Final Debt

by Pepper Winters

  Pacing away, he gathered his temper. His boots scuffed the earthen floor.

  My eyes immediately latched with Nila’s. Now Cut’s body didn’t block hers, I shot as much love and pride that I could.

  I’m so fucking in love with you.

  She smiled sadly. I know.

  We’ll get through this.

  Her body folded with depression. Her eyes didn’t return a response.

  Cut moved behind Nila, folding his arms around her in a rotting embrace. Locking eyes with me, he whispered in Nila’s ear.

  I couldn’t hear, but the change in Nila faded her heartbeat by heartbeat.

  Christ, I wanted to stop this. Hadn’t he done enough?

  My tongue pulsed against the gag, doing my best to curse and yell.

  Her spine rolled, her cheeks whitened, her hands opened and closed by her sides. When Cut finished whispering, she bit her lip and shook her head.

  He murmured again, his breath disturbing her short hair.

  Once again, she shook her head, gritting her jaw against the sudden sickness rolling from her. Not sick from a malady but sick to the stomach with hate and disgust.

  What did he say to her?

  What happened at Hawksridge with the dice?

  Cut whispered harder, his voice hissing like a snake. Again words were non-existent but his tone was insistent. He pointed a finger at me, his lips forming rapid threats.

  Don’t listen to him.

  Whatever he does to me, I’ll take it.

  If it means you’re safe, I’ll do anything.

  Nila looked up, her dusky skin as white as the clouds far, far above us. She studied me. Decisions fluttered then shredded. Conclusions formed then discarded with revulsion.

  I sensed her battle but wanted to howl when she finally nodded.

  Don’t…don’t…

  Whatever it is…don’t.

  “Fine.”

  Cut smiled. “Good girl.”

  My eyes bugged as Nila willingly spun in Cut’s embrace, facing him in the cage of his embrace. Her back blocked what her hands did, but the muscles in her spine rippled beneath her clothing.

  My stomach knotted as she sucked in a breath; her hands moved to Cut’s belt.

  No. Fuck, no.

  I tripled my efforts, my head roaring, my ribs screaming.

  I growled and grunted and groaned. I sounded like a wild beast fighting for its life.

  No!

  Her elbows moved as her fingers flew over his belt and fly, undoing both effortlessly. I hated her skills with zippers and buttons. I hated her gorgeous hands and strong fingers and how they disappeared into Cut’s trousers.

  My voice garbled around the gag, swearing in every dialect as Nila swallowed a moan and touched my father where she should never have to touch.

  Cut’s eyes darkened as her hand wrapped around him.

  My gut clenched, appalled and outraged he’d forced her to do something so wrong.

  “Good girl,” he murmured as her hand worked up and down. I didn’t need to see what happened to have foul images splash across my mind. She touched him. She fucking stroked my father’s cock.

  The chair creaked and splintered as I shook—fighting, fighting against the ropes.

  Nila stiffened as Cut whispered loud enough for me to hear. “That’s it. Make me hard. The drugs from last night might’ve left your system, but I’ll make you scream while you pay my part of the Third Debt.”

  Fuck, he was going to rape her in front of me?

  He was going to emasculate me and kill me all over again by stripping Nila of her rights as a woman.

  I won’t.

  She can’t.

  Throwing myself to the side, the chair legs buckled. Gravity latched on, slamming me sideways to the floor. Pain radiated through my shoulder, but I didn’t care. My feet kicked, trying to unravel the rope from around my ankles. I stretched, slowly inching the twine down the chair legs.

  I gave everything I had.

  I ignored the splitting headache. I forced bruised muscles to gather power beyond normal limits. I turned rogue as Nila continued to stroke Cut.

  Stop!

  Don’t touch him.

  Cut smiled, wrapping one arm around Nila as she did what he commanded. But his eyes never left mine. They gleamed with triumph. Knowing this would break me worse than any bullet, better than any guillotine.

  Soil smeared against my cheek as I rolled on the floor, doing my best to get free.

  You won’t get away with this, you bastard!

