Nila

I WOULD NEVER sleep again.

Not while Daniel roamed the corridors and Cut held my life in his hands. I would never relax while they breathed. I would never drop my guard while they plotted my demise.

But while they plotted, I plotted.

Together, we would meet in hell, and I was past caring who would win. As long as I exterminated them, I would happily trade my life for justice.

Twelve hours passed.

Twelve hours where my heart bled for Jethro and every minute erased his imprint on this world.

Twelve hours where I’d been alone.

I hadn’t seen anyone but Flaw. He’d knocked on my door around 9:00 p.m., bringing venison stew and crusty baguettes. He’d looked as bad as I did—his piercing eyes fogged with stress, his dark hair a turbulent mess. He was a direct mirror of grey disbelief and desolation. I’d wanted him to stay—to protect me if Daniel decided to pay a nocturnal visit, but the moment he’d delivered my dinner, he left.

Food was ash inside my mouth, but I forced small bites, painstakingly swallowing and providing energy to the only weapon I could rely on. Once I’d eaten every morsel, I’d sat cross-legged in the centre of my bed and tightened my grip around the ruby-encrusted dirk.

I couldn’t lie down because Jethro's smell laced my sheets.

I couldn’t close my eyes because his handsome face and blazing love haunted me.

And I couldn’t relax because I needed to be ready to attack if any Hawk came for me.

Only, they never came.

Daybreak brought a smidgen of peace, illuminating Hawksridge—yet again, hiding the filthy evil that seemed so obvious at night.

My cheeks itched from the salt of my sadness, and my head ached from dehydration.

For one heart-ripping moment, I permitted myself to fall face first on the bedding where Jethro had told me everything. I allowed grief to grab me with thick arms and smother me in terrible tears.

I relived his touch and kisses. I punished myself with memories of him slipping inside me, of him saying he loved me for the first time. I came completely undone as I hugged my knife and inhaled the last reminders I would ever have of him.

I had no photographs, no love letters.

Only a few texts and recollections.

They weren’t worth any monetary value, but in a blink, they became my most prized possessions.

Once I’d shed a final tear and drugged myself on his subtle flavour of woods and leather, I hauled myself out of bed and into the shower. Stepping into the hot spray felt like a betrayal to Jethro—as if I washed away the past, moving into a future without him.

I thought I’d cried my final tear, but beneath the waterfall, I purged again, letting my tears swirl down the drain.

I will kill them.

And I will dance on their graves when I do.

* * * * *

Dawn morphed to morning, one hour blending into another, drifting me further from Jethro’s memory.

I tried to leave. My body was weak, needing fuel, mimicking my aching heart with emptiness. But the doorknob refused to spin.

They’d locked me inside.

Could I break it down? Destroy it? But why should I waste my fury on an innocent door when Cut and Daniel deserved to be torn into smithereens?

So, I did the only thing I could. I sat on my chaise and gripped my cell-phone with chilly fingers, begging for a miracle to happen.

Text me, Jethro.

Prove it’s all a big mistake.

Over and over, I repeated my prayer, only for the stubborn phone never to answer. It remained blank and unfeeling, the battery slowly dwindling. The battle to keep going drained me to the point of exhaustion.

I could call for help. I could ring the police chief who’d taken me back after the Second Debt. But they’d wiped my file when I did the Vanity Fair interview. I’d cried wolf and they wouldn’t believe me—especially as most of them were bought by Cut.

Plus, I can’t leave Vaughn. I couldn’t risk giving them ammunition to hurt him.

Indulging in the past, rather than dwelling on a desolate future, I opened every text he’d sent, reliving the rush and sexual frustration of forbidden whispers.

Kite007: Me and my wandering hand missed you.

The intoxicating innocence when I didn’t know it was him.

Kite007: If I said I wanted one night of blatant honesty, no douche-baggery, no bullshit of any kind, what would you say?

The first crack in his cool exterior, revealing just how deep he ran.

Kite007: I feel what you feel. Whether it be a kiss or a kick or a killing blow. I wished I didn’t, but you’re mine. Therefore, you are my affliction.

The first taste of truth when he told me his condition in riddles.

Kite007: Don’t go into the dark alone, little Weaver. Monsters roam the shadows, and your time is officially up.

The last darkness inside him that’d vanished entirely the night we revealed everything.

All of it.

Every letter and comma were still tangible, while the author had now vanished. I would’ve given anything for him to reappear—to magically reverse tragedy and come back to me.

Jethro...

Hunching over my phone, I let go again.

Wracking sobs, heaving ribs, and a dying soul screaming that nothing would ever be the same.

He’s dead.

He’s...

dead.

* * * * *

At lunchtime, Flaw appeared.

My only visitor and I didn’t know if he was friend or foe.

For the past while, I’d stared into space, picturing gruesome ways to end it.

I couldn’t cry anymore.

I couldn’t read Kite’s texts anymore.

All I could do was exist in a room where scents of love mixed with smells of war, settling deeper into hate.

Flaw didn’t speak, only delivered a meal of salad and cured ham. With sad eyes, he retreated from my room and locked the door.

It’d taken over an hour before I had the energy to move from my crumpled, soggy ball. Along with the agony of grief, I’d surpassed the craving of hunger, leaving me blissfully blank of basic necessities.

I shivered, but I wasn’t cold.

My stomach growled, but I wasn’t hungry.

My heart kept beating, but I was no longer alive.

I wasn’t human. I was a killer waiting for first blood.

Blood.

The thought of extracting hot, sticky red from Cut and Daniel kick-started my energy. My hand curled around my blade as I crawled across the carpet and poked the food.

Eat.

Stay strong.

Kill.

The ham settled like salty concrete on my tongue. Every mouthful wasn’t about nutrition or satisfaction—it was about building power so I was ready for war.

Minute by minute, my anger solidified. The Hawks had been untouchable for long enough. They believed no amount of treason or rebellion could dethrone them.

They were wrong.

Their reign was over. It was time for a new ruler. One who stood for justice rather than debts. One who would avenge those she’d lost.

They’ve underestimated me.

And they would die because of it.

* * * * *

Dusk crept silently across my carpet.

The tentative darkness sucked the light from glittering sequins, sinking into rich velvet from the fabric bolts on the walls. Every minute its gloomy fingers made their way stealthily from window to bed, reminding me that my world might’ve ended yesterday, but the rest of the globe didn’t care.

The sun still rose.

The moon still set.

And my heart still beat regardless.

My ears pricked as the harsh scrape of a key echoed from the opposite side of the room. I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes, grabbing my dirk from the covers.

The door swung open.

I shifted to my knees, wielding the knife. After my shower last night, I’d dressed in black leggings and an oversized cream cardigan. But no matter how many layers or quilts I snuggled beneath, I couldn’t eradicate the chill of loneliness.

My ears still echoed with gunshots.

My mind replayed the moment when Kes collapsed with blood blooming on his shirt, and Jethro dove to protect his sister.

The sister who didn’t deserve to be saved.

My jaw clenched.

Jasmine.

She was in equal running for my dislike with Daniel. In fact, she was worse. Always coming across as gentle and removed from her mad family—when, in actual fact, she’d been the instigator and in cahoots with Bonnie.

Flaw appeared.

Peering around the door, he wore his typical outfit of jeans, black t-shirt, and Black Diamonds jacket. His gaze drifted to the knife in my hands, raising an eyebrow. “If you don’t want that confiscated, I’d hide it if I were you.”

My hands shook. “Why are you here?” I didn’t see any trays of food. A social call was out of the question. Shuffling higher, I narrowed my eyes. “Why do you care if they take my knife or not?”

He ran a hand through his hair, opening the door wider. “Don’t like this situation any more than you do.”

His voice sounded loud and obtrusive, spilling secrets. It was the first time I’d spoken to someone since I’d been locked up; I’d forgotten how to do it.

My heart ached. “You miss them, too?”

Jethro...

Kes...

The only ones not tainted by Hawk insanity.

He nodded. “Kes has been a close friend for years. Didn’t have much to do with Jethro until recently, but he proved he was a good bloke. Almost as good as his brother.”

