I’m on my own.
My fingers fiddled with the pocket of the hoodie I’d slipped on before Daniel stole me from my quarters. A long knitting needle rested unseen. The needle wasn’t flimsy or weak. Single pointed, metal construction, approximately thirty-five centimetres long. If my hoodie hadn’t had a big front pocket, I wouldn’t have been able to conceal it.
I wasn’t much of a knitter—preferring to sew rather than deal with yarn and wool, but on this occasion, it’d become my most favourite implement.
Please, let it be enough.
I didn’t have bullets or blades, but I did have my namesake. Hadn’t I promised I would become a needle rather than thread? That I would be sharp, ruthless? Able to puncture and defeat?
The bubbling anger and capable fight returned, settling into my soul. I might be on my own, but I’d achieved a lot. I’d learned how to fight monsters and win.
So what I wouldn’t be in England?
I would make Africa my personal battleground.
Cut looked at me, a vicious smile on his lips. “Not just to Botswana, Nila. To the diamond mecca. To our mine.”
His words echoed Daniel’s from before.
Stroking the hidden needle, I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”
Cut laughed quietly, accepting a flute of champagne from a blonde-haired stewardess. “Why do you think?”
The captain cleared his throat. “If you don’t need me, sir, I’ll leave you to it.” With a quick salute, he disappeared into the cockpit, leaving Daniel to slink down the aisle and choose the seat behind me. Marquise kept going, not saying a word, just throbbing with sheer muscle.
The plane became a sardine can, imprisoning me with three men I despised.
“You want to tell her or shall I?” Cut glanced at Daniel.
Daniel leaned forward, fisting my newly cut hair. Every time I thought of the recently sliced strands, I froze with sadness then warmed with contentedness. Jethro had righted his brother’s wrongs. Fixing his family’s brutality with gentle soothing.
The new style only solidified my will to win. I would avenge. And my hair would grow back while they decomposed in their tombs.
I sat dead straight, vibrating with hatred as Daniel murmured, “I told you already, Weaver. It’s time for a few catch-ups. You still owe us for the Third Debt. You still owe us for the Fourth Debt. And once your debts are paid, there’s the matter of the Final Debt to call it even.” He laughed, running his monstrous fingers over my scalp. “It’s extremely convenient that the rest of the Fourth Debt takes place away from the estate. Not just for the change of scenery but so my fucking sister stops meddling.”
Pain burned where he held my hair.
Cut stroked the back of my hand. “Yes, Jasmine proved she’s strong and got her way with the new laws for the inheritance, but my dear daughter and her high and mighty morals won’t be welcome where we’re going.”
My voice reigned with righteousness. “She’ll never forgive you for what you’ve done.”
Cut cocked his head. “What makes you think she has a choice? We’re family. All sins are forgivable by those who share the same blood.”
I choked on a laugh. “Seriously? You truly think that?”
“I don’t think that. I know that. Families stick together. That’s why our business has done so well. Why we rose above you and ensured centuries of retribution.” His touch on my hand flew up to tap against my diamond collar. “Ever wondered about the story behind the Weaver Wailer? Ever stopped to think how it was created?”
I pursed my lips, not giving him the satisfaction of a reply. Of course, I’d wondered. But I wouldn’t weaken myself by enquiring—not when Cut seemed to think the knowledge would hurt me.
“This collar, the one I will soon take from your corpse, was fashioned by the grandson of the woman Mr. Weaver raped every night. She sketched something so beautiful it could only be hideous in its intent and William Hawk ensured his grandmother’s final wish was created once she’d died.”
Confusion clogged comprehension.
I didn’t understand how they were linked. “Why?”
Cut scowled. “Why?”
Breaking his hold on my collar, I turned to face him. “Why only hurt the Weaver women? Why not the men? It was Mr. Weaver who harmed the Hawks. Take your vengeance out on the men. Pick on your own sex.”
“We still would have won, Nila, because like it or not, the Weavers are weak.” Cut laughed, his teeth flashing with mirth. “And besides, taking their women hurts them more than physical wounds ever could.”
I didn’t need to ask why. I knew.
