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I FOLLOWED HIS every footstep.
Down corridors where I’d played as a little boy, through rooms I’d investigated, and past hidey holes where I’d played hide-and-seek with my brothers and sister.
The house held so many memories. Past centuries lived in its walls with births and deaths, triumphs and tragedies. I was just a speck in history, about to be obliterated.
My heartbeat resembled an inmate on death row as we made our way through the kitchen toward the cellar. The ancient door leading beneath the Hall was hidden in the walk-in pantry.
Hundreds of years ago, the cellar stored barrels of beer and freshly slaughtered meat. Now abandoned, it housed a few lonely wine racks and cases of expensive cognac resting beneath blankets of dust.
We descended the earthen steps and traded the dry warmth of the Hall for the damp chill of the catacombs.
A cool draft kissed our skin as vapours rose from exposed earth. My black jeans and t-shirt clung to my skin, growing heavy with mildew.
Cut didn’t stop.
We made our way from the food storage area to a locked metal gate. The staff weren’t permitted past this point. Secrets were stored down here. Deep, dark, dangerous secrets that only Hawks could know.
Electric lights flickered like candles as Cut unlocked the rusty mechanism and guided me onward. The screech of the hinges sounded like a skeleton dragging its bony fingers down the claustrophobic walls.
Just like the natural springs where I’d revived Nila, this warren system of circular tunnels and crudely hacked pathways was found by accident while renovating Hawksridge.
Why did previous generations toil so hard in pitch dark and dripping ice?
To build a crypt.
Weavers were buried on the chase, exposed to whipping winds and snow; my ancestors were entombed below the feet of the living, howling their laments and haunting the hallways of their old home.
It was morbid. Depressing. And I despised it down here. The stench of rotting corpses and tentacles of ghosts lurked around shadowy corners.
“Where are we—”
“Silence,” Cut hissed. His voice echoed around the cylindrical chambers.
My sluggish beat turned frantic as Cut continued onward, leaving the crypt behind and stepping foot into the one place I’d avoided all my life.
The memory came thick and fast.
“Wait up!”
Kes charged ahead, hurtling down the cellar steps and disappearing into the dark underground pathways beneath the house. These tunnels went to all areas of the estate—to the stables, Black Diamond garage, even the old silos where grain was stored back in the day.
It was also dark, damp, and rat infested.
We had no torches, no jumpers. Being a hot summer’s day, we’d been searching for spots of shades, only to end up getting bored and playing tag.
“Come on, scaredy cat,” Kes taunted.
I couldn’t see him in the inky blackness, but I kept running with my hands outstretched just in case I ran into something.
I came to an intersection and narrowly missed ploughing headfirst into dirt. Fumbling along the wall, my heart flew into my mouth. The wall surrounded me...three sides, soaring higher and tighter as claustrophobia kicked in.
The clank of heavy metal suddenly rang deep and piercing behind me.
“Kes?”
“We’ll play dungeons and guards. You’re the prisoner.” Kes laughed as he rattled the bars he’d just slammed over the entranceway I’d stupidly entered.
It was so black.
I couldn’t see a thing. But I could hear everything. My breathing. My heartbeat. My terror. So, so loud.
“What do you have to say for yourself, prisoner? Do you plead guilty?” Kes asked, his eight-year-old voice deepening with fake authority.
I moved toward his location, arms outstretched until I found the cold iron bars. “Let me out, Angus.”
“Don’t use that name.”
“I’ll use whatever name I want unless you get me out of here.” My body itched for fresh air, light, freedom. It felt as if the walls were crumbling, folding in, and burying me alive. “Not funny. Let me out.”
“Okay, okay. Jeez.” He yanked on the bars. The awful clanging noise jangled around us.
I pressed from my side of the cell.
Nothing happened.
“Err, it’s locked.”
“What do you mean it’s locked?” My soul scratched at my bones needing freedom. “Find a key—get me out!”
“Stay here. I’ll go get help.”
Kes’s body heat and the sound of his breathing suddenly disappeared, leaving me all alone in the pitch black, locked in a prison cell where men had been tortured and died.
I shuddered, breaking the memory’s hold.
Since that day, I’d never returned. Kes had dragged our grandfather to free me, and after he’d unlocked the cell, he’d forbidden us from returning to the dungeons past the crypts.