His comment hurt irrationally. To me, Jethro was better than anyone. Then again, my heart was biased. Kestrel was a genuine, caring friend who’d sacrificed far too much for people who didn’t deserve him.

Myself included.

I hugged my knife, stroking it with the thought of spilling Cut’s blood. “He was the best. His death won’t go unpunished.”

Flaw came closer, his boots silent on the emerald W carpet. “Words like that can get you into trouble.”

I ran my thumb along the sharp blade. “I don’t care. All I want is for them to die.”

He cleared his throat. “Can’t say I don’t understand or feel your pain, but it’s best to stop saying such things.” Inching closer to the bed, he held out his hand. “I was told to bring you.”

My head snapped up. “What?”

The last time someone had come to take me somewhere, the maid made me dress in breaches and cheesecloth, then delivered me to the worst poker night in history.

I tightened my grip on the dirk. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He scowled. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

I moved away from him, inching to the other side of the bed. “Tell me why.”

“Why?”

My heart cantered faster—almost as fast as Moth, the day Kes took me for a ride. I should’ve been nice to him. Kinder. Less suspicious.

I bared my teeth. “If this is to re-do the Third Debt, I’m not going. I’ll kill you first.” My threat wasn’t empty. I boiled with the urge to do it—to prove I was done being weak.

Flaw jammed his hands in his back pockets. The action made him appear personable and less threatening.

I didn’t buy it.

He’d been there that first night when Jethro stole me from Milan. He’d witnessed what they’d done to me in the months I’d been there.

“I haven’t been told anything. I guess you’ll just have to come and find out for yourself.”

“Tell Cut he can come for me himself.”

My eyes darted around the room. I had weapons here: needles, scissors, scalpels for sculpturing lace. If I could entice Cut into my nest, I could ambush him with tools I knew how to wield.

He wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Look—” He shrugged. “I was told not to tell you, but fuck it. They’re in the library. And they have guests. I doubt they’ll do anything of a...family matter...in front of an audience.”

No, but they keep such blatant evidence.

Their audacity at keeping mementos of my ancestors’ pain infuriated me. Once I’d killed them, I’d gather up every video and document and burn them. I’d demolish every evidence and set my ancestors’ souls free.

Why not turn it into the police?

I shuddered. The thought of men in suits—men who the Hawks might’ve paid to turn a blind eye for so long—watching video-tapes of my mother’s agony almost made me black out with a vicious vertigo wave.

Gripping the sheets, I let the dizziness subside before blinking my vision clear.

Flaw hadn’t moved; a relaxed employee who knew I’d have to obey eventually.

“Why should I trust you? What’s to stop you from lying?” He might’ve been Kes’s friend, but he was still a Black Diamond. And they weren’t to be trusted.

“Because I might be the last remaining friend you have in this godforsaken place.” His face tightened for a moment, filling with thoughts he refused to share. “You need more? Fine. I happen to know the guests are lawyers.” Holding out his hand, he said, “Happy? Now, let’s go.”

“Lawyers?” I shook my head. “Why?”

What on earth are lawyers doing here?

Flaw gave half a smile. “Instead of all the questions, how about you just get it over with?”

I didn’t want to move but I couldn’t deny he had logic on his side.

With one last glower, I swung my legs off the bed and padded toward him. The room wobbled from getting up so fast, but other than that, my bloodlust for Cut’s life kept me focused on an anchor.

Jethro is no longer my anchor.

I was once again a shipwrecked boat, drifting on an ocean of misfortune.

Flaw’s gaze fell to my knife. “You planning on taking that?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

I waited for him to snatch it from me. To confiscate it. Instead, he pursed his lips. “I’m not the one on your shit list.”

“Not at the moment, you aren’t.”

He sucked in a breath.

Rebellion and power siphoned through my blood. I didn’t trust Flaw, but he wasn’t my enemy. Holding eye contact, I hitched up the hem of my slouchy cardigan, tucked the dirk in my waistband, and concealed it.

He didn’t say a word.

I was playing with fire. He was on their side. He could tell them I had it and leave me defenceless, but at the same time, I had to push and search for allies. Flaw had been kind to me whenever we’d crossed paths. He’d escorted me to my room late at night if Daniel caught me sneaking to the kitchens. He’d been there whenever I’d popped in to see Kestrel, laughing and seeming normal and carefree.

Anyone who was friends with Kes couldn’t be too bad—Kes wouldn’t tolerate it.

And I learned that the hard way.

He’s dead.

Just like his brother.

My heart panged. No matter how strong I forced myself to be, I couldn’t stop the lacerations of grief. It was like a rogue wave, lapping at my soul, tugging me under with its rip.

Flaw crossed his arms, challenge sparking in his eyes. “You know the knife won’t be enough.”

“I know.”

He cocked his head. “Then why bother?”

Running my hands through my hair, I twisted the black length to drape over my shoulder. “Because they won’t expect it. And the element of surprise can make a tiny knife become a sword.”

He chuckled. “Deep. Sounds like Confucius or some other metaphorical bullshit.”

I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I know what I mean. I know what I’ll do.” My tone slid to ice. “And I suggest you stay out of my way and keep your mouth shut.”

He laughed quietly. “Hey. As long as you stay away from me, I don’t have a problem. Always knew things would change. Ever since Kes told me what Jethro planned to do on his thirtieth, I knew my lifestyle was up.”

I froze.

He’ll never age another day.

Jethro’s corpse would forever remain twenty-nine—immortal and unchanging.

“What? What was he planning?”

“He didn’t tell you?” He crossed his arms. “I thought you were deep as fucking thieves. That was the reason all of this grew out of control.”

Breathing hard, I swallowed sadness. “No, he didn’t tell me.”

Flaw softened. “Sorry.”

I swiped at my face, dispelling any sign of tears. “So, what was he planning?”

He’s dead. But he’s still here...holding me...guiding me.

Learning more about Jethro, even though he was gone, was awfully bittersweet.

Flaw looked behind him at the open door. His face shadowed, and for a moment, I thought he’d refuse to say, but then he lowered his voice. “Once everything was his, he planned on ripping up the contracts. Ending it.”

My eyes grew wide. “Forever?”

“Yup.”

“He would have that power?”

Flaw turned rigid, his thoughts obviously on topics he didn’t enjoy. “Of course. He was a Hawk. They made the contract. They had the power to absolve it. Jethro planned to split up the estate equally between his brothers and sister and ban Cut and Bonnie from the grounds.” He rubbed his chin. “I only know that because Kes told me in a couple of years they might not require the Club to transport shipments because the shipments would stop altogether.”

“He didn’t want to smuggle anymore, either?” Wow. All this time I’d grown close to Jethro, yet we’d never shared our future together. Never lain in bed and murmured about what we wanted or dreamed.

Because our future was bleak.

Death for me. Heartache for him. Why focus on a fantasy when the reality threatened to destroy us?

Flaw moved toward the door. “Would you continue doing something illegal when you had more money than you could ever spend in hundreds of lifetimes?” His eyes darkened with nostalgia for his friends. “With the estate broken up, everyone could’ve gone their separate ways. Kes planned to take a few years off and spend it in Africa injecting some of the money taken from its soil back to its people.” He sighed. “Like I said, a good man.” 

Placing his hand on the doorknob, he tilted his head. “Enough talking. They’ll be waiting. Better get you there before they suspect something.”

The cold steel of the blade wedged against my back. It gave me courage but couldn’t stop my sudden tremble. “Will you give me your word you’re not taking me somewhere for those psychopaths to hurt me?”

His jaw clenched. “I just told you insider information that could get me killed if you said anything. Doesn’t that deserve a little trust?”

“It does if it was said out of understanding rather than manipulation. I’ve fallen for the kind act far more times than I’m comfortable with.”

Flaw frowned. “Would it help to know I give you full permission to gut the next bastard who tries to hurt you?”

My heart stuttered. “Permission? You think I need your permission?” Moving toward him, I stood close enough to smell his spicy aftershave and leather from his jacket. “Give me something better than your permission, Flaw.”

He straightened. “Like what?”

