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“Someone’s in the house,” I tell him, dropping to my knees and grabbing the gun that Grayson hid under here only yesterday. “King heard a noise in the living room.”
“FUCK.”
Within seconds, the guys create a barrier by the entrance of the dining room, keeping me protected as I stand behind them, a gun in each of our hands. I wait impatiently, my free hand pumping at my side as my knees shake with nerves. I had time to prepare for the raid to get the kids back, but this sudden bullshit really does numbers on my sanity.
We hear loud grunts coming from the living room, but no one moves, knowing that King would call for help if he needed it. The grunts get louder and louder and it becomes clear that King has the intruder in his steel grasp.
“You good?” Grayson questions, his voice sailing out to the kitchen.
There are a few more loud grunts and screeches, telling me that it’s definitely a woman but I don’t get much more time to think on it as King’s voice comes flowing back to us. “Situation is handled,” he says as the boys relax before me, their guns going back into their hiding spots. “You’re going to want to see this.”
CHAPTER 18
“What the ever-loving fuck is this?” I mutter as my gaze drops to Ida Carver who’s currently tied to one of the tall back chairs from beneath my breakfast bar.
Ida’s pissed-off stare bypasses me and lands on her confused son who looks as though he has absolutely no idea what the hell is going on, but like … same.
“Oh, Dante,” Ida rushes out, her eyes full of fear as she attempts to fuck with Carver’s head. “Tell them to get me out of these ridiculous ties. They can’t do this to me. I … I … I was just coming to check on you, and this is the reception I received? This is not good enough. I raised you better than this. Release me now. Your father would be rolling in his grave.”
Carver’s brows furrow as he watches his mother, right along with the rest of us, and without saying a word, he raises his gaze to King who nods toward the kitchen counter. Each one of us swivel our stares to the table to find a small pistol and a knife that looks like it came out of a kitchen knife block.
I suck in a gasp as Ida’s eyes widen, realizing just how much shit she’s really in.
This bitch did not just break into my home to kill me.
Rage burns within me and I go to move toward her but Carver’s hand shoots out to stop me, pressing against my stomach, his arm like a steel pole, completely impassable. “You’re fucking kidding me,” he says with a disbelieving scoff, looking at his mother with a stone-cold stare that sends chills sailing down my spine. “You really thought you could come in here and hurt my girl?”
Ida’s icy stare flicks to me with so much putrid hate that it knocks me back a step, but just as quickly as she hit me with it, it’s gone and her stare is back on her son. “That … that little hussy murdered your father and then took you away from me too. I have nothing left, and what’s worse is that you’re so far up her ass that you can’t even see how vile she truly is. How can you stand by her side, knowing her values? She’s going to destroy Dynasty and take you down right along with it. Think of your sisters, Dante. Think of their future. Elodie Ravenwood needs to die, and I’m going to be the one to do it.”
Carver steps toward his mother and slowly circles her, putting himself at her back where she struggles to see him, so she locks her sick, twisted stare on me instead.
“You’re a joke, mother,” Carver says, his callous tone darker than I’ve ever heard it. “Look at yourself. You used to be the picture of elegance. You were the perfect wife for a man in power, seen and not heard. The other wives used to look at you as a queen among mere mortals, and now they snicker and pity you every time you walk into a room. You’re an embarrassment. You’re nothing. You will forever chase that same rush that you used to get, but it’s long gone. That life is over, and you’re desperately hanging on to something that doesn’t exist anymore. It’s embarrassing.”
Ida sucks in a sharp, horrified gasp. “You don’t mean that, you horrible boy,” she seethes. “I am your mother. Show some respect.”
“I am, mother,” he says, spitting the word as though it was venom in his mouth. “In fact, I’m showing more respect and restraint than you could ever know. If I truly allowed myself to do what I wanted to do right now, you’d already be bleeding out on the floor.”