Stripping the men of their loved ones highlighted not only their failure to protect but their weakness at saving them. They would live forever haunted by those they failed—troubled and plagued by their downfalls, turning into twisted, broken men—just like my father.
I sighed, looking out the window at my final glimpse of the country I’d been born, raised, and indebted.
Cut placed his palm on my thigh, squeezing. “You’ll learn everything soon enough. Every secret. Every tale. It’s all yours from here on out, Nila. Ask questions. Pry and interrogate. You might as well as your time is tick, ticking away.”
Closing his eyes, he settled into his chair. “I’d get some sleep if I were you. Once we land, you’ll have some debts to pay.”
We touched down in darkness.
How long had it taken to trade homeland for foreign soil?
Ten hours? Twelve?
I’d lost track.
However, it could’ve been bright sunshine and it wouldn’t have made a difference. With the Hawks imprisoning me, it was perpetual darkness in my world.
I twisted in my seat, catching glimpses of runway lights and buildings as the captain taxied to a private hangar. The moment the plane slipped inside, Cut yanked me from my seat and shoved me to disembark.
I didn’t speak.
Cotton wool and candyfloss replaced my brain. My back ached, my energy dwindled, and my eyelids scratched like cat claws. All I wanted was rest and safety. I needed to regroup and prepare.
But I had to stay alert and ready.
The cool night replaced the stuffy heat of the cabin as Cut herded me from the plane. The chilly air tore through my hoodie and jeans. I gulped in large breaths to wake me.
Daniel grabbed my arm, escorting me to the armed vehicle waiting in the middle of the hangar. Pieces of airplane bric-a-brac littered the walls and counters lining the aviation perimeter.
Cut’s logo stamped his ownership on everything—from cars to wheelable scaffolding and hydraulic tools. Everywhere I looked, I couldn’t ignore whose territory I existed in and who ultimately controlled me.
The Jeep wasn’t like a typical one in the U.K. This had armoured panels, large bumper guards, and tinted windows. Pockmarks of bullets and splattered mud added a story of violence.
This isn’t England.
I wasn’t blind or deaf. I’d watched reports on how dangerous Africa could be. How ruthless the people. How fatal the landscape. How deadly the animals.
I’d become protected by the same devils who would hurt me. Reliant on the Hawks to save my life, only so they could take it when suitable to their timeline.
“Get in.” Daniel pushed me into the Jeep and climbed in after me.
Cut followed but didn’t enter. His arm slung over the roof, leaning his bulk against the door. His leather jacket creaked and his crumpled shirt showed evidence of a long flight, but his eyes gleamed bright and shrewd. “Put your seatbelt on, Nila. Can never be too careful.”
If I hadn’t agreed with him, I would’ve spat in his face.
My hand shook a little from hunger as I pulled the belt over my chest and buckled in. Now, if only Daniel didn’t put his on and we had a car accident—flying through the windscreen and splattering like a gnat on the road.
My stomach twisted as the images switched to Jethro. Thousands of miles now separated us. Oceans and valleys, continent
s and mountains. My fingers itched to text him. My hands empty of the one possession that’d allowed me communication for the past several months. My phone had become more than an outlet of transmission; it’d become a lifeline.
But I hadn’t had time to grab it. The device sat abandoned in my quarters at the Hall.
I couldn’t tell Jethro—couldn’t advice plans or activities.
I’m on my own.
I’m all alone.
My hidden knitting needle grew warm, humming with a war beat.
It doesn’t matter.
I’m ready.
“Remember what I said, Nila. The next few days are of mutual benefit. Treat it as such.” Looking at Daniel, Cut rubbed a hand over his brow. “I’ll meet you there. Have a few errands to run on the way.”
Daniel nodded. “Fine.”
“You’ll sort everything out?”
“Don’t worry about us.” Daniel smiled, squeezing my thigh with biting fingers. “We’ll have a fantastic time on our own, won’t we, Nila?”
I flinched. My mind raced with scenarios on how to stop my future from unfolding. I didn’t know how long the drive would be, but the minute we arrived at our destination, I was ruined.
