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Carver pushes into his mother, overpowering her and turning the knife on her, the tip pressing against her stomach. “And how will you do that when you’re rotting in hell beside him?” he questions, not flinching, not blinking, hell, not even fucking breathing.
Ida sucks in a breath, her eyes flashing down to her stomach and staring at the tip of the blade that pierces through her clothing. “You wouldn’t do it,” she spits. “You’ve always been too weak. Now, cut the act and release me. I’m tired of your lackluster performances. You already proved that you don’t have what it takes.”
Carver doesn’t move as he presses harder against the knife, piercing her skin. Ida sucks in a breath, her eyes going wide, realizing just how much she underestimated her son. “DANTE,” she hisses. “THAT’S ENOUGH.”
I go to take a step toward him, but Grayson’s hand curls around my wrist, pulling me back. “He needs this,” Grayson mutters in my ear, so softly that I doubt Carver would hear us. Though, he’s so damn focused on ending his mother’s pathetic existence that a bomb could go off right now and Carver still wouldn’t move.
The knife slips just a little deeper and Ida’s gaze flicks around the room, silently begging for one of us to save her as her son uses her own fucking knife to slaughter her, but she’ll get no help from us. This has been a long time coming and after how many times we’ve caught her slipping up, she’s lucky that we haven’t already ended her.
The knife slowly pushes deeper inside her stomach and blood trickles from the corners of her mouth as she turns her stare back on her son’s, looking at him with such deep betrayal. She trusted that no matter what, the bond between mother and son would have saved her, despite coming here to end his life while he slept—the same way that her husband had murdered my parents.
“Dante,” she breathes, choking on her blood as it starts to fill her lungs. “Dante, please.”
Carver is relentless, and instead of easing up on her, he plunges the knife deeper, giving her only moments to live. “Who let you out?” he demands, his tone low and terrifying, so fucking low that I shrink back a step and press myself up against Cruz’s chest.
Ida opens her mouth, trying to say something but she chokes on her own blood, the words gurgling in her throat.
“WHO?” Carver orders.
Tears fall from her eyes and I don’t doubt that it’s out of pain, not the million regrets that are bound to be rushing through her mind. “H … Har … Beckett. Harlen Beckett,” she finally manages as her eyes begin to fade away.
Grayson straightens beside me, his fists curling at his sides as his jaw clenches in rage, but he doesn’t dare move, giving Carver this moment to do what should have been done months ago. “You were wrong, mother,” he tells her, standing tall with pride. “It wasn’t me who was unworthy of the Carver name. It was you, you and Royston. You’ve both brought shame and embarrassment down upon me and I will have to carry your burdens for the rest of my life. But don’t be fooled, I will resurrect the Carver name in my own image and my sisters will soar under it. Ravenwood blood will pulse through my childrens’ veins and one day, Dynasty will cease to exist as the corrupted, bloodthirsty joke of a society that you and your husband molded it to be. Dynasty will rise again, and when it does, it will be in the image of Elodie Ravenwood, and the people who follow her.”
My heart races at his words but I keep my mouth shut as Ida shakes her head, real fear shining in her eyes as life continues to fade from her eyes. She attempts to speak but all we hear is her blood blocking her airway. She goes limp in Carver’s hold and just to finish it off right, he slams the knife the rest of the way in, the angle making it impossible for the blade to have missed her heart.
Carver releases his grip on the knife and steps away from her, letting her lifeless body sprawl out on his bedroom floor, and just as he turns to face us, wiping his mother’s blood onto his bedsheets, the first rays of sunlight stream through his bedroom window.
CHAPTER 33
We storm in through the underground cells, all five of us looking around and trying to figure out exactly how Harlen Beckett was able to free Ida, and more so, why? It doesn’t make any sense.
Considering the complexity of Ida’s case and the fact that she wasn’t intended for a short-term stay like most of our cell guests, the keys weren’t readily available for the sixteen heads of Dynasty as they usually are. Only I had a key, and only I knew where it was, but as the boys scrubbed the blood out of Carver’s bedroom carpet and I raced down the hall to the secret room, filled with all the little details of my life, I realized that the key was nowhere to be seen.