“Like freedom.” I waved at the window. “I could’ve run. I could’ve somehow found my way to the boundary and vanished, but they have my brother. Bring V to me and we’ll go. I’ll take my family and disappear.”

And then I’ll come back and murder them in their sleep.

His eyes burned into mine. “You know I can’t do that.”

“So, all your talk of a better future and good men...that was what? Empty words?”

He scowled. “There are things going on that you don’t know about.”

I threw my hands up. “Oh, really? Funny, I’ve never heard that before.”

Once again, thoughts flickered over his face, secrets shadowing his eyes.

“If that’s true, tell me. What’s going on?”

He looked away. “I can’t answer that.”

I laughed morbidly. “No, of course, you can’t.”

“That’s not fair.”

My temper frayed, entirely unleashed. “That’s not fair?” I poked him in the chest. “What’s fair about me being subjected to more Hawk insanity? What’s fair about having the love of my life shot in front of me? What’s fair about waiting to die?!”

His hands fisted.

“You know what; I’m done.” Shaking my head, I brushed past him into the corridor. “Just take me to them like a good minion and get out of my sight.”

He growled under his breath. “Don’t judge me. Don’t judge my actions based on what you can’t see.” Stomping in front of me, he said over his shoulder, “I know who I am, and I know what I do is right.”

Animosity flared between us.

I stayed silent, following him down the corridor toward the wing where I’d spent most time with Kestrel. We passed the room where he’d given me the Weaver Journal and headed into the hall where the library was located. My mind flickered back to the afternoon he’d found me, asking if Jethro had been to see me since completing the First Debt.

At the time, his question wasn’t too unusual. But now it took on a whole new meaning. He wasn’t asking about me. He’d been asking about his brother—keen to know how absorbing my pain had affected his empathetic sibling.

God, how bad had Jethro felt? How much did my thoughts destroy him? 

“In there.” Flaw stopped outside the library.

So many memories were already stored in this place. So many breakthroughs and breakdowns as I grew from girl to woman.

Not making eye contact, he muttered, “They’re waiting for you. Better get inside.” Without a goodbye, he turned on his heel and left.

His retreating back upset me all over again. He was the last connection I had to Kestrel’s kindness and to Jethro’s ultimate plans.

Come back.

My soul scrunched tight as the ghosts of Jethro and Kes haunted the walls of their home. In twenty-four hours, I’d gone through the cycles of bereavement: disbelief, shock, despair, rage...I doubted I’d ever get through acceptance, but I embraced my anger, building a barrier that only clearheaded, cold-hearted fury could enter.

I didn’t want any other emotion when facing Cut and Daniel.

Touching the dagger hilt, I straightened my shoulders and pushed open the library doors.

My eyes widened as I stepped into the old world charm of book-bindings and scripted letters. The large beanbags where Kes had found me dozing still scattered. The window seats waited for morning sunshine and a bookworm to absorb themselves in fairy-tale pages.

This place was a church of stories and imagination. But then my gaze fell on the antichrist, polluting the sanctity of peace.

“Nice of you to join us, Nila.” Cut waved at the one and only empty chair at the large oak table.

My teeth clamped together. I didn’t reply.

“Come.” He snapped his fingers. “Sit. We’ve waited long enough.”

You can do this.

Obey until an opportunity presents itself.

Then...

kill

him.

I drifted forward, drawn by the multiple pairs of eyes watching me.

Bonnie, Daniel, Jasmine, Cut, and four men I didn’t recognise waited for me to join them. The four men wore sombre black suits and aubergine ties—a uniform painting them with the same brush.

I drew closer to the table.

Daniel stood up, wrapping a vile arm around my waist. “Missed you, Weaver.” Planting a kiss on my cheek, he whispered, “Whatever happens here tonight doesn’t mean shit, you hear me? I’m coming for you, and I don’t fucking care what they say.”

I shuddered with disgust.

Withdrawing the hate from his voice, Daniel transformed into a cordial smile. “Sit.” With a gallant act, he pulled out the empty seat. “Take a load off. This is going to be a long meeting.”

I wanted to touch his pulse, count his heartbeat, relish in knowing they were numbered.

Soon, Daniel...soon...

Locking my jaw, so I didn’t say anything I might regret, I sat down.

The men in matching suits never looked away. They ranged in age from sixties with greying hair to mid-thirties with blond buzz cut.

Daniel kicked my chair forward so my stomach kissed the lip of the table. I sucked in a breath, straightening my spine uncomfortably in order to tolerate the tight arrangement.

His golden eyes met mine, smug and vainglorious.

I’ll cut that look right off your face.

My fingers twitched for my knife.

Daniel sat beside me, while the person on my other side hissed, “No speaking unless spoken to. Got it?”

My eyes shot to Jasmine. Her hands rested on the table, a cute gold ring circling her middle finger, while her seat perched on a small ramp, bringing the wheels in line with the chairs of the other guests. She looked like a capable heiress, dressed in a black smock with a black ribbon around her throat. She was the epitome of a mourning sister.

I don’t buy it.

I’d misjudged her—thought she was decent and caring. She’d fooled me the most.

Tearing my gaze from her, I glanced at the remaining Hawks. Just like Jasmine, they all wore black. Bonnie looked as if she’d jumped into a jungle of black lace and fastened it with glittering diamond broaches. Cut wore an immaculate suit with black shirt and tie. Even Daniel looked fit for the opera in a glossy onyx ensemble and satin waistcoat.

I’d never seen so much darkness—both on the outside and inside. They’d discarded their leather jackets in favour of mourning attire.

All for what?

To garner sympathy from outsiders? To play the part of grieving family, even though they were the cause of murder?

I hate you.

I hate all of you.

My hands balled on the table. I wanted to say so many things. I wanted to launch onto the table and stab them with my knife. But I heeded Jasmine’s warning and stayed put. There was no other way.

Cut cleared his throat. “Now that we’re all here, you may begin, Marshall.” His gaze pinned the oldest stranger. “I appreciate you coming after work hours, but this matter has to be dealt with quickly.”

Bonnie reclined in her chair, a faint smile on her lips.

Every time I looked at the old bat, I got the feeling she was the meddler in all of this. She was the reason Cut was the way he was. She was the reason why Jasmine was disabled and Jethro and Kes were dead. I guessed she was also the reason why Jethro never mentioned his mother.

I’d been in their lives for months, yet no one had uttered a thing about Mrs. Cut Hawk.

Unless it was a miracle conception and Cut carved his children from his bones like some evil sorcerer, she had to have existed and stuck around long enough to give Cut four babies.

Where is she now?

Images of Jethro and Kes reuniting with their mother in heaven gave me equal measure of despair and comfort.

If she’s even dead.

She could be trapped in the house, on a floor I didn’t know, in a room hidden from view. She might be alive and not know that her husband killed two of her sons.

God, what a tragic—

The stranger coughed, stealing my attention. “Thank you, Bryan.” Meticulously, he aligned a wayward fountain pen beside his tan ledger before looking at his colleagues. “I’ll start, gentlemen.”

His grey eyes locked on me, gluing me into my chair. “You must be Ms. Weaver. We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting up till now.”

My back bristled.

Any man who’d studied the law and permitted the Hawks to continue to get away with what they did wasn’t someone I wanted to speak with.

Daniel nudged me. “Say hello, Nila.”

I clamped my lips together.

“You don’t want to be rude.” He snickered. “These guys have met all the Weavers. Isn’t that right, Marshall?”

My heart stopped.

What does that mean?

Marshall nodded. “That is correct, Mr. Daniel. I, personally, am lucky enough to have met your mother, Ms. Weaver. She was a fine young woman who loved you very much.”

I thought the pain of Jethro’s death had broken me past any other emotional agony.

I was wrong.

The mention of my mother crippled me. A sob wrapped wet tentacles around my lungs.

Don’t cry. Do not cry.

I would never cry again. Not as long as these people lived.

I’ll slaughter you all!

Jasmine arched her neck condescendingly. “Instead of torturing an already tortured girl, let’s get on with it, shall we?” Her eyes gleamed. “Leave the emotional battery to me once the legalities are straightened out.”