  Flashbacks of Emma, Nila’s mother, being in Cut’s embrace merged with the present. She’d tolerated my father. She’d played him better than he knew. But I’d known all along her true thoughts. I’d felt her repellent dislike for him, even while she smiled affectionately and let Cut believe she was in love with him.

  She’d done what Nila had attempted to do; only Nila fell in love with me. Emma never fell in love with Cut. And that’d only layered to his fundamental issue.

  No one loved him. No one cared.

  People respected and feared him, but it wasn’t the same as being completely devoted through affection. And he knew that.

  Nila cried silently as her hand worked harder. What had he threatened? Why had she agreed to touch him?

  I knew Nila. It wouldn’t have been anything toward her. Her own pain she faced far too easily. No, he would’ve threatened me—even though he’d said I wouldn’t be used in this debt. Bastard. Utter fucking bastard.

  Nila!

  The shout warped unintelligently around the gag as Cut dropped his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled.

  Her shoulders quaked; tears making her tremble and shake.

  I would’ve killed countless innocent people if only I had the power to stand and shove a dagger into Cut’s heart.

  Tears stung my eyes at being so fucking helpless.

  Cut brushed aside Nila’s hair, kissing the diamond collar. “God, that feels good. I hope you’re wet for me, Weaver. Because I can’t take much more of your teasing.”

  Everything changed.

  Nila’s hand ceased stroking. Her shoulders stopped quaking. And the room turned stagnant with possibility.

  “I—I can’t—” Ripping her hand from his trousers, she shoved him hard. “I won’t!”

  Cut wobbled from her push, his legs spread and jeans undone. The shadow of his erection tightened the fabric. His voice was blackness personified. “Think wisely, my dear. Are you sure?”

  Nila nodded, frantically wiping her right hand on her leggings. “I won’t. I won’t grant you pleasure. No matter what you say. I won’t!”

  Storm clouds covered Cut’s face. He lowered his jaw, glaring at her beneath his brow. “Have it your way.” Marching toward her, he grabbed her wrist. “This way, please.”

  Nila looked over her shoulder. Her eyes widened, taking in my change of sitting upright to lying on the floor. Her features contorted with sorrow and guilt. I’m sorry.

  I shook my head, dispelling ancient dust. Never. There’s nothing to be—

  Cut forced her to turn, stealing our private moment.

  Her feet stumbled as he threw her against the table at the perimeter of the room. Yanking out a chair, he shoved her into it. “Sit.”

  She breathed hard, red spots of fear and fury on her cheeks. “Cut...please, whatever you’re about to do—don’t. Please.”

  “You’re getting repetitive, Ms. Weaver.” With an angry swipe, Cut shoved the paraphernalia the mine workers had brought in and cleared a spot on the dirty table.

  His hands shook as he rearranged his cock and zipped his jeans. His belt buckle clanked as he fumbled to do it up. “You could’ve paid the Third Debt without pain. I wouldn’t have hurt you. I would’ve even granted you pleasure.”

  Nila spat on the floor. “Pleasure? Rape would never be pleasure. Your touch is grotesque.”

  I sucked in useless air through my nose. Her strength astounded me but also pissed me o
ff. Answering back would only deliver worse things. As much as it would’ve butchered me to witness the love of my life submit to my father, watching this…whatever this was…would be worse.

  At least Nila would be intact.

  You don’t believe that.

  Her strength came from answering back and standing up for herself. If she let Cut willingly strip her of sexual rights and permit him to take her…I doubt her mind would remain so rebellious and untouchable.

  Christ, I’m so sorry, Nila.

  I wriggled on the floor, trying to get closer, doing my best to get free. Every inch of my body worked against me, slowly draining with every sordid breath.

  Cut panted hard as he brushed back his hair, centring himself. “Give me your arm.”

  Nila froze. “What? No? I won’t touch you again.”

  “I didn’t ask for your hand, Nila. I asked for your arm.”

  She slowly shook her head, crossing her arms defiantly. “You ask and I deny. No, you may not have my arm.”

