Jethro

“JETHRO.”

I looked up from a small pile of diamonds on my desk and brushed overgrown hair from my eyes. My father stood in the doorway to my study; his stance was relaxed and open, a camaraderie between us evident after the past few weeks of my impeccable behaviour.

Placing the loupe onto a velvet case in front of me, I smiled. “Need something?”

Cut cocked his head toward the corridor. “Only a word. We’ve all been busy with preparations this last week. I think a debrief is in order, don’t you?”

My mind prodded at the plans we’d made. The strict timeline when Nila would be ours again. The retaliation we’d lined up to dismiss the fading interest in my family’s name. Vaughn was losing power as each day passed. Social media was a feral beast baying for blood, but it was short-lived, quickly moving onto juicier gossip.

The longer we waited, the less power the Weavers had. We’d also fortified our alliances with the local police, who ensured they would stay out of our way this time—otherwise...well, they knew what would fucking happen.

Scooping the diamonds into a soft pouch and storing them in my top drawer, I didn’t worry that there were over three hundred thousand pounds worth of stones amongst ballpoint and fountain pens.

Strolling over to Cut, I tapped my pocket to make sure I had my vial of friends with me. The comforting rattle sounded, and with another smile, my father and I walked side by side through the bachelor wing, up the stone staircase, and to his office on the second floor.

My eyes flickered to Jasmine’s door. I hadn’t seen my sister again. I didn’t like being estranged from her, but I was above silly dramatics now. I had no feelings to spare. It was her problem not mine. I wouldn’t dwell on it.

The moment we were locked and secluded in his chambers, he motioned to his private stash of rare Rémy Martin cognac. “Please, help yourself to a drink.”

“Want one?” I asked, moving to the small bar and uncorking the decanter. My mouth watered as a generous amount splashed into a crystal goblet.

Cut sat in his favourite black chair and placed his feet on the coffee table housing the bleached bones of Wrathbone, his dog. My fingers twitched around the bottle as I remembered the last time Nila had been in here. We’d done the Tally; I’d inked my initials onto her body.

“Please.” Cut relaxed into the leather. Our dealings with one another had become highly civilized—businessman to businessman rather than delinquent son and disappointed father. “Untether him for me, too, will you?”

Depositing my drink on the coffee table, I prowled to the window and the beautiful bird perched on its stand. “Hello, Finch.” I stroked the breast of Cut’s pet hawk.

The bird preened under my attention. Its autumn feathers glinted in the waning sunlight, and its beady eyes remained hidden beneath its blinding cap. A horrible life really—to spend so many waking hours in the dark.

The silkiness of Finch’s feathers sent me into a trance. It was funny to think that all three of Bryan Hawk’s sons had bird of prey names, yet he never used his. Being the president of the Black Diamonds meant he used his brotherhood name. However, his nickname had always scared me as a boy. I could imagine him stripping the bones of his enemy’s carcass, just like his namesake: the Vulture. Bryan ‘Vulture’ Hawk. It was apt.

“Free him,” Cut ordered.

Tugging on the little tie, I released the blinding cap and Finch immediately traded quiet stroking for violent flapping. The bell around his ankle tinkled as he tried to take off only for the tether to jerk him back.

“Steady, steady,” I murmured, undoing the bow and freeing the bird. Finch had been named after his first kill. He hadn’t gone for the gerbil we’d released onto the lawn. Instead, he soared high and plucked the tiny prey from the sky and ate it in a few strips.

“Finch,” Cut said. “Cast off.” He raised his arm, already wrapped in a supple piece of leather. No one wanted a talon through his or her forearm.

In a rustle of burnished feathers, Finch launched from the perch and soared across the room.

Cut grunted as the weight of the large raptor landed on his arm. He grinned, his lined face looking younger and carefree. Stroking the plumage of his pet, he caught the creance and wrapped the cord around his fist to keep him in place.

Heading to the small refrigerator by the wall, I opened a Tupperware container and brought back a delicacy of raw rabbit liver. Finch instantly hopped and snapped his beak as I handed the meat to Cut. He grabbed a bloody piece and tossed it at the bird.

Sitting down, I sipped my cognac.

For a few minutes, we let Finch entertain us, the occasional bell slicing through the squelch of raw liver. Finally, Cut cast off the hawk and let him navigate the room wherever he wanted.

Toasting his glass to mine, his eyes shadowed.

Finally getting to the point, Father?

Clinking glasses, I settled back, waiting.

“You know I saw everything that happened between you and Nila. I’ve shown you the tapes of you fucking her. The close-ups of your face when extracting the debts. I’ve listed all the times you disobeyed me and went behind my back. You had feelings for her.”

I shrugged. Once upon a time, I might’ve panicked and done everything to deny such a revelation. Now, it didn’t matter. I was above all that.