I’d readily obeyed. Never again did I want to step foot in a place still reeking with ancient pain and suffering.
But now my father carted me to the same place, only this time there was light illuminating the deep scratches on the walls from people burrowing for freedom and messages to loved ones who’d never see them.
It took all my strength to follow him around bends and duck where the ceiling hung too low. Scurries of vermin echoed up ahead, and it took everything I had not to break my father’s neck and run.
Was I weak not wanting to kill my father? Was I a pussy or justified for being a loyal son? He’d given me life...wasn’t it fair he could take it away?
My rationality couldn’t temper my panic. My nostrils flared, inhaling damp air.
“Get in, Jethro.” Cut came to a stop, waving at the same cell where Kes had accidently imprisoned me for two hours while our grandfather located the key.
The electric sconces glinted off new bars—not the thick, rusty ones of my childhood. My eyes fell to the lock—that was also modern with a number pad rather than an old-fashioned key.
I stepped backward. “You want me to go in there?”
Cut nodded, waving the gun threateningly. “In.”
“Why?”
“No questions.” He cocked the weapon, sliding a bullet into place.
Swallowing hard, I brushed past him and entered the cell. There was no bed, no facilities, no comfort of any kind. Just earth and mould and puddles.
I turned to face him. Why the hell had he brought me down here? To feed my deceased body to the rats? Or perhaps he meant to starve me to death and not waste a bullet?
Cut stood in the doorway, pointing the gun at my chest.
I sucked in a breath, fisting my hands. “Why bother bringing me here? No one would’ve heard the shot upstairs—not with so many rooms—and even if they did, no one would interfere.” We all knew our place—Hawks and servants included. “I would’ve appreciated my last view to be of something enjoyable rather than this godforsaken place.”
Cut narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think I want this over so quickly?”
I froze.
Footsteps echoed like doomsday percussion off the tunnel walls.
My heart beat faster. “Who else will witness this?” It wasn’t Jasmine, that I could be sure—unless someone carried her.
Fuck, would he be that cruel? To make her watch me die after everything we’d done to her?
My mind ran wild with questions and regrets. There was so much I never did, so much I wanted to do.
Now, it was all over.
“What makes you think they’re a witness?” Cut’s cold voice sent shackles of numbness around my limbs.
Staring into the shadows, out of range of the light, we both waited for the mystery guest to arrive.
The moment a figure materialized from the gloom and golden eyes met mine, I bared my teeth. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Daniel snickered, moving to take his place beside Cut. Equal breadth and height, they matched in their leather jackets and complementing smirks.
“I’m here to teach you a lesson, brother.”
Fuck. All the tormenting and lording my firstborn status came back to haunt me. This was my true punishment. Not being shot or maimed but being disciplined by my fucking brother.
My gut churned. I had to will every cell to stay upright and stoic. In my mind, I conjured Nila. She possessed my thoughts—not in the everyday attire she’d worn around the Hall—but in the black feathered couture from Milan. Her skin was faultless. Her ebony eyes depthless. She’d been utterly perfect.
Then I’d stolen her. Degraded her. Fucked her. And ultimately loved her.
I pushed her image away as fast as I’d invoked it. It hurt too much.
“I don’t understand you, Jethro.” Cut entered the cell, his boot scuffing a pebble. “You were so close to throwing away, not just a fortune, but sentencing your sister to the grave as well as yourself.”
My blood turned from liquid to rock. “Leave her out of this.”
“You’re saying you believe Jasmine doesn’t deserve repentance? After all, it was she who convinced me you could be fixed. She’s the one who gave her livelihood for yours that day...or have you forgotten?”
I breathed shallowly. “I haven’t forgotten, and it’s not her fault. Don’t fucking touch her.”
“Oh, we won’t touch her...if you do everything we say.” Daniel brushed past Cut, encroaching on my space. His aftershave of spice and musk overpowered me. My gullet fought to retch—to vomit right on his shiny black boots.
I glowered. Everything about this felt wrong. As if we were boys again playing games we didn’t understand. “What do you want?”
Cut chuckled. “Isn’t it obvious, Jet? I want a firstborn I can trust. I want a man who will oversee my empire. I want an heir who isn’t some sort of fucked-up delinquent.”
I straightened my spine. “Life is full of disappointment.”
