anyone know about this?” she shouts. “You’re the only fucking person on this earth that knew up until a few days ago. There were no photos taken, I never told another soul, so who the fuck did you tell?”

Storm’s face is ashen, the color completely drained as he stares at the doll meant to represent the day she was violated. I’m curious about who knew as well, because Rayne and I were never told, and the fact that someone else knew makes me ropable. “There were photos,” he murmurs and Wynter stills beneath my hands, her eyes widening as she waits for her brother to continue. “I had the doctor take a few on a disposable camera just in case we ever needed it.”

“In what universe would we need it?” Wynter cries. “Are you fucking kidding me right now, Storm? I was fucking violated by a man you hired to protect me, andyouthought it was pertinent that we have evidence that that happened to me?”

“I thought if there were any lasting impacts from your wounds a doctor might need to know what happened to you,” he admits.

“But that’s not why you’ve kept them all these years,” I say. I don’t know how I know, maybe it’s the way he’s avoiding eye contact, or the way his head is hung in shame, but I consider this man my brother, and I always know when he’s lying.

“No, it’s not.” He shakes his head and collapses into the chair behind the desk.

“How could you?” Wynter whispers, her body crumpling into mine.

“This is the part of the business you don’t understand, Wyn, it’s why I never wanted you or Snow involved.”

“Because you have to keep dirt on your own fucking family.” Wynter’s yelling now and there’s no amount of comfort I can give to ease this hurt.

“That’s not what this was.” Storm’s eyes flare as they finally meet ours again. “I killed a man who has ties to some serious fucking fire power, men that we wouldn’t want to meet in our goddamn nightmares, and I killed him for what he did to you. I will never feel sorry for what I did, no matter the amount of heat this family gets for my actions, someone hurt my baby sister and he deserved a much worse death than even I could give him, but in the event that some of that family came looking, I thought it may help to have evidence ofwhyI killed him. People like that understand loyalty, and if showing them the fucked-up things he did to you meant they didn’t come after us. It was a precaution,” he explains.

Wynter’s body shakes violently, but without being able to see her face I can’t tell if it’s fury or pain causing the shivers. I wrap my arms around her and hold her against my chest, making sure she won’t fall if her legs buckle beneath her. “It’s been eight years, Storm. I think the statute of limitations is well and truly over.”

Storm is still being evasive. His eyes dart around the room, sweat drips from his temple, and the man who always has his shit together looks moments away from crumpling.

“What aren’t you telling us?” I ask.

He sighs, his head leaning on his hands on the desk. “There was a… breach a couple of months ago.”

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