Nila

LIFE MOVED ON.

I learned to live with a broken heart and stopped jumping at shadows.

No one came to steal me back, and the threat of destroying my family’s life went unresolved. However, I had one question that never left: Are they just biding their time?

In my mind, I lived in a fake world of normalcy and safety. But somewhere out of sight, clouds were forming—growing heavier and more powerful every day.

I no longer trusted that the police could help or that publicity could keep me safe.

If the Hawks weren’t done with me, there was nothing anyone could do.

Hour after hour, I wondered why I stayed. Why I headed into the factory to work under crazy deadlines and demanding buyers. Why didn’t I just run?

The passion to create had gone.

I had no wish to sew.

I hated my listlessness.

I hated the coldness inside that no one could touch.

I lived in constant trepidation; serpents gathered in my gut, hissing with premonition. I missed Jethro with every fibre of my being. He was dazzling sunlight and now I lived in endless darkness.

I was dying without him.

But it wasn’t finished.

The debts weren’t done.

Vaughn wanted me to fly to Asia and hide. Father wanted me to enter witness protection and escape.

I didn’t want to do any of those things and worried about all of us—about what this had done to my family. But despite my worries, my clothing brand exploded overnight.

Nila went from exclusive couture to being the most wanted garments in all major department stores. Vaughn became the face of menswear and even dabbled in design himself.

And me...

I went from Weaver Whore to a slave for the Weaver Empire. I didn’t have the drive I once did but didn’t have the heart to tell my family.

The only time I had to stand still was to wobble with a vertigo attack.

I was paraded before media.

I was the centre of a worldwide scandal.

I was a marionette.

All I could do was clutch my brother as my life spiralled out of control.

I missed the tranquillity of Hawksridge.

I missed the lavender-scented breeze when I sat out in the gardens and sketched.

But most of all, I missed the soul-deep connection with Jethro.

I’d continued to bombard him with messages, but he didn’t text back.

Not once.

Not a single time.

My gut churned as the world laughed. Questions followed me wherever I went:

How could they get away with that?

Why didn’t they tell someone?

Why didn’t they run?

Even I felt that way.

Yes, the Debt Inheritance was used as a tool to wield power. Yes, it granted certain privileges to our pain. But none of that was the real reason.

There was nothing to stop Jethro or his family setting up a sniper rifle on the building opposite our home and firing rounds of ammo through our windows, slicing our lifespan in a blink.

They didn’t need the Debt Inheritance to kill us.

This was something more.

A game.

Something I felt was more to do with Jethro than with me. I was just the unlucky target. Just like any employee had to prove their loyalty and skills before a promotion, I had a horrible feeling I was Jethro’s final test.

* * * * *

Needle&Thread: I don’t know why I keep messaging you. You’ve cut me out of your life completely. Three weeks, Kite. Three long weeks of nothing. You’ve hurt me worse than anyone. I miss talking. I miss our messages. I miss...

I pressed send before I could delete it.

I shouldn’t miss him—not when he obviously felt nothing for me.

Try telling my stupid heart that.

My stupid heart fed me worry. I feared for his life. I had no way of knowing if he was alive or dead.

Waiting for a new message reminded me of the very beginning when I first started messaging him. I’d hang on a thread for one tiny response—waiting for a sliver of his attention. It seemed I’d gone full circle.

I leaned over to dump the phone into my bedside drawer when something miraculous happened.

It vibrated.

Oh, my God!

Fumbling with the lock screen, I swiped it on and stared greedily at the first text from Jethro in almost a month.

Kite007: That’s cruel, leaving the message unfinished.

My heart thundered. Resting against my pillows, I replied:

Needle&Thread: You’re cruel, not replying to any of them.

Kite007: Cruel is my middle name.

I glanced at my fingertip tattoo and its inked JKH.

Needle&Thread: No, it’s not.

Kite007: Believe what you want to believe.

Needle&Thread: What happened to you? Tell me. You seem different.

Kite007: I am different.

My chest deflated, sorrow drowning my veins. He’d let them win. He’d changed.

Needle&Thread: You might believe you’re different, but I know what happened between us. It’s not over because you care for me.

Kite007: That’s in the past. But you’re right. What happened between us isn’t finished.

My spine whipped straight. What did he mean?

