Final Debt

by Pepper Winters

  Cut swiped a tired hand over his face. A tiny part of me wanted to shout so loud my admission would echo in every cave within the mine.

  It was me.

  Me.

  I slaughtered your offspring.

  I was the one who took his life before he could take mine.

  And I’ll take yours before we’re through.

  But I swallowed it back, letting my rage rejuvenate me.

  Cut snarled, “You’re lying. Stop fucking lying and tell me the truth.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  He grabbed my hair in a feral fist. “You had something to do with his disappearance. I know it. You can’t spin it away, Nila. I’ll tell you what I think happened.” Cocking his chin at Jethro, he growled, “Kite arrived and together you killed him. You plotted this and—”

  “No!”

  He yanked my head back. The diamonds around my neck bruised my larynx. “Tell me the truth then. Where. Is. My. Son?”

  I gasped. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Liar!”

  “No!” My eyes flew to Jethro. “Besides, it doesn’t matter now. Your firstborn is back from the dead. He’s your original heir. He can be again.” My injuries all flared in time with my raging heartbeat. Fighting against his hold, I did my best to cajole. “You know in your heart Daniel wasn’t fit to rule your empire. But Jethro is. You groomed him. He’s—”

  “Shut up!” Cut’s palm smashed against my cheek.

  Stars.

  I groaned in pain; my head hanging heavily as he let me go.

  Cut breathed hard, pacing away.

  Trying to tilt my chin and blink through grey and black, I willed Jethro to wake. I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I didn’t want to face whatever would happen by myself.

  I’m selfish.

  Wake up. Please…

  Jethro didn't move, slumping in his matching chair, barely breathing.

  Cut continued pacing, his boots kicking up diamond dust and soil. “I don’t care if Jethro is back from the dead. You’re forgetting I wanted him hurt. He betrayed me—with you, no less. I shot him on purpose.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “That’s not true.”

  Cut paused, his eyebrows shooting upward.

  I rushed, “You shot Jasmine, but Jethro protected her.” My heart raced, doing my best to touch some sort of humanity before it was too late. “I don’t think you wanted to shoot Jethro. You’ve never understood his condition, but you’re proud of how strong he is—how loyal he is to your family. How much he endured to be everything you ever asked him—”

  “Shut the fuck up.” Cut reared backward, wiping his hands on his trouser leg. “You have it all wrong.”

  “Enlighten me then. Tell me your secrets. You said you would. You told me I was entitled to know everything.” I couldn’t suck in a proper breath with fear. “I want to know. I have questions. So many, many questions. Tell me the truth of what happened when you claimed my mother. Did you love her? Did you ever feel anything for her to stop from killing her?”

  A cold smile spread his lips. “Out of everything, that’s what you want to know? Unpractical, stupidly romantic things?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Because those stupidly romantic things will show me if you ever had a soul.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, I have a soul, Nila Weaver.”

  “Show me.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.”

  Keep him talking. Keep stalling.

  “Tell me your story, Cut. Before you end this, make me understand.”

  Cut didn’t reply. Instead, he strolled over to an empty table lining the wall and stroked a finger in the thick dust. “I can see through your ploys. I know what you’re doing, but it so happens your request falls in line with my intentions.”

  A chill sent fearful frost down my spine.

  Throwing me a smile, Cut changed his path and headed toward the crudely made wooden door. The only entrance and exit. “Seeing as extracting truth from you is proving tiresome, let’s move onto more exciting things, shall we?”

  I couldn’t speak as terror cloaked me.

  I’d tried to stall and now Cut had twisted my agenda with his. I had a feeling I would’ve preferred a fist to the jaw every time I lied rather than what he planned now.

  Grabbing the door handle, Cut wrenched the entrance wide. Immediately, two men marched in. Men I hadn’t seen before. The whites of their eyes glowed in the darkness of their skin; yellow dirt stained their skin with war paint while their clothes of jeans and dirty t-shirts marked them as workers inside the mine.

  “Put it on the table.” Cut sidestepped, moving out of the way as the men pushed a cart across the cave to the mentioned table.

