Nila

I STOPPED COUNTING time by hours.

One day.

Two days.

Three days.

Four.

Nothing had meaning anymore.

I thought the Hawks couldn’t hurt me once I’d sunk to their level and played their games. I thought I’d be safe to plot my revenge and hold on until Jethro came for me.

I was such a stupid, stupid girl.

Bonnie proved that over and over again. Breaking me into pieces, scattering my courage, burning my hatred until there was nothing left but dust. Dust and cinders and hopelessness.

Five days or was it six...

I no longer knew how long I’d existed in this hell.

It no longer mattered as they slowly broke my will, ruining my conviction that I could win. However, Jethro never left me. His voice lived in my ears, my heart, my soul. Forcing me to stay strong, even when I couldn’t see an end.

If it wasn’t for the passing of autumn into winter, I might’ve thought time stood still. The ticking of clocks was only punctured by pain. The passing of night and day only pierced by Bonnie’s whims and wishes.

I’m dying.

On my lowest moments, I thought I was dead. On my highest moments, I still fantasised about killing them. It was the only thing that got me through the hellish week they subjected me to.

My hate evolved into a living, breathing thing. There was nothing left but loathing.

What else was there to feel when I lived with monsters?

My mind often tortured me with thoughts of happier times...Vaughn and me laughing, of my father being so proud, of the sweet satisfaction I got from sewing.

I wanted this to be over. I wanted to go home.

Every time my thoughts turned to Jethro, I shut down. The pain was insurmountable. Every day, I stopped believing he’d survive and worried about the worst instead. In my rapidly unthreading mind, he was dead and I believed a lie.

Jasmine tried her best to keep me from the worst.

The Rack she’d denied.

The Judas Cradle she’d flat-out refused.

But there were others she couldn’t reject—she couldn’t disobey her grandmother, no matter that her eyes screamed apologies and our unspoken bond knitted tighter.

Jethro was no longer there. But Jasmine was.

And I learned to love and hate her for helping me.

Her help wasn’t love and kisses and tender stolen moments. No. Her help was selecting the punishment I was strong enough to survive, carving my soul out dream by dream, keeping me alive as long as possible to find some way out of lunacy.

The worst part of my punishment was Vaughn saw it all.

He witnessed what the Hawks did.

He knew now what I was subjected to.

His screams were what undid me; not Bonnie’s laughter or Cut’s smug chuckles—not even Daniel’s demented cackles.

Love was what ruined me the most.

Love was the ultimate destroyer.

But no matter how much I tried to let go...I couldn’t.

* * * * *

“Do you repent, Nila? Do you agree to pay the Final Debt?”

I squirmed in my bindings, choking on terror as Daniel marched me toward the guillotine. All around me stood ethereal figments of my exterminated family, their detached heads hovering above their corpses.

A wail howled over the moor. Was it death? Was it hope?

I would soon find out.

“No, I do not repent!”

Cut came toward me. His face was covered by an executioner’s black mask. In his hands rested a heavy gleaming axe, polished and sharpened and waiting to sever my neck.

Bending toward me, he kissed my cheek. “Too late. You’re already dead.”

“No!”

“Oh, yes.” Daniel chuckled. Shoving me forward, the guillotine grew from simple bascule and basket into something horrendous. “Kneel.”

I crashed to my knees, sobs suffocating me. “Don’t. Please, don’t. Don’t!”

No one listened.

Bonnie pressed my shoulders, forcing me to lean over the lunette and stare at the woven basket below. The same basket into which my head would roll.

“No! No! Stop! Don’t do this!”

“Goodbye, Nila Weaver.”

The axe swung up. The sun kissed its blade.

It came slicing down.

A bell woke me.

A tiny tinkle in the heavy swaddling of darkness. My heartbeat clashed with cymbals, and my hands swept up my throat. “No...” The diamonds still imprisoned me. My neck was still intact.

“Oh, thank God.”

I’m still alive.

Only a dream...

Or was it a premonition?

I coughed, chasing that question away.

My fever had brought many hallucinations over the past day or two: images of Jethro walking into my room. Laughter from Kestrel as he taught me how to jump on Moth. Impossible things. Desperately wanted things.

And also dread and dismay. The torturing didn’t stop when Cut had had his fun...my mind continued to crucify me when I was alone.

The bell came again.

I know that sound...but from where.

I was tired and sore. I didn’t want to move ever again but deep inside, I managed to find the strength to uncurl from my nest of bedding and reach under my pillow.

Could it be?

My fingers latched around my phone, my heart trading cymbals for drums. The rhythm clanged uncertainly, drenched in malady and doing its best to keep me alive. My nose was stuffy, eyes watery, body achy.

I was sick.

Along with my hope, my body had given in, catching dreaded germs and shackling me to yet another weakness.

I’d come down with the flu four days ago. A day after Bonnie told me what would happen. Twenty-four hours after I’d seen what’d happened to Elisa in those feared photographs. But none of that mattered if the bell signalled what I so fiercely needed.