Needle&Thread: The world knows. I heard they questioned your father. It’s only a matter of time before he’s convicted. The debts are over. It means we can be together—truly with no horrible ending hovering over us.

Kite007: Still such a naïve little Weaver.

Tears bruised my eyes. In a few words, he’d successfully tarnished my memories of him and made me doubt.

My hands shook as I responded.

Needle&Thread: You said you’d tell me everything—who you are...what you suffer. I’m asking you...tell me. Don’t let them win.

I couldn’t stand the thought of Jethro going to jail for what he’d done. Even though he deserved punishing—he’d been under the control of Cut. If he let me help him...he could stop his family and finally be happy...with me.

Kite007: I’m not that man anymore. There’s nothing to tell.

My heart fell out of my chest.

Needle&Thread: Don’t do this, Jethro.

Kite007: It’s not up to me, Threads.

My world screeched to a halt. That nickname. It wasn’t his to use.

Needle&Thread: How do you know that name?

Kite007: Come on, silly girl. You think I don’t know everything about you? You think the past month you’ve been free of me? That I’m not there...watching you?

Goosebumps splattered across my arms. If his tone was nicer, I would’ve been thrilled to know he’d been watching me. That he missed me and had to stay close.

But his tone was sinister—reminding me all too much of Milan.

I tried to reply, but I had nothing left.

My silence encouraged another text from him.

The phone came alive in my hands.

Kite007: Your time is almost up, Nila Weaver. Enjoy it. I’m coming for you.

* * * * *

I’m coming for you.

I couldn’t think of anything else.

I’m coming for you.

But when?

Work the next day did nothing to ease my state of mind.

I suffered three vertigo incidents before lunch, and when I finally had time to eat, I threw it all up again.

Please. Please...don’t let my sickness be what I think it is.

I pressed my forehead against the cool porcelain of my private toilet in my office as more nausea tore through my system.

I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Dreadful horror crept over me.

I had unprotected sex.

Jethro came in me.

Twice.

I moaned as the room spun again.

I can’t be pregnant. I can’t!

Doctors had always told me I ran too much. My periods had stopped coming a year ago, and they said I’d tricked my body into believing it was in starvation mode; therefore, it wasn’t strong enough to have children.

I’d been careless.

I’d been fucking stupid.

Why did I think I could ignore it?

Stumbling to my feet, I grabbed my purse and charged out of the warehouse with its steampunk vibe and countless cubicles all with private sewing machines. My bodyguards that Tex had commissioned were somewhere close by, but I didn’t want them following me.

Not for this.

I didn’t take a breath until I’d run down the stairs and dashed down the road to a local pharmacy. I didn’t think people might witness me buying a pregnancy test, and I definitely didn’t think I would bump into my twin as I came out with a little paper bag clutched in my hands. All I focused on was getting answers. Answers I should’ve learned weeks ago.

I can’t be pregnant!

I slammed into his hard bulk.

V’s dark eyes widened, his arms automatically coming out to catch me. “Threads! Been looking for you. I have a new idea for the backlog and—” His gaze dropped to my fingers, concern etching his brow. “Eh, you okay?”

My cheeks heated.

No, I’m not okay.

I nodded, backing away from him and hiding the test behind me. “Yes, I’m fine. I have to return to work. See you later, alright?”

Pushing past, I bolted across the road, summoned the lift, and flew into my office in record speed.

The moment I was safe, I locked the door and charged into the bathroom.

“Please. Please don’t let me be pregnant.”

The mantra wouldn’t stop echoing in my head. There was no logical way I could be pregnant. Surely!

It was explainable. I’m not pregnant.

My hands trembled as I ripped open the baby-blue box and read the instructions. I’d never had to do this before. It was almost as embarrassing peeing on the testing strip as it was making myself come by a showerhead.

My head pounded.

Was that only last month? Had I gone from writhing with fantasies of Jethro Hawk to spiralling into panic thinking he’d knocked me up?

Oh, God.

“Please, don’t let me be pregnant!”

Shaking, I fumbled with what I had to do. Once done, I placed the cap back on the wet strip and tossed the test into the sink. I couldn’t touch it any longer. I couldn’t look.

Oh, God.

Oh, God!

I stepped away.

I stepped so far away.

I backed up against the wall, bracing myself against the cool grey tile.