Cut chuckled, eyeing his daughter with newfound awe. “Jasmine, I must say, I never knew you were so capable.”

Bonnie preened like some proud mother hen. “That’s because I told you to leave her to me.” White tendrils of hair escaped her chignon, wisping in the low-lit room. “She’s stronger than Jet, Kes, and Dan combined. And it’s all thanks to me.”

I wanted to vomit. Or slash her to pieces. Either would work.

How could someone of that age, who should be tender and kind, be so heartlessly cruel?

Jasmine merely nodded like a princess accepting a compliment and turned her attention back to the life-stealing, blood-sucking, soul-leaching lawyer. “You may continue, Mr. Marshall.”

Marshall stretched his wrinkly face into a smile. “As you wish, Ms. Jasmine.” Waving at his partners, he said, “Ms. Weaver, before we begin, we must honour the common niceties. I am principal director of the firm Marshall, Backham, and Cole. We have provided legal counsel and been sole conservator of the Hawk family for generations. My father was proud to be of service and his father and his father before him. There is nothing about the Hawk legacy that we are not a part of.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you know what I’m saying?”

I stopped breathing.

A part of everything?

So outsiders were aware of what went on inside these walls? Lawyers knew what the Debt Inheritance entailed and yet they were okay with it?

My body throbbed with another flush of fury.

I didn’t just want to steal three lives but theirs, too. The corridors of Hawksridge Hall would flow with blood by the time I eradicated the amount of people in on this ancient serial killing spree. Their innards would drape the walls, and their bones would rot the foundations with their malicious ideals.

That’s all they are.

Rich, eloquent, intelligent murderers hiding behind false pretences of contracts and signatures.

Would they sign a new contract giving me the right to slash their throats and tear out their hearts in payment for atrocities committed?

It doesn’t matter.

I didn’t need their permission.

I focused on the table, on the swirls of wood grain, rather than his face. If I looked up, I wouldn’t have the strength to stay in my chair. “You’re saying you presided over my ancestors’ executions? That you helped bribe away the truth and protect these sick bastards?”

Cut shot to his feet. “Nila!”

I ignored him, my fingernails digging into my palms. “You’re saying you helped change the law and enabled one family to destroy another? You’re saying you had my ancestors killed?”

I slammed my chair back, my voice reaching a glass-shattering octave. “You’re saying that you can sit there, talk to me, tell me whatever bullshit you’re about to do, all the while knowing they mean to chop off my head, and you don’t have a problem with that?”

Jasmine snatched my wrist. “God’s sake, sit your arse down.”

“Let go of—” I cried out as Daniel grabbed my hair and shoved me forward. I lost my footing; my face smashed against the table. Instantly, blood spurted from my nose, pain resonating in my skull.

Sickness drenched my senses with agony.

“Drop her, Daniel!” Cut yelled.

Daniel’s fingers were suddenly torn from my hair, letting me slouch backward, landing in my chair. Jasmine fought off her brother, slapping him away. “Don’t fucking touch her. What did I say? I’m in charge. I’m the oldest.”

My eyes watered as more blood gushed from my nose. I didn’t think it was broken, but the room spun with an induced vertigo wave.

God, what was I thinking?

The plan was to remain cool and invisible, looking for the perfect chance.

Now I couldn’t think straight with pain.

“You’re not in fucking charge, Jaz. She’s mine.” Daniel pointed at Marshall. “Tell her. Amend it, so my sister can shut the fuck up about the rules.”

Marshall looked awkwardly at Cut. “Sir?”

Cut ran a hand over his face, slowly sitting back down. “No, the conversation we had yesterday still stands.” His lips turned up at the rapidly building stain from my nosebleed. Every red drip redecorated the table and the front of my cardigan. “Someone get her a damn napkin.”

Jasmine shuffled in her wheelchair, pulling out a white handkerchief. “Here.” Shoving it into my hand, her eyes flickered with compassion.

It only made me hate her more.

Scrunching up the material, I held it to my nose, getting sick joy from destroying the white perfection. The stuffiness made me breathless, and my eyes drifted to the corner where initials had been embroidered.

JKH

I dropped it.

Oh, my God.

My hand splayed open, tinged with crimson and sticky but unable to hide the two tattoos on my fingertips. JKH.

Jasmine kept her brother’s handkerchief.

Why? To rub salt in already hollowed wounds or to laugh over fooling him just like she’d fooled me.

I locked eyes with her, pouring all my rage into my stare. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done.” Glancing at Bonnie and Cut, I added, “You’ll all pay.”

Marshall cleared his throat loudly. “I think the little interlude has come to an end. Shall we continue?”

“Yes, let’s,” Bonnie sniffed. “Never seen something so unruly in all my life.” Sniffing in my direction, she tilted her chin. “Another word out of you, Weaver, and you won’t like the consequences.”

Daniel moaned, “But Grandmamma—”

“Buzzard, zip it,” Cut growled. “Sit down or leave. But don’t fucking talk again.”

Daniel muttered under his breath but plonked back into his chair.

Jasmine grabbed the red-sodden material and shoved it under my nose. “Hold this, shut up, and don’t get into any more trouble.”

The skirmish ended; no one moved.

Silence hovered thick over the table.

The only sound was the heavy ticking of a grandfather clock by the gold ladder leading to the limited editions above. Side lamps had been switched on, filling the large space with warm illumination, while curtains blocked any remaining light that dared trespass on priceless books or fade cherished words.

Finally, Marshall sucked in a breath. He rearranged his fountain pen again. “Now that we’re all on the same page, I’ll carry on.” Looking at me, he said, “For the rest of this meeting, you may address me as Marshall, or by my first name, which is Colin. These are my colleagues.”

Pointing to the man closest to him: a potbellied, watery-eyed bald guy, he continued, “This is Hartwell Backham, followed by Samuel Cole, and my son Matthew Marshall.”

My nose ached but the bleeding had stopped, leaving me stuffed up. I glowered at the men. There wasn’t an ounce of mercy in their gazes.

They were here to do the job they’d been entrusted. Their loyalties were steadfast. Their intentions unchangeable.

I doubted they saw me as human—just a clause in a contract and nothing more.

Daniel poked me under the table. “After your little stunt, the least you can do is be nice.” His voice deepened. “Say hello.”

Yet another way to make me obey. He didn’t care about pleasantries—only about making me submit to his every childish whim.

I sat straighter.

I’ll do nothing of the sort.

Jasmine nudged me. “If you won’t listen to him, listen to me. Do it.”

I glared at her. “Why should I?”

“Because you belong to her, you little cow.” Grabbing her cane, Bonnie struck her chair leg as if the furniture would turn into a horse and gallop her away from there. “Start. Now.”

Marshall launched into action. “Of course, Madame Hawk. My apologies.” Slapping open the file in front of him, his partners copied. Ledgers flung open and pens uncapped.

“Let me assure you that we’re honoured to once again provide service to your impeccable family,” Marshall twittered like a buffoon.

Cut groaned, steepling his fingers. “Lose the arse kissing. Did you bring the file or not?”

Paper scattered the wooden tabletop like fallen snowflakes, reminding me all over again of the icy way Jethro protected himself—the arctic coolness and thawing as I slowly made him want me.

The pain in my nose shot to my heart.

He’s dead.

He’s dead.

Don’t think about him.

Marshall selected a certain page. “I did.” Looking at his son—the blond buzz cut douchebag—he pointed at a box by the exit. “Grab that will you, Matthew?”

Matthew shot to his feet. “Sure.” In a whisper of cashmere suit, he went to retrieve the large white box.

Curiosity rose to know what was in it. But at the same time, I was past caring.

More bullshit. More games.

None of it mattered because I was playing a different game. One they wouldn’t understand until it was too late.

Jasmine scooted her wheelchair back a little, giving Matthew access to the table.

He smiled in thanks, placing the heavy box before his father. Marshall stood up and opened the lid while his son sat back down.

I sniffed, trying hard to clear my nostrils of blood. The pounding headache made everything fuzzy—a struggle to completely follow. I wanted to be coherent for whatever was about to happen.