  I couldn’t look away as they placed random but terrifying things in place. A rubber mallet. A bucket full to the brim with water. A square shallow container. A ziplock bag with black pouches which I assumed were diamonds. A packet of something with medical jargon on the front, scissors, gauze, and lastly a small stick.

  What does all of that mean?

  None of it made sense, but my stomach twisted with percolating horror.

  Once the workers had emptied their cart, Cut motioned for them to leave. “That will be all for now.” He followed them to the door and locked it behind them.

  I hated how similar his gait was to Jethro’s. Powerful, no-nonsense, a masculine stride. As much as I loved the son, I would never care for the father.

  Tearing my gaze from Cut, I looked at the cave ceiling. If I died down here, would my soul find its way from the mine and into the heavenly sky? Or would I sink further into the ground toward hell for murdering Daniel?

  A droplet splashed into my eyes, leaving its entourage of teardrops above, balancing precariously until finally giving into gravity’s beckons. The occasional splash on the top of my head and the tiny ding as droplets hit plastic ware and containers added another dimension to the cave-crypt.

  Cut smiled, coming back toward me. “Before we begin, I think my son has slept long enough. Don’t you?”

  My heart hurled itself into my mouth as he stalked toward a large barrel in the corner full of silty water and grabbed a small pail. With liquid sloshing over the sides, he beelined for Jethro. With a savage smile, he tossed it over him.

  Jethro burst into life.

  His mistreated body lurched as he gasped and choked, shaking in his shackles. His face drenched and dripping, his tinsel hair plastering against his head.

  Tears shot to my eyes as his head flopped backward, gulping air as if he’d been drowning forever. His lips parted wide, his eyes squeezed closed as he rallied.

  Watching him come back to life was a miraculous thing. To be so close to death, so inert and broken, and be able to wake up astounded me.

  The cave echoed with sounds of his crippled gasps. His head lolled to the side, fighting the weight to take in his surroundings. His eyes glowed wild and worried, drinking everything in at once.

  I didn’t need to suffer his condition to understand his thoughts. He saw the cave, his father, and then me.

  Me bound to a chair with the saddest smile on my lips.

  He shattered internally and I heard every smash.

  His shoulders flopped further, his soul slipping deeper into a grave. He couldn’t move thanks to the rope, but even if he was free, his weakness at hurting kept him tethered.

  “It’s okay…” I murmured, fighting tears. “It’s alright.”

  Nothing is alright.

  Nothing went to plan.

  We never got free.

  His own eyes glassed with longing and fury. Apologies and unconditional love blared toward me before slipping into hateful rage at his father. The longer he was conscious, the stronger he became. His back straightened, forcing energy to keep him tall rather than slouched.

  He coughed again, convulsing with heavy chokes.

  My body begged to go to him, to help him breathe. At the very least
, to brush aside his dripping hair and dry his face.

  Cut didn’t do a thing, letting his son fight through the pressure of pain.

  Jethro’s chin landed on his sternum as he did his best to calm his wheezing and gather a nourishing breath. Finally, he swallowed and glared at Cut beneath his brow. His eyes sparkled with tears from suffocating, but his temper snarled with peril. “Le—let her g—go.”

  Cut clasped his hands in front of him, letting the pail fall to his feet. “Suddenly, you’re in the position to give me orders?”

  Jethro groaned and spat on the floor, clearing his mouth from filth and water. “I’ll do what—whatever you…want.” His voice resembled sandpaper on a skill saw. “Just le—leave her out…of this.”

  The irony. I’d said exactly the same thing.

  Wasn’t that true love? The conviction of self-sacrifice in the face of your loved one’s agony? It was the greatest selfless act anyone could do.

  “I have a better idea.” Cut snatched my face, imprisoning it in nasty fingers. Looking at Jethro, he squeezed me until I flinched with pain. “Instead of letting her go, I’m going to have some fun.”

  Jethro groaned, still breathless and gasping. “Please…do whatever you want t—to me but forget the de—debts. Forget whatever it is you th—think she’s done. Just let her go…Father.” His voice slowly smoothed, pronouncing words more clearly.

