Jasmine nudged against the back of my thighs. “Let her go, father. She has to be trained in obedience.” Her legs remained covered with a rose-coloured blanket, but temper flared her cheeks. “That was her issue with Jet. She never listened. I’ll teach her otherwise.”
How did I judge someone so wrong? All this time, I thought Jasmine was half-way sane—a crutch for her brother and stronger than all of them combined. But she was just as diabolical.
“If anyone can do it, it’s you, Jasmine.” Cut released me. “I have no doubt.”
Bonnie smiled, leaning on her stick. “Jasmine is an exemplary student. She’ll rise to the challenge.”
“You never have to doubt, father.” Jasmine’s frosty voice sent goosebumps over my skin. “I’m ten times the man my brothers were.”
Who was this person? This cold-hearted harpy who didn’t care. How could she sit there and speak to the man who’d killed her brothers, let alone agree to torture me.
He’s dead.
He’s dead.
He’s free from this insanity.
I couldn’t control the frothing animosity any longer. My lips pulled back. “You’re all monsters. Every single one of you. You’ll all pay.”
Cut sighed, “You were told to leave, Ms. Weaver. I suggest you listen.”
Bonnie swatted the back of my calves with her stick. “Move, you little guttersnipe.”
“Wait, grandmamma.” Jasmine wheeled herself in front of me with a few expert manoeuvres. “I have something else I want to say.”
The room sucked in a breath, all of us waiting.
Her gaze fell on mine, dead and empty. “You, Nila Weaver, are the reason my best friend is dead. You are the reason I am now sister to only one brother. And you are the reason my family is falling apart.” Her face darkened, manicured eyebrows shadowing angry eyes. “I asked you once to let the debts take place. I asked you to give your life for him—like it has always been. But you didn’t listen.”
Rolling away, she waved at the door. “Go to your room and think about that. Because this time, I’m not giving you a choice.
“This time, I’ll make you pay.”
I WOULD NEVER sleep again.
Not while Daniel roamed the corridors and Cut held my life in his hands. I would never relax while they breathed. I would never drop my guard while they plotted my demise.
But while they plotted, I plotted.
Together, we would meet in hell, and I was past caring who would win. As long as I exterminated them, I would happily trade my life for justice.
Twelve hours passed.
Twelve hours where my heart bled for Jethro and every minute erased his imprint on this world.
Twelve hours where I’d been alone.
I hadn’t seen anyone but Flaw. He’d knocked on my door around 9:00 p.m., bringing venison stew and crusty baguettes. He’d looked as bad as I did—his piercing eyes fogged with stress, his dark hair a turbulent mess. He was a direct mirror of grey disbelief and desolation. I’d wanted him to stay—to protect me if Daniel decided to pay a nocturnal visit, but the moment he’d delivered my dinner, he left.
Food was ash inside my mouth, but I forced small bites, painstakingly swallowing and providing energy to the only weapon I could rely on. Once I’d eaten every morsel, I’d sat cross-legged in the centre of my bed and tightened my grip around the ruby-encrusted dirk.
I couldn’t lie down because Jethro's smell laced my sheets.
I couldn’t close my eyes because his handsome face and blazing love haunted me.
And I couldn’t relax because I needed to be ready to attack if any Hawk came for me.
Only, they never came.
Daybreak brought a smidgen of peace, illuminating Hawksridge—yet again, hiding the filthy evil that seemed so obvious at night.
My cheeks itched from the salt of my sadness, and my head ached from dehydration.
For one heart-ripping moment, I permitted myself to fall face first on the bedding where Jethro had told me everything. I allowed grief to grab me with thick arms and smother me in terrible tears.
I relived his touch and kisses. I punished myself with memories of him slipping inside me, of him saying he loved me for the first time. I came completely undone as I hugged my knife and inhaled the last reminders I would ever have of him.
I had no photographs, no love letters.
Only a few texts and recollections.
They weren’t worth any monetary value, but in a blink, they became my most prized possessions.
Once I’d shed a final tear and drugged myself on his subtle flavour of woods and leather, I hauled myself out of bed and into the shower. Stepping into the hot spray felt like a betrayal to Jethro—as if I washed away the past, moving into a future without him.