No one spoke as Marshall removed reams and reams of paper and stacked them in neat piles on the table. The more he withdrew, the more aged the paper became. The first pile was pristinely white, neat edges, and uniformed lettering from a computer and printer.

The next stack was thin and cream-coloured, smudged edges, and the fuzzy blocks of a typewriter ribbon.

What is going on?

The third was yellowed and crinkled, shabby with torn edges, and the spidery scrawl of human penmanship.

And the final stack was moth-eaten, the colour of coffee, and swirling calligraphy of an art lost long ago.

That colour...

Its coffee bean shade was similar to the Debt Inheritance scraps Cut had given me at my welcome luncheon.

Could it be...

My attention zeroed in on Cut.

“Do you hazard a guess as to what that is, Nila?”

I shivered at the fatherly way he said my name, as if this was a family lesson. Something to be proud of and honoured to be an exclusive member.

I don’t need to guess.

I cocked my chin. “No, I don’t.”

He chuckled. “Come now. You already know. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jasmine huffed. “Just be honest. For once in your life.” Her voice dropped to a harsh curse. “Don’t make this any worse, for God’s sake.”

Whoa...

After everything she’d done. After cuddling up to her father after he shot Jethro and Kes and promising me a world of hurt for being responsible for such a tragedy, she had the audacity to make it seem as if I were unappreciative and uncooperative.

Not going to fly anymore.

Screw being meek and quiet.

I’d tried that.

Now, I snapped.

Turning to face her, my hackles rose. The claws I’d grown when I’d first arrived unsheathed, and I wanted nothing more than to drag them across her face. “I’d watch what you say to me...bitch.”

The room sucked into a dark hole, hovering in space, glacial and deadly.

The curse hovered between us, not fading—if possible, only growing louder the more the silence deafened.

I never swore. Ever. I never called people names or stooped to such a crass level. But since Jethro had died, I’d sunk steadily into profanity, and the power of that simple word bolstered my courage a thousand times.

I loved the righteous power it gave me.

I loved the shock factor it delivered.

Jaz gaped. “What did you just call me?”

I smiled as if I had a mouthful of sugar. “Bitch. I called you a bitch. A motherfucking bitch, and I think you’ll find the name suits you.”

Bonnie slapped her cane onto the table, cracking the palpable tension. “Watch your tongue, hussy. I’ll have it ripped out before you can—”

Jaz held up her hand. “Grandmamma, let me handle this.” Her eyes narrowed to bronze blades. “Let me get this straight. I’m the bitch? I’m the bitch for loving my brothers so much that I now want to avenge their deaths by killing the person who took theirs? I’m the bitch because I gave everything to Jethro, including the use of my legs, and don’t deserve to honour his memory by making you suffer?”

Her face turned red. “Excuse me if you don’t think I’m worth that, Ms. High and Fucking Mighty. Perhaps, we should kill your brother and see what sort of person you’d turn into.”

My heart exploded at the mention of harming Vaughn. “Don’t you dare touch him.”

“Address me properly and we’ll see.” Jasmine shoved her face close to mine. “Behave yourself and your twin will walk away when you die. Don’t, and his head will be in the basket beside yours.”

Oh, my God.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t even speak through the horrors of what she’d said.

“If you so much as touch him—”

“You’ll what? Kill me? Yeah, right.” Jaz rolled her eyes. “Like anyone believes you’re capable of that, little Weaver. Even Jethro knew you could never hurt him and that’s why he—”

I slapped my hands over my ears. “Stop it!”

Daniel broke out into loud guffaws. “Well, fuck me, sis. You’re kinda badass.”

Jaz looked at her younger brother. The harsh glint in her eyes increased with maliciousness. “You have no idea, baby brother.”

Cut clapped his hands. “Marshall continue. My mother must rest, and we have a lot to cover. Ignore any further outbursts and get on with it.”

Marshall nodded. “Yes, sir. Of course.”

Jasmine twisted away from me, facing the lawyers. She breathed steadily with no adverse reactions to our verbal war.

The lawyers shuffled and stacked their files. No one was fussed that Jaz had just announced every sordid detail. That she’d admitted to holding me and my twin hostage or that they callously planned a double homicide.

And why would they?

They belonged body, heart, and soul to the devil born Hawks.

Marshall pointed at the piles of paperwork. “Mr. Hawk has advised me that you were shown the original document labelled the Debt Inheritance. Is that correct, Ms. Weaver?”

My muscles quaked with the need to bolt or fight. Both would be preferable. Sitting sandwiched between Jaz and Daniel only wound me tighter.

My mind ran with profanity.

Fuck you.

“Answer him, Nila,” Cut said.

“You already know that that’s correct.”

Marshall warmed to his task, finally having one of his questions answered without Armageddon breaking out.

God, I wish you were here, Jethro. Sitting beside me, granting me strength.

I was all alone.

“Fantastic. Well, that document is just the first of many that you’re about to become acquainted with.” Laying his hand on the oldest looking stack, he lowered his voice. “These documents are the originals, passed down through our firm and our connection with the Hawks to keep safe and protected. In here exists every note, amendment, and requested clause update. It has been lodged in accordance with the times and royals in power, drifting through kings, queens, and ultimately, prime ministers and diplomats.”

My headache came back at the nonsense he spouted. “You’re telling me people in power kept signing these...when they knew all along what it was?”

Hartwell Backham answered, his voice rich as burnished copper. “Don’t underestimate the power of a family crest or the name of the oldest law firm in England. We have garnered centuries of goodwill, and our clients sign what we suggest. They trust our judgement and don’t have time for consuming activities such as reading every document that crosses their tables.”

There was so much wrong with that sentence, it astounded me.

“You’re saying that—”

Marshall interrupted me, doing what Cut had told him and powering through my retaliation. “Over the years, the Debt Inheritance has had to...how shall I say? Adapt.”

I couldn’t argue. I couldn’t win.

All I could do was sit and silently seethe.

“All contracts are amended at some point or another, and this is no different.” Marshall uncapped his fountain pen. “I hope that’s self-explanatory, so I can skip to the next topic.”

“No, it isn’t self-explanatory.” I snarled, “What you’re saying is all this talk of being set in stone and law-abiding is actually not—it’s revised to suit your benefits with no input from my family?”

My stomach roiled at the unfairness. How could they change the rules and tote it over our heads like gospel? How could they notarise something without both parties agreeing?

Who were these corrupt, money-grubbing lawyers?

Cut tutted under his breath. “Don’t force me to gag you, Ms. Weaver.” His eyes blackened as if I’d offended his moral code.

What moral code?

He was scum.

“Everything we do is within the parameters set by our current law. We’ve made sure nothing is carried out until it’s first written, signed, and witnessed.”

“Even rape and murder?”

Bonnie leaned forward. “Watch your tongue.”

Cut clasped his fingers. “I’ll allow that one last question. Perhaps, if you finally understand that all of this is meticulously recorded, then you might stop thinking you’ve been indisposed and suffering an injustice.”

Sitting taller in his chair, he buffed his fingernails on his cuff. “Things outside the realm of understanding can become approved if it’s drafted and agreed to. What do you think war is, Nila? It’s a contract between two countries that men in their comfy offices sign. With one signature, they deliver countless resources and sign the death warrant of so many lives. That’s murder. And it’s all done with no comeuppance because they had a contract stating they had the full use of enlisted men’s lives all for greed, money, and power.”

I hated that he made sense; hated that I agreed with my archenemy. The world had always been twisted in that respect. Sending men off to war, only to die the moment they landed on enemy soil...then to send yet more men to the exact same battlefield, knowing the outcome would be death.

That was homicide on a negligent global scale, and those in power never paid for their crimes.

I sat silent.

Cut smiled, knowing he’d gotten through to me in some way. “When I say everything was done by the law, I do mean everything.” He nodded at the stacks of paper. “In there, you’ll find every deviation from the Debt Inheritance along with a Hawk signature and a Weaver’s.”

My heart skipped painfully. “You’re saying my family signed this?” I snorted. “I don’t believe that. Did you force them under duress?”