There was no one to tell him no.
No one to interrupt if he tried to rape me again.
And he will try again.
My left hand disappeared into my hoodie pocket, fisting around the needle.
I have to be ready to do whatever is necessary.
If that meant becoming a killer with a tool of my trade, then so be it. Cut wouldn’t be there. Perhaps this was the perfect opportunity to slaughter Daniel and put one demon into his grave.
Cut leaned into the Jeep, grabbing Daniel by the scruff of his neck. The symbolism wasn’t lost on me. He held his son like an animal would hold its troublesome young.
“You are not to touch her, understand? Put her to bed and guard her. Let her rest. And by rest, I mean prepare for what’s in store.”
Letting Daniel go, Cut wiped his hands on the front of his jeans. “You touch her, Buzzard, and you won’t be in fit shape to claim the Third Debt. Got it?”
My heart galloped.
Cut was the one person I wanted to die a gruesome death, but he’d just saved me from his vile offspring. Was it jealousy at not getting first dibs? Or some sick chauvinistic protection?
Daniel scowled. “No fair. You said—”
“I said we’d make her pay the Third Debt when we arrived. However, that means we share.” Cut’s eyes glittered. “I find out you didn’t share, Hawksridge gets locked in a trust and goes to Jasmine’s heir.”
“Fuck!” Daniel glared into the night, seething.
I’d never known a stricter, more delusional parent. Cut had shot his two sons. He willingly did whatever he had done to his own brother to inherit my mother. He had his ludicrous laws and absolutely no scruples.
Yet, he controlled Daniel so effortlessly.
Daniel puffed in retaliation then softened in respect. “Okay, Pop. You got it.”
“Good.” Slamming the top of the Jeep, Cut ordered, “Move out.” Shutting the door, he stepped back.
The vehicle instantly became stifling. Daniel breathed hard, his temper curling around me like rancid smoke.
“Fucking arsehole. Rules. Always bloody rules with him.”
“Yes, and you’d do well to remember those rules.”
His eyes shot to mine. “Fuck you, Weaver.”
An African man slid into the driver’s seat while an accomplice took the passenger beside him. The clank of metal from his rifle struck the top of the car.
A gun?
Why the hell did he need a gun?
The guard in the passenger seat swivelled around, his black skin turning him almost invisible in the dark interior. The perfect assassin. “We’ll get you there, Mr. Hawk. Not too much unrest this month. Should be safe.”
My eyes flew wide.
Danger.
From all corners.
If I somehow survived the Hawks, I’d have to beg for a miracle to return to England. I was stranded in a foreign country with my archenemy clutching tightly to my passport.
Daniel inched his hand further up my thigh. “Good to hear. I want to get to camp and put my darling Weaver to bed, so she’s fully rested for her busy itinerary.”
In a swipe, I shoved Daniel’s grip off me. “Don’t touch me.”
Daniel cursed under his breath.
The African man glanced in my direction, eyeing me once before turning back around. “Right you are, boss.”
The driver turned on the ignition, sending silence screaming with the rumbling engine.
Daniel inched closer, deleting the negative space between us with threats. “If I want to touch you; I will fucking touch you.”
I squeezed my eyes as Daniel slapped a possessive hold on my leg, sliding quickly up, up, up until he cupped my pussy. The memory of him doing something similar when Jethro first took me to Hawksridge had bile rising in my throat.
Daniel breathed hot in my ear. “You’re all mine now, cunt. Away from my sister. No brothers to interfere. Just me and dear ole’ dad.”
His fingers pressed on the seam of my jeans, right over my clit.
I shuddered in revulsion. “Pity for you, dear ole’ dad just cut off your balls.” Fire blazed in my heart. “You were told not to touch me. You’re nothing more than a glorified messenger boy. Do you honestly think Cut cares about you?” My laugh echoed with ice. “Really, Daniel? He loved Jethro and Kestrel more than he loves you and he shot them in cold blood. If I were you, that would make me think twice about my worth.”
His fingers dug harder. “Jet and Kes were nothing compared to me. Always weak. Always running off to play together while I watched and learned.”