“All in the past, as you well know.”

Cut nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m bringing this up now. You’ve seen the light, and I think it’s time you know a bit more of the legacy you’re upholding.”

I crossed my legs, nursing my goblet. “Go on.”

“Did you ever stop to think about other Hawks and Weavers who had to pay the debts?”

My forehead furrowed. “No.”

“You never thought others might’ve had the same issues you did?” Nostalgia shaded his face. “I won’t deny I had a soft spot for Emma toward the end. She was nothing like her daughter—not insubordinate or stubborn, but she enticed me all the same.”

My heartbeat kicked just the tiniest bit.

Without disrupting the conversation, I pulled the small bottle free and tipped a tablet into my palm. “I had no idea.” Chasing the pill with a healthy dose of cognac, I added, “I suppose it’s logical for any man and woman to have feelings if they’re forced together long enough.”

Cut stared into his drink. “I suppose.”

He always did this. Always hinted at a topic in a roundabout way, waiting to see if I would trip up and reveal things. It might’ve worked in the past when I had things to hide and nervousness to feel, but now I had nothing.

Blank. Blank. Blank.

My voice was soft. “You did what you were tasked with. Just like I hurt Nila, you hurt Emma.”

His eyes connected with mine. “Exactly. You made her bleed in the First Debt. And I have no doubt you’re capable of carrying this inheritance to its conclusion.”

A few weeks ago, there was no chance in hell I would’ve been able to complete the Final Debt. But things were different now.

My loyalties were to the Hawks. I would do my duty. I would inherit what was mine.

“Of course.”

I would commit murder.

It was what I was born for.

Cut shook his head, almost in awe. “I wish that drug had been around years ago. I’m so happy to have you on my side after all this time. Not to mention, Bonnie is delighted that you no longer harass Jasmine from her studies.”

I smiled, taking another drink. “Yes, we both know it was time for me to grow up.”

Finch suddenly flew overhead; his russet feathers a rainbow of orange, brown, and taupe.

Cut sighed, running a hand through his white hair. “There is one thing I need to bring up, before we can put the past behind us.” His body tightened. “You can probably guess what I’m about to say.”

Could I?

I wracked my brains.

What had he hated about me the most? My inability to obey? My endless problems? Or was it the fact I’d slept with Nila with nothing barred and somehow lost a piece of myself that I would never get back—no matter how numb I was?

“You’ll have to enlighten me. I have no idea what you mean.”

“I must admit, you were beyond stupid. If those pills hadn’t worked, I would’ve put you down for that infraction alone.”

My eyebrow raised. “Oh? This will be interesting. Don’t torture me with suspense—what did I do?”

He grinned. “I’d hoped you would be able to tell me why. Explain in your words what the fuck was going on in your screwed-up mind. But I guess that won’t happen now that your insanity is cured.”

Insanity.

That annoying little word. Out of everything, it still had a smidgen of power over me. I hated that label. All my life, I’d been called insane, broken. My father had sent me away as a young boy to undergo counselling and get psychiatric help. The conclusion came back stating I was demented, mentally unsound.

Every day of my childhood, Cut reminded me of my flaws. I’d come to hate those words. Despise those words.

Cut laughed again, dragging me back to the present. “Can I ask if you did it because you truly didn’t think, or were you more clever than I gave you credit?”

A slight headache began. “I honestly have no idea what you’re getting at.”

What the fuck?

Until I had a guess, I wouldn’t say a word. I’d learned how to hide, and those habits were hard to break.

Cut laughed—a full belly chuckle dancing with pride.

My heart swelled. I’d never get tired of having him be proud of me.

“Your balls are iron, Jet. I’ll give you that. I always hoped having your own pet Weaver would fix you.” Leaning forward, he clasped my knee. “I like this man before me. I’m honoured to call him my son.”

Shit...wow.

Clearing my throat, I raised my glass to him. “Appreciate that, Father. More than you know.”

Reclining back in his chair, Cut said quietly, “Let me give you a quick history. You’ve seen the tapes of what I did to Emma, so you know what is required of you. In turn, you know what isn’t required of you.” He tilted his head. “The men of our family are weak when it comes to their Weavers. They fucked them—same as you. They fell prey to their charms—same as you.” His voice darkened. “However, unlike you, your forefathers saw what the Weavers were doing by enticing them into their beds. Nila is just like her ancestors. She was using sex to get to you—using her body to screw up your mind, and it fucking worked.”

My glass was empty. I wanted another.

Cut grew angry—the same mask I recognised slipping into place. “I have no issues with you fucking her. But what does make me rage is you did it without protection.”

I froze.

Conveniently, my mind had buried that titbit beneath all the other crap I’d been dealing with. No protection equals...