I thought I’d cried my final tear, but beneath the waterfall, I purged again, letting my tears swirl down the drain.
I will kill them.
And I will dance on their graves when I do.
Dawn morphed to morning, one hour blending into another, drifting me further from Jethro’s memory.
I tried to leave. My body was weak, needing fuel, mimicking my aching heart with emptiness. But the doorknob refused to spin.
They’d locked me inside.
Could I break it down? Destroy it? But why should I waste my fury on an innocent door when Cut and Daniel deserved to be torn into smithereens?
So, I did the only thing I could. I sat on my chaise and gripped my cell-phone with chilly fingers, begging for a miracle to happen.
Text me, Jethro.
Prove it’s all a big mistake.
Over and over, I repeated my prayer, only for the stubborn phone never to answer. It remained blank and unfeeling, the battery slowly dwindling. The battle to keep going drained me to the point of exhaustion.
I could call for help. I could ring the police chief who’d taken me back after the Second Debt. But they’d wiped my file when I did the Vanity Fair interview. I’d cried wolf and they wouldn’t believe me—especially as most of them were bought by Cut.
Plus, I can’t leave Vaughn. I couldn’t risk giving them ammunition to hurt him.
Indulging in the past, rather than dwelling on a desolate future, I opened every text he’d sent, reliving the rush and sexual frustration of forbidden whispers.
Kite007: Me and my wandering hand missed you.
The intoxicating innocence when I didn’t know it was him.
Kite007: If I said I wanted one night of blatant honesty, no douche-baggery, no bullshit of any kind, what would you say?
The first crack in his cool exterior, revealing just how deep he ran.
Kite007: I feel what you feel. Whether it be a kiss or a kick or a killing blow. I wished I didn’t, but you’re mine. Therefore, you are my affliction.
The first taste of truth when he told me his condition in riddles.
Kite007: Don’t go into the dark alone, little Weaver. Monsters roam the shadows, and your time is officially up.
The last darkness inside him that’d vanished entirely the night we revealed everything.
All of it.
Every letter and comma were still tangible, while the author had now vanished. I would’ve given anything for him to reappear—to magically reverse tragedy and come back to me.
Jethro…
Hunching over my phone, I let go again.
Wracking sobs, heaving ribs, and a dying soul screaming that nothing would ever be the same.
He’s dead.
He’s…
dead.
At lunchtime, Flaw appeared.
My only visitor and I didn’t know if he was friend or foe.
For the past while, I’d stared into space, picturing gruesome ways to end it.
I couldn’t cry anymore.
I couldn’t read Kite’s texts anymore.
All I could do was exist in a room where scents of love mixed with smells of war, settling deeper into hate.
Flaw didn’t speak, only delivered a meal of salad and cured ham. With sad eyes, he retreated from my room and locked the door.
It’d taken over an hour before I had the energy to move from my crumpled, soggy ball. Along with the agony of grief, I’d surpassed the craving of hunger, leaving me blissfully blank of basic necessities.
I shivered, but I wasn’t cold.
My stomach growled, but I wasn’t hungry.
My heart kept beating, but I was no longer alive.
I wasn’t human. I was a killer waiting for first blood.
Blood.
The thought of extracting hot, sticky red from Cut and Daniel kick-started my energy. My hand curled around my blade as I crawled across the carpet and poked the food.
Eat.
Stay strong.
Kill.
The ham settled like salty concrete on my tongue. Every mouthful wasn’t about nutrition or satisfaction—it was about building power so I was ready for war.
Minute by minute, my anger solidified. The Hawks had been untouchable for long enough. They believed no amount of treason or rebellion could dethrone them.
They were wrong.
Their reign was over. It was time for a new ruler. One who stood for justice rather than debts. One who would avenge those she’d lost.
They’ve underestimated me.
And they would die because of it.
Dusk crept silently across my carpet.
The tentative darkness sucked the light from glittering sequins, sinking into rich velvet from the fabric bolts on the walls. Every minute its gloomy fingers made their way stealthily from window to bed, reminding me that my world might’ve ended yesterday, but the rest of the globe didn’t care.