  “You’re wrong. I didn’t ask to begin with. I said give.” Cut’s anger rose to the surface. I was surprised he’d let Nila’s outbursts last as long as he had. No matter how he would deny it, Cut had feelings for Nila. Feelings he still nursed for her mother. He wanted her. He wanted to keep her. But it fucking killed him that the daughter fell in love with his son when the mother cursed him to hell the day he took her life.

  He’d given her a choice…

  My mind skipped back to the private conversation I hadn’t meant to overhear. A week before the Final Debt with Emma, Cut had admitted to his Weaver prisoner he loved her too much to kill her. He wanted more from her. More time. More togetherness. He was willing to hold off the Final Debt indefinitely if she agreed to be his completely.

  Marry him.

  Submit to him whenever he desired.

  His one condition for her life—she was forbidden from seeing Tex or her children ever again.

  It was a testament of Emma’s love for her family and husband that she turned him down and chose death instead.

  “For fuck’s sake, give me your bloody arm.” Cut lashed out; snatching Nila’s arms and breaking the hold she’d formed. She struggled but was no match for Cut’s strength.

  Slamming her forearm on the table, he growled, “Did you listen to the part of the story about smuggling diamonds?”

  Nila wriggled in Cut’s possession, doing her best to take her imprisoned arm back. “Yes. I listened.”

  “In that case, you’ll understand what the rest of the Fourth Debt entails.”

  She stopped breathing. “No…I don’t…”

  He chuckled, fighting her tugging, keeping her arm against the table. “Yes, you do.” Holding her down with one hand, he reached to the side with the other. Plucking a narrow stick from its resting place, he pressed it against her mouth. “Open wide.”

  Her face arched away from the offer. “What? No.”

  Cut pinched her arm. The shock stole her attention, parting her lips. Taking advantage, he slipped the stick inside her mouth so the ends stuck out either side of her cheeks. She looked as if she’d been bridled.

  Turning her head to spit it out, Cut held the stick in place. “Ah, ah, ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  Her eyes glared daggers.

  “Bite down.” Cut slowly removed his hand, daring her to dispel it.

  Nila paused, the stick remaining lodged in her teeth. Her eyebrow rose with questions as Cut slowly picked up a black rubber mallet. A type of mallet used for hitting unwilling pieces of timber or coaxing nails into holes. A hammer that would bring untold pain.

  She sucked in air around the stick, her struggles renewing. “No!” Her voice wavered around the obstruction.

  “I told you, bite down.” His fingers latched tighter around the mallet. “This will hurt.”

  No!

  My heart lurched as I twisted and bucked. “Stwrop!” I despised not being able to move, to talk, to shout, to help. “Nwoooo!”

  Nila.

  Fuck, I’m so sorry.

  “What—what’s—” Nila couldn’t tear her eyes away from the mallet. Her entire body went on lockdown. “Cut…don’t.” The stick remained in her teeth, her tongue forming words with care.

  His eyes glinted. “When William’s reputation of priceless diamonds made its way around the city, more and more people tried to rob him. Opportunists and pirates all wanted a piece of his good fortune even when he’d paid so much for it. Thieves. Cheapskates. They all deserved to hang.”

  Nila whimpered, fighting his hold as Cut braced his legs, preparing to deliver the Fourth Debt.

  My heart bucked, smashing against bruised ribs, leaping into the throbs inside my head. From my angle on the floor, the world tilted sideways, my mind straining to stay with her, to find a way free.

  “William constantly had to come up with new ways to smuggle his cargo into the country. He started with the obvious: the orifices of his men. The switch and ruse. The fake packaging ploy. But after time, each one would fail as word got out of the latest scam.

  “Even in the last few decades, we suffered our own setbacks. Our smuggling mules would swallow the diamonds or wrap small quantities around their stomach and legs, and fly in sweating guilt and terror—guaranteed to have the shipment ceased upon arrival. Or they’d shove them in arseholes and pussies but that’s become too widely used by drug traffickers and with tighter border security, not practical. So…we came up with a new plan.”