Marshall huffed. “At no point would my firm accept such a thing. We have iron-clad records that protect our client’s reputation. We have proof to show there was no hardship signing the amendments.”

Like I believed him. He let murderers get away with it for six hundred years.

Plucking a piece of paper from the fourth pile, he handed it to me. “See for yourself.”

Part of me wanted to crumple it up and throw it in his face, but I restrained.

Calmly, I accepted the page and scanned it.

The scraps Cut had given me in return for serving them lunch had been taken from this document. The Debt Inheritance was there in its entirety.

My eyes highlighted certain lines, remembering the ridiculous contract.

For actions committed by Percy Weaver, he stands judged and wanting.

Even I agreed with that after he’d sent an innocent girl to her death by ducking stool and a boy to be raped for twelve hours.

Bennett Hawk requires a public apology, monetary gain, and most of all, bodily retribution.

How much money did Weaver pay? Was it enough for the Hawks to somehow leave England, find their diamonds, and became untouchable through wealth?

In accordance with the law, both parties have agreed that the paperwork is binding, unbreakable, and incontestable from now and forever.

That part I didn’t believe, but it wasn’t arguable. In the minds and pockets of the Hawks, Weavers had to pay continuously toward the bottomless debt.

But Jethro would’ve ended it.

We could’ve been the last generation to ever have to deal with this brutal nonsense.

Percy Weaver hereby solemnly swears to present his firstborn girl-child, Sonya Weaver, to the son of Bennett Hawk, known as William Hawk. This will nullify all unrest and unpleasantries until such a time as a new generation comes to pass.

So the boy who’d been raped for Weaver’s gambling debts was the one who’d carried out the first Debt Inheritance? Had he taken great joy in hurting the daughter of his enemy, or had he hated it as much as Jethro?

This debt will not only bind the current occupancies of the year of our Lord 1472 but every year thereafter.

How something had lasted for so long was a testament to feuds and grudges of wealthy madmen.

Once I’d reached the bottom, Marshall handed me another page. “This was the last amendment to the contract before today’s meeting.”

Doing a switch, I scanned the new document. The page was white and modern—only a few years old rather than decades. 

In the case of the last surviving line of Alfred ‘Eagle’ Hawk and Melanie ‘Bonnie’ Warren, the succession of the Debt Inheritance will go to Bryan ‘Vulture’ Hawk over his recently deceased brother, Peter ‘Osprey’ Hawk.

I frowned, absorbing the legal jargon.

What did it mean?

I looked at the very bottom, sucking in a breath as I double-checked the feminine sweep.

No.

My mother’s signature.

“What—”

I read it again. No matter how much I wished it wasn’t true, it was. My mother’s signature inked the paper, prim and proper, just as I remembered her writing style to be.

Right beside hers was Cut’s masculine scrawl.

My brain scrambled; I glared at Cut. “You weren’t firstborn.”

Cut smiled slyly. “Never said I was.”

Bonnie’s red lips spread into a sneer. “Sad day for all involved.” She tapped her fingers on the table. “I’d groomed my firstborn to be a worthy heir. Peter would’ve been a good leader but circumstances I didn’t foresee came to light.” Her gaze narrowed at Cut, full of reproof and history.

Cut shrugged. “A little mishap. That’s all.”

Bonnie coughed. “Call it what you want. I still haven’t forgiven you.”

Cut only laughed.

What on earth happened in that generation? What about the ages of the men? How was Cut allowed to claim my mother? Was that why she’d had children? Hearing that the firstborn Hawk had died, had she believed she was unbound to the debts?

If that was the case, how did she know what the future entailed when I hadn’t been told until Jethro appeared in Milan? Tex kept it from me. Emma might’ve been forewarned.

So many questions. So many scenarios.

When did Peter Hawk die?

If he died when my mother was young, maybe that was why she fell so hard for my father. Drunk on the thought of freedom, she’d started a family far younger than she might’ve done thinking we were all...safe.

What a horrible, terrible joke.

Questions danced on my tongue. I chose the most random but most poignant. “What happens when you run out of Weavers to torture? I won’t have children. Vaughn won’t. What then?”

Daniel laughed. “Remember that sister I joked about?”

Oh, my God. It’s true?

Cut interrupted. “You have no other siblings, Nila. I would’ve told you if you did. Merely a farce.”

Daniel scowled. “Thanks for fucking ruining my fun. Had her believing that for months.”

I hadn’t believed it...but I’d wondered.

“So, it was all nonsense?”

Cut shook his head. “Not quite. You have a cousin. A few times removed but still bearing the Weaver name. We would look at all avenues if the future required it.”

Poor cousin.

I overflowed with rage. “Do you ever listen to yourself? You’re talking about people, for God’s sake.”

If Cut went after my unknown cousin, that didn’t explain the previous generations that’d had no children or were killed off before carrying on the bloodline. How did it continue for so long when having a child was never a guarantee?

I knew how. They’d amended it. Tweaked the so-called unbreakable contract to fit with the Hawks’ demented ideals.

Marshall plucked the paper from my hands. “I believe we’re getting off topic, Ms. Weaver.” Waving the parchment, he said, “Let’s focus on today’s subjects. Happy now you’ve seen the evidence with your own eyes?”

“Happy isn’t a word I know anymore.” I bared my teeth. “She wouldn’t have signed that without being threatened. I don’t care what you say.”

That fleeting afternoon when my mother returned home, adorned with the diamond collar and hugging me so tightly, came to mind. She’d been terrified but resigned. Broken but strong. I hadn’t understood back then, but now I did.

She’d reached the same stage I had. The stage where nothing else mattered but getting even, claiming justice.

There’s a point to this meeting.

My heart froze solid, finally understanding. “I won’t sign anything. I can assure you of that. You might as well pack up and piss off because I’ll tear apart anything you put in front of me.”

Jasmine growled; Cut merely chuckled. “I’m sure if you did that, you’d make Daniel a very happy man.”

Daniel draped an arm over me. “Oh, please, Weaver. Do it for me. You have my full permission to refuse the amendment and cut Jaz out of the updated terms.”

“Like hell she will.” Jasmine looped her fingers together in aggression. “You’ll sign, Nila. You’ll see.”

I didn’t reply, glaring at the table instead.

Marshall shuffled the paper. “All right, let’s carry on.” Pinching the top sheet from the newest looking tower, he pushed it toward me. “This is the latest amendment and requires your signature.”

My blood charged through overheated veins. “I told you—”

“Shut it.” Jasmine snatched the paper and stabbed the bottom where an empty box waited for my life to spill upon it. “Do it. It’s your only choice.”

Our eyes locked. Not only did I hate her for what she’d done and how much she’d tricked me, but I hated that she looked so much like him.

Jethro.

The shape of her nose. The curve of her cheekbones. She was the closest in appearance to him, and it hurt to hate someone who looked so much like the man I loved.

“I told you. I’m not signing anything.”

Jaz’s cheeks flushed. I wouldn’t put it past her to slap me. In fact, I wanted her to because then I’d have an excuse to fight with a girl in a wheelchair.

Could I kill her? Could I slide my blade into her heart all while knowing Jethro had cared for her?

He was tricked...same as me.

I would honour his memory by destroying yet another person who’d betrayed him.

Hartwell shifted in his chair. “You don’t know the terms yet. Listen before being hasty.”

Jasmine tore her eyes away from mine, glaring at the lawyer. “The terms being that I have full right to both Weavers, Nila and Vaughn. In return, Daniel can have the estate and all monetary wealth that comes from being heir.”

I flinched, shivering in the sudden arctic hatred she projected.

“That has been discussed, Ms. Jasmine. I feel you’ll be satisfied with the arrangements.”

Jasmine sniffed haughtily. “Discussions aren’t conclusions. There is no negotiation on the matter. I want to extract the Fourth and Final Debt. That right is mine.”

“Jasmine, calm down. I’m sure you’ll be satisfied with the new arrangement.” Cut held out his hand. “Give me the contract, Hartwell. Let me see everything has been noted before we make it official.”