“Did you ever think they would’ve accepted you if you’d been a little nicer? Been a brother to them rather than a lunatic?”
Daniel snorted. “You know nothing. Jet was always a pussy, and Kes thought he could save him. We’re Hawks. We’re meant to be indestructible not need to be fucking fixed. Why would I want to be friends with rejects like that?”
My heart cracked as Kes and his warmth and kindness filled my mind. “Maybe if you had, you’d be redeemable and not so one-dimensional.”
Daniel chuckled, his teeth white in the dark. “Who are you calling one-dimensional? I’ve got lots of tricks up my sleeve, bitch. Just wait till we get to the mine.” Letting me go, he sniffed his fingers obnoxiously loud. “Can’t wait to taste you. Can’t wait to claim you. I’ll obey my father, for now. But you keep pushing me and you’ll see who’s fucking sorry.”
The Jeep lurched forward.
And for the first time in my life, I prayed.
MY PHONE RANG.
A few birds took flight, their feathers rustling in the leaves of leering trees. My empathetic illness throbbed in my blood, fanning out, searching for signs that Nila wasn’t far from me. That I had time to do what I needed. That all of this would be over.
Shutting the top of the laptop, ceasing the email chain of instructions I’d been sharing with Kill, the Pure Corruption president in Florida, I swiped on my phone and pressed answer.
The number signalled the caller was at Hawksridge.
Nila?
My heart thundered. Please, be okay. “Jet speaking.”
“Kite, it’s me.” Jasmine’s worried voice came down the line, scattering fear in an instant.
Shit.
I loved my sister, but her call wasn’t good news. Even though she wasn’t close by, and our only connection was the phone, I sensed her panic and horror. My condition amplified her terror, injecting it directly into my bloodstream.
My hands curled tighter around the device. “What happened? Where’s Nila?”
My heart raced as Jaz swallowed a sob. “They took her!”
What?
My legs shot me upright. “Who took her?” I winced, gripping my healing side as
agony flared. Stupid fucking question. Not waiting for an answer, I growled, “Where did they take her? Where, Jasmine?”
Tears tainted her voice. “Bonnie was secretive all morning, not letting me leave my room, saying we had important things to go over. She wouldn’t let me go downstairs. She wouldn’t let me go to Nila’s quarters.”
My fingers clutched the phone like a mortal enemy. “Get to the point. Spit it out, Jaz! Where did they take her?”
Jasmine cried louder, wrapped up in her own grief. “I can’t believe I did it, Kite. I grabbed a pair of her flower cutting scissors and demanded the truth.” Disbelief and horror lurked in her tone. “I wheeled up to our grandmother and threatened to kill her if she didn’t tell me. I’ve become as bad as they have. I’m the same as Cut!” Her sobs came louder. “I’ve become them.”
Shit, I don’t have time for this.
Rage at her timewasting battled with my need to calm her. All her life, that’d been her ultimate fear: turning into Cut. Forgetting her humanity and being swept up in the evil romanticism of debts and death and blood.
Lowering my voice, I forced myself to remain calm. This was my sister. My blood. My fear for Nila was equal measure to my loyalty to Jasmine. “You’re not the same.”
Dashing into the tent, I grabbed the backpack with already packed essentials. “You did what we both should’ve done years ago. So what you threatened her? We should’ve killed her for the things she’s done. She’s the catalyst in all of this, Jaz. Not me, not you, not Kes. Not anyone. Her.”
Breathing hard, I stuffed last-minute necessities into my jean’s pocket and plotted a new plan. “We’re putting things right. If we have to kill to do that, we will.”
Jaz hiccupped, tears still clogging the line. “I just—I’ve let you down. She knows I’m on your side now. The way she looked at me, Jet. All this time she let me get away with things I know you would never have been permitted to. She indulged me as I’m the only girl. But she knows now. She knows what I truly think of her. I’ve ruined the trust you told me to gain.”
Her voice broke. “You asked me to keep Nila safe. You gave me a task. And because I’m stuck in this fucking chair, I let you down.”
Final Debt Page 2