  His voice thickened. “Know how we solved this problem?”

  Nila shook her head, black hair sticking to sweaty cheeks, tears cascading in streams.

  “Sewing into flesh.”

  She sucked in a horrified breath, the air whistling around her stick.

  Cut frowned. “The sewing was rather barbaric and didn’t have such satisfactory results. A doctor would cut a mule in the least invasive place, insert a few packets of diamonds, and sew them back up. Once the traveller arrived at their destination, the wound was reopened, diamonds removed, and their sum paid. However, the risk of infection and hospitalisation was too high.

  “So…we came up with a better idea.”

  He twisted his wrist, dragging Nila’s attention back to the black mallet in his fist. “We don’t cut anymore, we break. We offer legitimate disabilities while using the fracture as the perfect alibi.” He grinned. “Understand what I’m saying, Nila?”

  Shit.

  I gave everything I had left. My wrists soaked with blood as I fought the rope. My back splintered with every wriggle. I couldn’t watch. I couldn’t prevent what Cut would do. I couldn’t do a thing as he broke her and dressed her in diamonds.

  I yelled profanity, choking on the gag. I wanted to talk to her. Comfort her. I didn’t want to fail her all over again.

  Shock electrocuted her system. She spat out the stick even though she’d need it to ride the upcoming pain. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m deadly serious.” Cut’s smile twisted his face into horror. “You had the choice to make me hard and deliver pleasure with your right hand. You had my cock in your fingers, your future in your grasp, yet you threw it in my fucking face. Well, your right arm will pay, Nila. It now has a different task.”

  Nila fought harder, scratching at Cut’s hold with her free hand. “No, let me go. Let me—”

  “You really should’ve bit down like I told you. Too late now.” Cut didn’t soften, raising the mallet above his head. “Do you repent? Do you take ownership of your family’s sins and agree to pay the debt?”

  “No! Hell no!”

  “Wrong answer.” Cut prepared to strike.

  “No. Wait!”

  His jaw clenched.

  “Stop, please!”

  “With or without your ownership, I won’t stop.”

  His gaze glowed.

  His arm sailed down.

  The mallet became a black boulder of agony.

  “This is going to
hurt.”

  THE MALLET SOARED downward.

  No!

  The whistle of wind heralded imminent agony.

  Please!

  The small cry was my soul escaping.

  Don’t!

  The silent scream from Jethro was my undoing.

  * * *

  The crack of impact.

  Pain.

  The loud splinter of skeleton giving way.

  Torture.

  The wave of sickness as mallet defeated bone.

  Torment.

  The cloud of unconsciousness that numbed everything.

  * * *

  The room spun and tilted.

  I’m crippled.

  The agony swelled and crested.

  I’m mutilated.

  The mallet left my burning broken bone, resting innocuously beside my wrist like a fallen executioner.

  I’m in pieces.

  I’m in splinters.

  I’m broken.

  I threw up.

  * * *

  There were two worlds.

  The one where I’d existed only moments ago—intact, whole, afraid but complete.

  And now, this new one. The one where I shook with excruciating pain…was in pieces…destroyed.

  A delayed scream fell from my lips as I cradled my shattered forearm.

  I screamed

  and screamed

  and screamed.

  It hurt.

  God, how it hurt.

  I’d broken pieces of myself in the past. How could I not living a life with vertigo? But I’d never felt it coming. Never seen the pain unfolding. Never heard the agony delivered.

  I moaned, battling wave after wave of deep throbbing pain.

  Please…make it stop!

  Gentle arms cradled me, embracing me, fingers wiping tears from my cheeks. “Told you it would hurt,” Cut murmured.

  I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t breathe around him. I couldn’t stay alive in a world where he existed.

  No!

  Shying away from his touch, I bit my lip hard enough to bleed. My intact fingers wrapped around my broken arm, soothing the burn, wanting to erase the damage. The flesh turned red and swollen, bloating with pain. It wasn’t disfigured or deformed but the hot swell hinted he’d done the damage he’d intended.