I’m not pregnant.

I would know if I was pregnant.

You’ve been throwing up a lot.

That’s explainable.

You suffer from vertigo.

You. Are. Not. Pregnant.

My inner thoughts henpecked and argued, swinging between screaming for being so stupid, to planning how to kill myself just to get this nightmare over with.

Five minutes ticked past, and I still didn’t have the courage to look.

Go on.

Get it over with.

“Nila?”

Oh, my God, this couldn’t get any worse. What was my brother doing in my office? I locked the bloody door!

He has a key.

Two seconds later, he rapped his knuckles on the bathroom. “Threads? You okay?”

My throat closed up. I wanted the ground to fissure and swallow me.

“Nila, answer me. I’m worried about you.”

Swallowing back a sudden avalanche of tears, I pushed off from the wall to open the door.

Only the door swung wide, presenting my perfect brother in jeans and a white t-shirt. He looked as if he’d stepped off a runway, while I looked like a homeless ragamuffin.

His eyes went first to the damn pregnancy test in the vanity, then swung to me.

His dusky colouring went ashen; his eyes darkened. “Please. Please. Please tell me that animal didn’t fucking rape you.” Prowling forward, he seethed in the small space. His temper bounced off the tiles, ricocheting with violence. “Nila, tell me right now. Did that cocksucker fucking touch you?!”

I laughed. If only it had been that easy. That awful. I would have an excuse for my stupidity. This was all on me.

V’s lips twisted in horror as my laugh turned into a sob.

It wasn’t rape. It was glorious. It was everything I ever wanted and can never have again.

More tears erupted, giving way to the avalanche.

“Threads, hey. It’s okay. We can get you help.” Vaughn closed the distance and tugged me into his arms. “It’s okay, sis. Honest. I’ve got you.”

His concern was worse than his anger.

More tears.

More sobs.

I struggled. I didn’t want him touching me. Not when I didn’t know if I could live with myself. But his gentle warmth—so unlike Jethro’s frostiness—seeped into me. I sagged. I hadn’t let myself cry since the morning I’d been taken from Hawksridge. But now, I couldn’t stop.

I let it all go.

Somehow amongst my tears, I stuttered, “He—he didn’t ra—rape me, V.”

Just admitting I’d brought this on myself filled me with another wave of shame, of remorse.

V stiffened. His arms bunched as he pulled back, looking into my eyes. “What do you mean, he didn’t...” Understanding suddenly swamped his face. “Fuck, Nila! You slept with him?” Tearing his hands from me as if he were contaminated, he snarled, “You slept with that motherfucker—willingly?”

My tears dried up. I hung my head. “Vaughn, don’t.”

“Don’t?” He stormed to the vanity and swiped the pregnancy test into his fist. He shoved it in my face, hiding the viewing window so I couldn’t see if I’d just ruined my life by being impregnated with Hawk spawn.

“You slept with him unprotected!” He snorted. “Bet Tex will be so happy to know all his energy at keeping you sheltered was in vain. The first guy you’re around and you have to fucking screw him and get pregnant!”

“I don’t know if I’m pregnant yet!”

“Should we find out then?” He presented his palm, holding up the test. “I can’t believe you. God, Nila!”

I didn’t want to see.

I wanted to see.

The results were upside down.

V noticed at the same time I did. He rolled his fingers so the test bounced upright.

One little line.

One.

What does that mean?!

I quivered with terror. “The packet—what does the packet say?”

Vaughn looked behind him, returning to the vanity to pluck the discarded box from the bowl. Passing it to me, he threw the test into the bin and washed his hands. As he ran the water, it gave me time to figure out this mess, while he got a hold on his temper.

I flipped the box.

“Congratulations, you’re pregnant if you see two blue lines.”

Two.

I slithered into a puddle.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!

V spun around, his face losing the angry glare and melting into regret. “It’s negative?”

I nodded.

No baby.

Suddenly, I didn’t know how I felt about that.

I eyed the rubbish bin. I couldn’t leave the test in there. I couldn’t run the risk of prying staff or my father jumping to conclusions.

The moment V left, I’d take it to the bin in the park opposite our factory.

He sighed. “I’m sorry, Threads. I was out of line.” He came by my side, sliding down the wall to wrap an arm around my shoulders. “You okay?”