Marshall stole the paper from me and slid it up the table.

Cut caught it; he took his time reading, his eyes darting over fine print.

I breathed hard, suffering a crushing weight of grief and revulsion.

He’s dead.

But they’re not.

Why couldn’t Cut and Bonnie be dead instead of Jethro and Kestrel?

Because life is never fair and it’s up to me to carve out justice.

Jasmine remained rigid until Cut finally raised his eyes and shot the contract over the satin wood toward us. “I’m happy with that. The Fourth Debt will be repaid slightly differently to the rest, but that will be another discussion.” His eyes met his children’s. “In this case, three signatures will be required—Nila, Dan, and Jaz.”

He made it sound like a school permission slip for us all to go play happily together.

I snorted, rolling my eyes.

Cut gave me a stern look.

Samuel Cole, who hadn’t made a sound since I’d arrived, spoke up. “In that case, it is my duty to advise all of you that this new clause will be forever known as amendment 1-345-132.”

My eyes widened. How many amendments had there been to warrant such a crazy number?

Judging by the stacks of paperwork...a lot.  Far too many. Was there anything left of the original contract?

Mr. Cole continued, “Due to the unfortunate deaths of the firstborn, Jethro Hawk...”

Pain slammed into me.

Agony tore out my heart.

Misery crumbled me into dust.

Jethro.

God, I wish you hadn’t left me.

I couldn’t sit up straight; howling winds of grief ripped me apart. I hunched into myself, holding my ribcage to keep from sobbing.

I managed to remain silent.

But Jasmine didn’t.

Her lip wobbled, tears streaking her cheeks. She cracked, but it didn’t last long. Sucking in a breath, she reached into the small satchel attached to her wheelchair and pulled out another handkerchief.

Bowing her head, she dabbed at her eyes.

My lips twisted in disgust. “I don’t buy your crocodile tears. Don’t bother putting on a show when I know you were part of this murder from the start.”

Her head shot upright. Our souls duelled, violence sparking between us.

Cole cleared his throat. “In natures of the firstborn perishing, the following may occur: The Debt Inheritance can be called null and void, leaving Ms. Weaver to propagate and provide a new heir for the payment at a later date, or, if both parties agree, a new heir instated. In the case of Jethro ‘Kite’ Hawk’s demise, the second in line, Angus ‘Kestrel’ Hawk also suffered an untimely end.”

God, how much longer can this nightmare continue?

I huddled further into my chair, a silent tear escaping. More swelled, wanting to river, but I refused to show my pain.

Jasmine blew her nose, her cheeks glittering with moisture.

I wanted to snatch each fake droplet and ram them down her lying throat.

Daniel smirked, showing no other emotion. “Guess that leaves me in a lucky place.”

Cole ignored him. “In this case, we’ve been asked to draft the following arrangement to protect both interests and move forward.” Placing a pair of silver-rimmed glasses on his nose, he picked up an identical copy of the contract. “On this day, the Debt Inheritance will be carried out by the remaining bloodlines of the Hawk family against the crimes committed by the Weavers. Jasmine Diamond Hawk will have sole custody and responsibility for Nila Weaver’s wellbeing until such a time as the Final Debt is claimed.”

Daniel squirmed in his chair. “What the fuck? But—”

“Let him finish,” Bonnie ordered.

“Upon his thirtieth birthday, Daniel ‘Buzzard’ Hawk will gain the wealth and many estates associated with the Hawk empire and become the next undisputed heir to both the estate and future Debt Inheritance. It will be his responsibility to provide a firstborn son or the next generation will be exempt.”

I sagged, finding a smidgen of silver lining.

At least there would be no more Weavers from my bloodline to claim the debts from—and Daniel would be dead. I pitied my cousin’s family tree if the Hawks had another heir in mind, but I would never have children and Vaughn wouldn’t be stupid enough. He’d never let another one of our family go through what we had. The Hawks were screwed. They’d burned those bridges completely.

Cole carried on in his smooth voice. “The final note to be observed is the matter of who will carry out the Fourth Debt.”

The room tensed.

“Jasmine will oversee the Final Debt, but Bryan Hawk has overridden the request for the right of Fourth Debt and granted it to Mr. Daniel.”

Tension ricocheted out in a burst of savagery. “No way!” Jasmine glared at Cut. “Father, we agreed. You said she was mine. I’ve proven myself time and time again. Give her to me.”

Cut steepled his fingers, unruffled by her disorder. “There’s a method to why you won’t carry out the Fourth Debt, Jasmine.” His attention fell on Marshall. “Finish, please, then we can carry on to the next point on the agenda.”

The next point?

My God, what else could they discuss?

I’d just learned I was the property of Jasmine with loopholes for Daniel to hurt me.

Didn’t I have a say in any of this?

Daniel snickered, capturing my hand and tugging it into his lap. “Guess we have a date, after all, little Weaver.” Raising my hand to his mouth, he kissed the back of my knuckles. “Including the matter of finishing the Third Debt.”

I convulsed.

Cut chuckled. “Oh, yes. Unfinished business.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t think we’ve forgotten about that, Nila. You don’t wear the tally mark yet because it wasn’t completed. We’ll get to that a bit later, though. Give you some time to adjust.”

My fingertip wearing Jethro’s initials itched. His mark still existed in this world while he didn’t. Would I continue to be marked in his name for debts extracted or would I wear DBH instead?

Steeling my heart, I scoffed. “Gee, thanks. So thoughtful of you.”

Daniel squeezed my hand. “Watch it.”

Every molecule wanted to extract myself from his slimy, grip.

Cole shuffled in his chair, barrelling through the air of hostility with a contemptuous look. “May I continue?”

Cut nodded. “By all means.”

Bonnie scoffed under her breath, the diamonds of her broaches gleaming like death rays. 

Cole looked back at the contract. “The first part of the Fourth Debt will be explained at Cut’s discretion.”

First part?

“And the second part, hereby known as the Fifth Debt, will be carried out by Daniel Hawk due to the nature and requirements of the debt.”

Was there always a Fifth Debt or was that new?

I trembled to think of more pain but I was glad in a bizarre way. It means I have more time to kill them before they kill me.

“An able-bodied person must extract payment and...” His eyes fell on Jasmine, pity glowing. “...requires a journey not fit for someone in Ms. Hawk’s condition.”

My back stiffened at the look he gave her—the look I’d seen so many people give others less fortunate than them.

What was I talking about?

Less fortunate? Jasmine had more wealth than she could ever spend. She came from a lineage that banded together and protected their own no matter the cost. Not having use of her legs was a downside, but it didn’t handicap her, nor did it make her a nicer person for her struggles.

Jasmine fisted her hands on the table. I didn’t know if it was from the misplaced condolences or anger at being denied.

Either way, I laughed under my breath, unable to stop my derisive frustration. “Don’t pity her.”

Cole glanced away guiltily.

Jaz flicked me a cold look. “Don’t you dare speak on my behalf.”

I turned to face her, war ready to break out between us. I thought I’d find the courage to fight by sparring with Daniel or Cut. Not Jasmine. I’d hoped, woman to woman, we would rally together. I’d hoped she’d be on my side.

Stupid hope. Stupid, stupid dreams.

Marshall sent a fountain pen skittering toward me, breaking the strained standoff. “If you would be so kind to sign and initial the amendment, I’ll ensure it’s kept safe and on record.”

They hadn’t listened to a word I’d said. Once again, treating me as a clause to fix, an amendment to be filed.

For a split second, I was glad Jethro and Kes were dead.

They were free from this. Free from suffering more insanity.

My heart imploded on itself as Jethro took over my mind. His tinsel hair, golden eyes, and unbearable complexities.

He’s dead.

There was nothing else for me but to play their game until there was a winner and a loser.

I’ll be the winner.

I picked up the pen. With steady hands, I uncapped it and had a sudden daydream of breaking it in half and splashing ink all over the so-called contract.

My mind raced with thoughts of my mother. Had she sat in this exact chair and signed the previous amendment? Why had Cut become heir and what’d happened to his brother?

Did he kill that family member, too?

I glared at him.