  Cut paused at the term of endearment. “Do you hear that, Nila? He wants me to be a better man and hurt him instead of you. What do you think?”

  I swallowed, wincing in his hold. “I think you should let him go. He’s suffered enough. Let him leave and I’ll stay in his place.”

  Jethro spasmed in his ropes. “No!”

  Cut let me go. “You’re both as stupid as the other. Seeing as you refuse to save your own skin and prefer to be fucking martyrs, the only course of action is for me to oblige you.”

  Stalking around my chair, he sawed through the rope holding me against the wooden seat and hoisted me to my feet. I swayed with wobbliness but blinked it back. The incurable illness had been my gaolers, my prison guards for too long. I refused to be weak while Cut destroyed me piece by piece.

  “Let her leave.” Jethro’s gaze bounced between Cut and me. He smothered a cough, his face blazing. “Nila, run.”

  My wrists remained bound but being free from the hard wood granted a false sense of freedom.

  Cut clucked his tongue. “She’s not running anywhere. Are you, Nila?” Capturing my elbow, he dragged me to the centre of the cave. “Stand there.”

  “For fuck’s sake—” Jethro’s words tore short in a vicious cough. “Le—let her go!” He fought the rope around him. The chair legs wobbled, creaking with pressure. “Stop. Nila…don’t be an idiot.”

  It hurt so much watching him struggle to protect me when he hurt himself so much.

  “Leave, Nila. He doesn’t care about you and the debts. Not now I’m here to take his anger out on.” His eyes glowed golden and sad. “Please, you ha—have to let me save you.”

  Tears tracked silently down my cheeks. I wanted to give him what he wanted. I wished I was able to turn my back on him and value my life above his.

  But I’d done that with my hated enemy, and I’d almost buckled under the right and wrong of taking his life.

  I wouldn’t survive if I sentenced Jethro to death when I had a small chance of preventing it.

  “I’m sorry, Kite.” I dropped my eyes, unable to look at him. “While you’re here, so am I. I’m not leaving you.”

  Cut slung his arm over my hunched shoulders. “It’s too depressing in here. It’s time for some fun.”

  I shuddered.

  “Let. Her. Go!” Jethro’s voice vibrated against the cave walls, threatening an avalanche of dirt. A cascade of soil kissed the top of our heads, a verbal earthquake.

  Cut growled, letting me go to prowl behind Jethro’s chair. “She’s been a part of this since the day she was born, Jet. The sooner you understand that she will pay the Final Debt and there’s nothing you can do about it, the easier your life will be.”

  Jethro stiffened, his nostrils flaring with the urge to fight. “What do you mean, my life? I thought I was dead.”

  Cut bowed over his son, wrapping his arms around his shoulders in a sinister hug. “I mean, I’ve re-evaluated my decision to kill you. Haven’t you found it strange you’re alive and not currently being gnawed on by hyenas?”

  I bit my lip.

  His hypothesis was eerily close to what’d happened to his third-born son.

  Three boys.

  Three heirs.

  All gone in different ways.

  Only one actually killed.

  It was the perfect murder.

  And I got away with it.

  Jethro shivered with disgust. “Stop with your games. Spit it out.”

  “Fine.” Cut pulled out a dirty rag and duct tape from his pocket. “I mean I’m not going to kill you.”

  I sucked in a gasp. Thank God! Had he decided to reinstate Jethro as his heir, after all? Had I got through to him in some small way?

  You don’t believe that.

  The tiny voice undermined my hope, tainting everything with sloth-like anticipation.

  With measured motions, Cut held Jethro’s cheeks and unceremoniously stuffed the rag into his mouth. Jethro thrashed, shouting around the material. His nostrils flared, fighting once more for hard to earn oxygen.

  Cut didn’t stop. His fingers manhandled his son until he’d forced the gag into Jethro’s mouth. Once done, he roughly stuck duct tape over his lips sealing his mouth and gluing to five o’ clock stubbled cheeks.