I tilted my head, resting against his shoulder. He was so good to me. How could I resent him and Tex for saving me?

“Yes,” I whispered. “I’ll be fine.”

V squeezed me. “Talk to me, Threads. You haven’t said one word about what they did to you. Every time I bring it up, you change the subject.” Sighing again, he added, “If you don’t talk to me, you have to talk to someone. I can feel that you’re unhappy. I’m feeding off your vibes.” Nudging my shoulder with his, he smirked. “Twin link, remember? I could always tell if you were hurting.”

Something about what he said tickled my brain, trying to connect dots I couldn’t follow.

“I’ll be okay soon. I promise.”

Let me mend my broken heart in peace.

He couldn’t know I’d fallen for Jethro—not after his campaign of death and destruction against the firstborn Hawk.

We sat there in silence for a few moments. V gave me quietness with no judgement, allowing me to put myself back together again. Slowly, my heart rate calmed, shoving away the panic.

V’s touch was like a butterfly, whispering sweetly over my shoulder. He’d always been so gentle with me—so different to the man I’d fallen for. Jethro had been anything but gentle. He’d whipped me, fucked me, and adored me in his own dark way.

He scarred me.

I flinched to think what Vaughn would do if he saw what existed beneath my teal blouse. The scars Jethro had painted me with from the First Debt blemished me forever. V wouldn’t be happy. Shit, I’d go so far as to say he’d tie up Jethro and give him the same punishment—only a lot harder.

Squeezing my eyes, I tried to push away those concerns. Vaughn would never know because I would never show him.

V stiffened, his fingers digging into my skin.

“What? What is it?” I shifted in his hold, peering into his eyes.

“Nothing. Forget it.”

I paused. Normally, if V had a thought, I could pick up on his idea. We were in tune with work, with life. But this time, I had no clue.

Pinching him, I said, “Come on. You can’t leave me hanging like that. Give me something else to think about other than this catastrophe.”

Vaughn shook his head, looking as if he wanted to tear the thought from his brain. “I—no, you don’t need to hear it.”

“And you don’t have to feel my sadness, yet you do.” Sitting up, I untangled his arm from around me. “Tell me.”

He sat taller, running a hand through his glossy black hair. “What if you had been pregnant?”

I froze. “What do you mean?”

He looked away. “This madness with the Hawks is over. The police are involved. The media know everything. You’re as safe as I could make you by telling everyone what I know. But...what if it’s not enough.”

Tremors captured my limbs. Jethro’s text came back to haunt me.

I’m coming for you.

“What do you mean?”

V looked at me, his eyes tight and grave. “What if you had his kid? What if you gave birth to a girl?”

My mind raced. “She’d be a firstborn girl. She’d suffer the same fate our mother and I did. I would never put her through that.”

V shook his head. “She’d be firstborn. She’d be a girl. She’d be a Weaver.” He leaned closer. “But she’d also be a Hawk.”

* * * * *

V’s epiphany changed everything.

I couldn’t stop thinking about alternatives, imagining an entirely different conclusion to the Debt Inheritance, to Jethro, to our future as enemies.

Jethro said he was coming for me.

I didn’t know when and I didn’t know how...but what if I let him?

What if I went back with him willingly? Instead of saving him and running, why not do something to end the debt completely? I could end this—like I’d promised my dead ancestors.

Would it work?

Would my scheming of seducing him over and over again until I became pregnant be abhorrent or justified?

Did it make me a terrible person to contemplate bringing another life into this madness—all in the hope of breaking the debts hold?

Could I even stomach becoming pregnant with a firstborn of mixed blood? Would Jethro agree to something so drastic—so crazy? Would I go to hell for trapping someone that way?

My mind whirled with more and more questions.

If I did do all of those things—would it destroy everything? Put an end to debts being collected because the debts were now merged? Why had no one thought of it sooner?

Is it even possible?

There were dreadful flaws to my plan. Cut barely tolerated his own children. I couldn’t see him decreeing the Debt Inheritance null and void just because the firstborn of both houses was made from both houses. I couldn’t see him giving up that easily.

But Jethro...he might.

If he had something of his own...for the first time in his life...

Would he fight to protect it?

Would he finally give me his heart and choose me over them?

He could change.

He could save me.

He could save himself.