“Yes, but at least I can get some enjoyment out of this.” Looking at Daniel, he nodded. “You’re up, Buzzard. Teach him a lesson.”
My eyes flashed to Daniel’s. I kept my expression blank. I refused to beg for mercy or let him see the fear percolating inside.
Daniel smiled, cracking his knuckles and slinking out of his jacket. “Hear that, Kite? Time for a little payback. And I have to say, it’s gonna taste fucking sweet.”
Tossing his jacket into the corner of the cell, he clenched his fists and danced like a seasoned fighter. I instinctually raised my arms, preparing to spar. Daniel was third born—the mistake—he was also the smallest out of all of us, but he was still strong. Plus, he had something I was missing: savagery with no mercy.
“Ah, ah, ah, Jethro.” Cut tapped the gun against the bars, sending a god-awful twang around the cell. “You aren’t to fight back.”
I snarled, “You expect me to let him pummel me and not defend myself?”
Daniel laughed, circling me like some rabid hyena.
“I have a deal to offer you, Jethro.” Cut’s words fell like stones. Everything had new meaning. That ridiculous hope swelled in my heart again.
“What deal?”
“Last chance,” Daniel sneered, never stopping his aggravating circles.
Cut ran a hand through his hair. “I was fully prepared to kill you, son. Ready to put you out of your misery because—let’s face it—you’re not happy.” Sympathy coated his features, confusing the shit out of me.
“You’re saying you were prepared to put me down like some rabies-infested dog? For my sake?”
Cut frowned. “After everything that’s happened between us, you still think I’m some kind of monster. I care for you. I care for all my children.”
Bullshit.
“It’s only natural that I want to help you.”
Crossing my arms, I tried to ignore Daniel and understand this new development. “What do you propose?”
“It comes in stages.”
“Go on.”
“First, you need punishing. I won’t tolerate any more disobedience.” Toying with the gun, his eyes bored into mine. “Part one of this new deal is...”
“Let me beat your ass with no retaliation.” Daniel laughed, socking a punch into my kidney from behind.
White-hot heat scorched my system, setting fire to every organ. I gasped, holding the throbbing bruise. Sickly sweat sprang over my skin. I sucked air between my teeth. “You can’t be serious.”
Cut’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I’m more than serious. Fight back or try to harm your brother, and I’ll put a bullet through your skull with no hesitation.”
Daniel threw another punch, right into my intestines. A grunt escaped as I staggered forward, bending over to spit on the slimy floor. Only once I’d straightened, trembling with adrenaline, did Cut grant me the next part of his rehabilitation. “When you’ve accepted a thrashing to what I deem payable, then I’ll tell you the next part of the deal.”
Coming forward, he pressed the gun under my chin, holding my eyes on his. “You say you hurt. That life is a constant hardship. Well, I have news for you. It’s not enough for me that your innards hurt. I want your body to scream, too. It’s fitting and a worthwhile punishment for the son of a nobleman.”
Transcriptions of such punishments executed hundreds of years ago came to mind. Aristocrats dealt in different conduct when a crime had to be paid. Fists were a gentleman’s weapon rather than stocks or floggers.
Daniel’s fist collided with my jaw, snapping my head sideways. I groaned as my equilibrium turned to shit. I stumbled sideways, fighting every instinct to defend myself.
Cut stepped back as Daniel round-housed me, planting his boot squarely in my chest. With flaring pain, I tumbled to the earthen floor. Fuck, it hurt. Every inch of me was on fire—pounding with agony.
“Take your sentence like a man, Jethro. Then we’ll see if you deserve my proposition.”
I scrambled to my feet.
Daniel cackled as he kicked my ankle, sending me face-planting into dirt. I braced myself on all fours, presenting a soft target of my belly in line with his boot.
He kicked me like a fucking animal, breaking a rib and hurtling me into Hades.
I would’ve given anything to fight back. I howled inside—handcuffed by the illusion of leniency. I took each blow, not for my downfall of being what I was, but for what I’d done.
Every strike was my penance for what I did to Nila.
Each kick was a purging for my disastrous behaviour.
I nursed Nila in my heart and found a strange healing, even in such unjust brutality.
My eyes watered as Daniel yanked my hair and cracked his knuckles against my cheekbone.
Cut muttered, “I want you bleeding in apology, son. Only then might you deserve another chance.”