  Jethro twisted and squirmed, searching for a way free. But it didn’t stop the inevitable. He was silenced, bound…stuck.

  “I mean I’m going to grant you a long life, son. After what happens today, after watching what I do to the girl you’ve fallen in love with, your fate will be worse than death.”

  Patting Jethro’s cheek, he moved toward me. “Much, much worse.”

  “Don’t come near me.” I backed away, eyeing up the door to run. Even if I did manage to flee, I couldn’t open the door with my wrists tied. And I couldn’t fight countless workers scurrying around the mine like mice.

  “I’m going to do more than that, Nila.” Cut caught me, dragging me close. “Remember the dice throw back at Hawksridge?”

  I gulped.

  Heretic’s fork.

  Vaughn.

  Kissing Daniel.

  I knew, but I played stupid. “I have no idea—”

  “Yes, you do.” He stroked my arms with threatening fingers. “You rolled the dice and I claimed the roll was to be paid once we got to Almasi Kipanga.” His voice dropped to a deep baritone. “Well, we’re at Almasi Kipanga. And if you refuse, your brother, Vaughn, will be hurt. It doesn’t matter that we aren’t in the same country. All it takes is one little phone call.”

  I hated him.

  I threw myself sideways in his hold, trying to get free. “No!”

  Cut didn’t let me go, giving me enough leeway to tire myself out but not run. His voice lowered with mirth. “Not only will your brother pay for your refusal but Jethro will, too.”

  He paused, letting the warning sink into my blood.

  Jethro growled, gagged and furious. His bleeding body twisted and jerked in his ropes.

  I tore my eyes away. I couldn’t look at him. “What—what do you want?”

  “I’m going to give you a history lesson, then take what you owe me from the dice game. The Third Debt might once again be elusive, but I have a better idea.” Cut’s eyes flashed. “Once I’ve taken my fill, you’ll pay the remainder of the Fourth Debt…the Fifth Debt as it were.”

  Moving me so I stood directly in front of Jethro, Cut murmured, “And my son will watch it all. He’ll remain alive, but his soul will die knowing he couldn’t help you. And then, once I’ve taken what I’m going to take and done to you what needs to be done
, he’s going to continue living with that agony eating him away day after day. I’m going to leave him here, alive, knowing he can’t stop me from carrying out the Final Debt. That I’ll fulfil the prophecy because he was too much of a chickenshit to do it. And he’ll live with your death forever.”

  Kissing my cheek, he sighed. “That is what I want from you, Ms. Weaver.”

  It wasn’t a happy sigh or even satisfied he’d won—more like a weary, ancient sigh speaking of a man who showed nothing but violence. “My son loves you, Nila, and not a day will go by he won’t remember this cave or your death. That is your legacy to him.”

  Wrapping his arms around me, he whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll give you time to say goodbye.”

  Pulling back, he smiled at Jethro. “Now we all know what to expect, let’s begin.”

  I’D LOVED HER for months.

  Yet it seemed like my entire life.

  I’d fallen for her as an adult.

  Yet she’d intrigued me as a child.

  She’d been born for me.

  I’d been born for her.

  We were linked. Joined by fate and history and destiny. Star-crossed, doomed from the start, absolutely forbidden lovers.

  Bound and gagged and utterly fucking helpless, I faced the truth head-on. I’d entertained fantasies of living a normal life. Creating my own family, putting an end to grief and wretched revenge.

  But I think I’d always known that no matter what we did, no matter how hard we fought, no matter what we sacrificed, there would be no other ending than the one signed in blood by my ancestors.

  I’d said I’d loved her.

  I’d proved I’d loved her.

  I’d vowed to love her forever.

  But the Debt Inheritance was too strong.

  It wanted what it’d been given time and time again. Fate marched us faster and faster, stealing everything we’d promised.

  Not many people had lived in hell. Not just visited for a while, but actually slept and ate and breathed there. As I watched my father manhandle my woman, the girl I wanted to marry, I set up home in hell. I breathed its sulphur air. I ate its brimstone hate. And I gave my soul over to the devil because what good was righteousness when only evil prevailed?