Cut glared right back.

I wanted answers, but how would I get them?

The Weaver Journal?

Could the diary actually have anything worthwhile inside and not just brainwashing drivel that Cut wanted me to believe? I hadn’t bothered with it because every time I touched its pages, a sense of evil had warned me away.

Lies and misfortune and fraudulent deceit.

I’d suspected Kes gave it to me to keep me in line by reading about the adversity of my ancestors—striving to be better to avoid such things—but what if he gave it to me for another reason? What if he’d been trying to help me from day one?

Why didn’t I study the damn thing?

Because I’d been so wrapped up in Jethro. Falling in love, attending polo matches, and accepting horses as gifts.

God, I’m so stupid.

“Ms. Weaver.” Marshall slapped the table, wrenching me from my thoughts. “If you would be so kind...”

Jaz stiffened in her chair. “We don’t have all day, you know.” Ripping the page away from me, she snatched the fountain pen, and signed the bottom where her name and date waited.

Pushing me out of the way, she scooted the contract and pen to Daniel. “See, Nila? Wasn’t so hard.”

Daniel smirked. “Watch again how easy it is.” He signed with an unintelligible scrawl. “Signing your life away, literally. Kinda fun, isn’t it?” He placed the two items back in front of me. “Your turn.”

“I’m surprised you don’t expect me to sign in blood.”

Bonnie gave up being the silent matriarch and slid into a caustic temper. “For shit’s sake, you stupid girl. Be reasonable!”

The table froze.

My heart sprinted with hostility. She wanted to fight? I’d give her a damn fight. “I am being reasonable. You expect me to die for you. It would make sense to make me sign in blood—I’m sure you’d get a kick out of that, you witch.”

I smiled, glowing in resentment. In the course of one meeting, I’d called Jasmine a bitch and her grandmother a witch. Not bad considering my past of being shy and scared of confrontation. Even vertigo gave me a reprieve, keeping me levelheaded and strong.

Bonnie shot pink with fury. “Why you little—”

Marshall jumped in, waving his hands in a ceasefire. “We don’t expect it in blood. Ink will more than suffice.”

“And if I don’t?”

“If you don’t what?” Cole frowned.

“If I don’t sign it—like I’ve been saying since I got here. Then what?”

Marshall flicked a glance at Cut. His jaw worked as their eyes shot messages above my comprehension. Finally, he bowed his head. “Then a certain type of persuasion would be used.”

I laughed loudly. “Persuasion? Torture, you mean. I thought you had integrity to uphold. Didn’t you just say you had evidence that all documents were signed without—as you put it—persuasion?”

Marshall hunched. “Well...eh...in some cases—”

“Sign the bloody paperwork, you ingrate!” Bonnie stood up stiffly, her cane in hand.

“Nila, fucking—” Cut growled.

“Shut up! All of you.” Jaz suddenly wrapped her fingers around mine, pinching the pen into position. Dragging my hand over the paperwork, she muttered, “The things I fucking do.”

“Wait, what are you doing?” I struggled, but found out that she might not have use of her legs, but she had strength in her arms that I couldn’t fight.

“I’m putting an end to this. I’ve wasted too much time dealing with this as it is.” She forced the nib onto the paper.

“No, wait!”

Digging her fingernails into my hand, she directed the pen and printed a rudimentary name.

My name.

Signed and witnessed on the Debt Inheritance amendment.

“What the hell have you done?”

She released me. “I did what I had to.”

My chair screeched backward as I towered over her. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She wheeled away from the table, wobbling a little on the ramp. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” She stabbed me in the belly with her finger. “You’re the one dragging this out when you know there’s no way out.” Tears gleamed in her eyes. “He’s dead. They’re both dead. The sooner you are too, the better.”

My heart plummeted to the floor. Jethro’s voice and touch and smell and kisses all slammed into me.

He’s dead.

He’s dead.

God, it hurts.

“I wish it were you!” I screamed. “You never deserved him. You should’ve died instead of him. He leapt in front of you to save you and this is what you do to repay him! I hope the devil—”

“Enough!” Cut soared upright, eyes shooting golden sparks. “Jasmine, calm down. Nila, shut up immediately.” He splayed his arms like a messiah seeking peace. “It’s done. It’s unfortunate that this had to happen, but—”

“My brothers’ deaths are a misfortune, Father?” Jaz’s cheeks glowed red. “I’ll tell you what’s a misfortune—having to deal with this bullshit!” Her hands latched around chrome wheel rims. “I’m sick of this. I want her gone. Now! I want this finished!”

The lawyers scrambled to their feet. “I think it’s time we departed.” The towers of paperwork quickly disappeared back into their boxes.

The men bowed. “Pleasure being of service once again. We’ll be back in touch once the, eh...once the final part of the inheritance has taken place.”

The final part?

The final part?

That was my final part—the last straw on my willpower.

I cracked. I was a girl, but now I was a monster.

I’ve had enough.

Enough!

Darting around the table, I planted myself in Colin Marshall’s path. His eyes flared. My palm twitched. And I slapped the bastard full on the cheek.

My hand blazed with fire, but I loved it.

I embraced the pain.

I gave myself over to fury.

His mouth popped open. “What on earth? Ms. Weaver!”

Chairs screeched as Hawks leapt to their feet. I ignored them.

“Listen to me.” I stalked Marshall as he backpedalled. “That final part you just so loosely mentioned is my death. The day they cut off my head and steal back their necklace from my decapitated throat.” I looped my fingers through the diamond collar. “How can you stand there discussing my life like a simple business transaction? How can you delete the lives of two men—two men who would’ve put an end to this insanity—and think you’re upholding something legal? How can any of you breathe the same air as me and not be struck down for the devils you are?”

My arms were suddenly wrenched back, pinned on my lower spine. Daniel’s fingers squeezed hard. “That’s not the way we deal with lawyers, Nila.” Stomping backward, he gave me no room but to trip with him. “You’ll pay for that, and I’ll have a lot of fun teaching you some manners.”

I was too far gone to care.

Marshall rubbed his cheek. Bowing one last time at Cut, he continued with his holier-than-thou arrogance. “Like I said, we’ll be in touch.” Touching his hairline, he smiled at Bonnie. “Lovely seeing you again, Madame Hawk.”

Bonnie’s red-painted lips thinned. “I won’t say likewise.”

Daniel didn’t let me go as the four men gathered briefcases and boxes and left the room in a sea of black suits and purple ties.

The moment they’d disappeared, Jasmine slid down the ramp and glared at her brother. “Let her go. She isn’t yours to play with.” Without another word, she spun her wheels and disappeared after the lawyers.

My heart stopped beating. I prepared myself for pain. My outburst filled the room with echoing bloodshed, but...incredibly, Daniel let me go.

Cut ran a hand over his face, looking at his mother. “Well, that wasn’t peaceful, was it?”

Bonnie never stopped glaring at me. “No. It wasn’t.”

Daniel laughed, slinging an arm over my shoulders. “You’re free to go, little Weaver. But don’t go too far.” He kissed my cheek like any lover or sweetheart. “Don’t forget what I said about our private meeting.”

A shudder worked through my body.

The private meeting would turn into war.

I’d slipped into murderous; there was no going back from that.

Without another look, I turned on my heel, and positively flew out the door.

I needed space to think and fortify. I needed time to prepare and commit.

Daniel will be the first to die.

Darting from the library, I careened around a corner and slammed to a halt.

My chest rose and fell as I plastered myself against the wall, spying on the scene up ahead.

I remained hidden as Jaz ran fingers under her eyes, swiping away tears.

Only, she wasn’t alone.

A man crouched before her, his hand on her knee, talking quick and low. She nodded, looping her fingers through his. Their heads bowed together; she grabbed the lapel of the man’s Black Diamond jacket.

Her pinched, ghostly face animated with hissed whispers.

They didn’t notice me as Jaz pulled the man closer and spoke into his ear.

I slipped deeper into shadows as the man nodded.

He said something that made her convulse and a fresh wash of tears flow.

Then my heart stopped beating as the man gathered her into a hug.

The man...

It was Flaw.