Chapter 25: Dead of Wynter: Chapter 24

Once I’ve settled Wynter into her bed and made sure she’s asleep, there’s something I need to take care of. I barely managed to keep my anger under wraps in front of her, but I don’t give a shit how much she begged him not to tell me. Storm should have told me she was hurt.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around how it could even happen, but it must have been in the months I couldn’t get into the dorm rooms to put cameras and trackers on everything, and she didn’t take a lot of the things I planted bugs on before she left.

Vaguely I recall a couple of weeks a few months into college that she didn’t leave her room at all, but I assumed she had the flu and no one ever thought to correct me. I didn’t even think much of Craig’s disappearance. Security isn’t always long term because they’re normally running from their own lives, and at some point they want to go back.

I burst into Storm’s office without knocking and startle both him and Rayne who are huddled around a laptop on the desk. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me what happened to Wynter when she started college?” I growl, all the tenderness I showed her just a few minutes ago is long gone and nothing but anger remains for the men sitting before me.

“What happened to Wynter when she started college?” Rayne asks, his eyes turning to his brother and a look of confusing falling across his features.

Storm sighs and closes the laptop. “I had hoped it would take you longer to find the evidence,” he admits.

“What evidence? Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on and what happened to my baby sister? Who the fuck do I need to kill?”

“No one, I took care of it,” Storm tells him.

“Took care of what?” Rayne snaps.

“I had a right to know. We had a deal.” I slam my fist into the door, the wood shaking violently from the force.

“Had a right to know what? I swear to God one of you motherfuckers better tell me what the fuck is going on before I lose it.” Rayne’s own anger is palpable. I assumed they both knew, that Rayne would have been the one to handle it, but clearly I was wrong. That should give me reason to pause, that if Storm hadn’t told their brother what happened, maybe it was reasonable to not have told me, but I’m way past rational right now. Rational went out the window the moment the door of Wynter’s room clicked shut behind me.

I stare at Storm for long moments, my head tilted as I wait for him to tell his brother all about what he hid from us. He sighs and leans back in his chair. “When Wynter was in college, someone…hurt her.” He chooses his words carefully, but if he thinks he’s getting away with being vague, he has another thing coming.

“Violated her,” I correct and Rayne’s head whips around so quick I swear I hear his neck crack from the pressure.

“What the fuck is he talking about?” Rayne snaps at his brother.

“This isn’t exactly something we want to know about as her brothers,” Storm says, his eyes locked on mine.

“Yeah well, if you’d called me like you should have, I would have taken care of it. I would have taken care of her,” I reply, my arms crossed over my chest.

“You’d just left her!” Storm roars, slamming both hands down on the desk in front of him. “We all agreed it was what was best, but you don’t know how broken she was without you, Everett. You don’t have a fucking clue. I couldn’t risk calling you just so you could leave again. She wouldn’t have survived, especially after what Craig did.”

“Craig, as in her security? And what do you mean, violated her?” Rayne growls. He’s nearing the edge of his tether and if Storm doesn’t start giving us answers soon, he’s probably going to tear this office apart. The violent streak in him has calmed since Emerson walked into his life, but that doesn’t mean the thought of his family hurt won’t set him off like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

Storm sighs. “Yes. Wynter’s security when she first moved to Boston hurt her. He…” He sucks in an unsteady breath as he prepares himself for the words to leave his mouth. “He tied her down and hit her with his belt repeatedly.”

“What the fuck?” Rayne roars as he stands from his seat so quickly the chair flings back and hits the ground in a heavy bang. “Why the fuck would he do that? And why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“She asked me not to tell anyone, but you two by name. She didn’t want both brothers to know what he’d done to her, and she didn’t want Everett coming back because he felt guilty that she was hurt.”

“How bad was it?” Rayne asks through gritted teeth.

Storm takes another deep breath and looks longingly at the whiskey across the room. “Bad. The doctor took hours cleaning the wounds. I tried to get her to go to the hospital, but she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t even let me in for days.” He drops his head into his hands in a sign of defeat. In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve only seen him look like this twice. The first was the night I told him about what I’d done, and why I had to leave. And the other was a week ago as we tried to work out where to start looking for his parents’ murder.

All I’ve done for the last hour is stare at the note in my hand. The writing only seems to hold my attention more as time passes, the way the handwritten note is scrawled messily across the page, the threat in the words clear and precise. It doesn’t take a genius to work out the intent behind them, or even who sent it.

My family have always been a bunch of psychotic assholes which is why I never wanted anything to do with them. When I was young, my mother shielded me from the worst of it. My father’s affairs, the abuse, both physical and verbal, and all the things I saw that no child should have to, including watching as my father killed my mother in front of my eyes.

It was strange how differently the Saint James family ran the same operation my father had. They bred loyalty and respect, where my father ruled with nothing but fear. The night I heard him order a hit on a woman and child for the misgivings of one man was the night I knew I didn’t want to be anything like him.

As terrible as my father was, he’s nothing compared to the other side of the family. The Russos are another breed of awful. They’ve always been the scum of this city, but since my father died they’ve only escalated. By marrying my mother off to my father, they thought they guaranteed themselves the key to the city, but they didn’t anticipate the takeover.

I managed to keep my friendship with the Saint James family a secret for a long time. When I slipped out for the night here and there they didn’t seem to notice, or care for that matter. I lived with Uncle Angelo, the unattached, bachelor of the family, but also the cold, ruthless leader. He wasn’t home enough to give a shit about the parentless nephew he never wanted.

And when they found out, I moved out the same day. The Saint James’s welcomed me with open arms, and I’ve been here ever since, with the exception of college.

But as I stare down at the note in my hand, I know deep down this is the last night I can spend in this house. I’m putting Wynter in danger just by being here, and I can’t risk her. I won’t.

Wynter is everything good in the world. She’s beauty, and light, and happiness all rolled into the most stunning package I’ve ever seen in my life. She is my life.

We’ve spent the last few years skirting around one another, but since she turned eighteen a few weeks ago tensions have been high. The subtle kisses and touches aren’t so innocent anymore. They’re filled with passion and need for all the years we’ve had to wait for our time. And now that it’s here, I have to leave. Talk about cruel fate.

By the time I force myself to leave the refuge of my bedroom and head up the hallway to Storm’s room, my hands are shaking and I’m barely able to hold on to the note. It’s burning my hands with the threat scrawled across it, and the longer I hold it, the deeper the dread seems to bury itself until it seeps from my pores like a virus.

The moment the door swings open and I’m face to face with my best friend he knows something is wrong, he knows me well enough to know the catatonic state I find myself in is a very bad sign, and the moment he eyes the note in my hand he pushes past me and knocks on the door across the hall.

“Rayne, we’ve got a problem.”