“Every time you sank inside that little whore, her face screamed victory. For her it wasn’t lust or love for you, Jethro, it was happiness at being the winner. She used you and it worked.”

Memories of her claiming to win made their way through my druggy fog.

He’s right.

Cut continued, “If your plaything is attractive, it only makes sense to use her for pleasure. As I mentioned before, Hawks are weak in that area and the Weavers somehow carry that knowledge in their bones. Didn’t you think there’d been accidents? Birth control wasn’t around at the start of this contract. Did you stop to wonder if there were half-breeds born of both Hawk and Weaver bloodlines? Impure abominations?”

My heart went from slow to interested. “No, I hadn’t.” I honestly hadn’t contemplated much of our heritage or history. Would that void the contract then? Firstborn carrying both genes?

I guess not, because it’s still in effect.

“What happened to them?”

Cut smiled cruelly. “Same thing that happened to their mothers.”

The alcohol I’d consumed oozed through my blood.

He leaned forward. “When Nila returns, when the time comes to extract more debts, you’re free to do whatever you want with her. I’ll put an end to any illegitimate offspring, and as long as you teach that whore her place, then I give you my vow that on your thirtieth birthday, I will gladly hand you the keys to everything I own. It will all be yours, Jethro.”

Finch majestically landed on the back of the couch, his beak sharp and deadly. Cut stroked the bird as if no threat echoed in his words.

I raised my empty glass. “Her tricks won’t work again, Father. Consider my eyes open and my heart firmly aligned with the Hawks.”

“Good to hear.” His gaze locked on mine. “Because if you disappoint me again, there will be two bodies in Nila Weaver’s grave. Mark my words, Jet. I love you, but I won’t hesitate to kill you if you screw this up again.”

* * * * *

Twenty-one days.

Five hundred and four hours. One hundred and twenty-seven tablets.

I hadn’t relapsed. I’d taken my medicine religiously, and Cut had tested me thoroughly.

I’d passed.

I was ready.

To celebrate the next stage of our plan, my father took the brotherhood off the estate to a local pub in the village. He hired out the entire place and bought each Black Diamond member dinner along with an open bar.

The night was full of laughter and drunken idiocy. Kes remained cool but friendly, and Daniel drank far too much, as fucking usual. I enjoyed myself, growing in my role as heir and basking in the way my men watched me. They looked at me the same way they looked at Cut—with trepidation and respect.

I’d truly taken my place, and there was no mistaking I was next in line for the throne.

After a four-course dinner and plenty of crude innuendoes, Cut stood at the head of the table, clinking a knife against his half-empty beer.

The low ceilings of the 16^th century pub pressed down on us with hops drying in the rafters. It was quaint and country—so different to the imposing halls and artifacts of Hawksridge.

“Attention.” Cut tapped his glass again. Men continued to snicker and drink. Cut slammed his glass down, making the dirty plates rattle. “Attention!”

Silence fell; all eyes zeroed in on Cut. “Time to toast. Listen up.”

A few men saluted while others sobered.

“Stand up, Jethro.”

The past three weeks had changed us. His face had lost its pinched anger. I’d lost my defiant hatred. We no longer looked at each other like we wanted to kill and maim.

We were equals.

I got my wish. I found a place in my family. I became...him.

Cut raised his arms. “Tonight is a special night, boys. Not only have we expanded across Sierra Leone this month and done more trades than ever before, but I believe luck has finally granted us a true successor.”

I’d done everything he’d asked. Put everything into place like he wished. And tonight, I’d earned his ultimate respect.

He tilted his glass to me. “The newspapers are bored with shredding my name. The black market dealers are back to buying in bulk, and our notoriety has only strengthened. The Weavers think they’ve won, but this is only the beginning.”

I planted my heavy boots on the ancient floor, mirroring him in a toast. “Here, here.”

The men followed, murmuring ascent.

We’d all seen the newspapers, the broadcasts of Vaughn Weaver telling secrets that should never be told. He thought he’d ruined us. That any moment we’d be arrested and convicted.

Stupid, stupid idiot.

Dressed in black leather with our stitched emblem of Black Diamonds on the pocket, I felt invincible. Nothing could stop us now. No one could even try.

I was untouchable. And it was fucking magical.

“To Jethro.” Cut’s voice softened. “To my son. To Kite. I’m so glad you’ve finally seen the error of your ways. I always knew you had potential and have no doubt you’ll earn everything I have to give before this is over.”

I nodded. “You can trust me.”

The men stomped their feet, sloshing their beer onto the table.

Kestrel patted my back. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Daniel gave me a signature smirk. “Roll on the next debt, brother.”

I was firstborn.

This was my legacy.

After weeks of preparation, I’d agreed once and for all to prove it.

By killing Nila Weaver.