For days, I’d hoped to hear from him. But every day, I was disappointed. I drained my battery so many times, trancing myself with the soft blue glow, willing a message to appear.

I squinted in the dark, malnourished and fading from what I’d endured. Luckily, the fever had crested this morning. I’d managed a warm shower, and changed the bedding. I was weak and wobbly but still clinging to Jethro’s promise.

I’m waiting for you. I’m still here.

The screen lit up. My heart sprouted new life, and I smiled for the first time in an eternity.

Unknown Number: Answer me. Tell me you’re okay. I’m okay. We’re both okay. I need to hear from you. I need to know you’re still mine. 

I dropped the phone.

And burst into tears.

For so long, the world outside Hawksridge had been dark. No messages from my father. No emails from my assistants. I’d been dead already—not worthy of vibrations or chimes of correspondence.

But I wasn’t dead.

Not yet.

No matter how many times I died in my awful nightmares, I was still here.

Jethro had found a way to text me.

Sniffing and swiping at tears with the back of my hand, it took a few minutes before I could corral my fingers into replying.

Needle&Thread:  I’m okay. More than okay now I know you’re okay.

I pressed send.

My sickness and fever no longer mattered. If I ignored it, it would go away. I didn’t have time to be sick now Jethro had given me an incentive to get better.

Is he coming for me?

Could it all be over?

I wanted to say so much, but suddenly, I had nothing to share. I couldn’t tell him about the past few days. I would never share because I didn’t want to hurt him any more than he already was.

My mind skipped backward, forcing me to relive the horror ever since Bonnie showed me Owen and Elisa’s fate.

My door opened.

Jasmine sat with one hand on the doorknob and the other around her wheel rim. “Nila...”

The moment I saw her, I knew something awful was about to happen. My spine locked and the beaded fabric I’d been working on fell from my hands. “No. Whatever it is, I won’t do it.”

She dropped her eyes. “You have no choice.”

I shot to my feet. “I do have a choice. A choice of free will. Whatever that witch thinks she can do to me, she can’t!”

Jasmine huddled in her chair—an odd mix of apologetic frustration. “She can and she will.” Her bronze gaze met mine. “I’ve kept you out of Daniel’s hands but I can’t keep you out of Bonnie’s. I’ve given you all the time I could.” She looked away, her voice filling with foreboding. “It’s going to get worse, Nila. I’ve never been told the exact details of the debts—I’m not a man, and therefore, Bonnie insisted I be protected from such violence—but I do know Cut is planning something big. I need to find a way to save you before...”

I didn’t want to listen but her anguish gave me strength. “You need me to stall by giving in...”

“Yes.” She sighed heavily. “Forgive me, but I have no choice—just like you. No matter what you think.”

I had no reply. But my body did. A last ditch attempt at fleeing.

My feet moved on their own accord, backing away until I stood against the wall. I wanted to scream and fight. I wanted to shove her out the door and lock it forever.

But there was nowhere to hide. No one to save me. Only time could do that. Time that neither Jasmine, Jethro, Vaughn, nor myself had.

“Have you heard from him?” My hands fisted against my denim-clad legs. The large grey jumper I wore couldn’t thaw the ice around my heart. My mind kept splicing images of Jethro and Owen. Elisa and myself.

Their demise had been terrible—especially hers.

Bonnie told me my punishment would begin immediately. She hadn’t lied.

“No.” She rolled further over the threshold. “We agreed to minimum contact. It’s for the best.”

That made sense, even though it was the hardest thing in the world.

If only I could talk to him. It would make me so much braver.

“Nila, come with me. Don’t let her see your fear any more than you have to. It will hurt but it won’t harm you. I give you my word.  You’ve withstood worse.”

“I’ve endured worse because I knew it hurt Jethro to hurt me. It gave me strength in a way.”

She smiled sadly. “I know he’s not here to share your pain, but I am. I won’t leave you.” Swivelling her chair to face the door, she held out her hand. “I’ll take his place. We’ll get through it together.”

My shoulders sagged.

What other choice did I have?

I’d made a promise to remain alive, waiting for Jethro to return. His sister was on my side. I had to trust her.

Silently, I followed Jasmine away from the Weaver quarters toward the dining room. 

We entered without a word.

Jasmine’s wheels tracked into the thick carpet as we made our way around the large table. Unlike at meal times, the red lacquered room was empty of food and men. The portraits of Hawks stared with beady oil eyes as Jasmine guided me to the top of the large space where Cut and Bonnie stood.

They smiled coldly, knowing they’d won yet again.

Between them rested a chair.

Bonnie had said the first punishments would be easier.

Once again, I’d been stupid and naïve.

The chair before me had been used for centuries to extract information and confessions. A torturous implement for anyone—innocent or guilty. It was a common device but absolutely lethal depending on its use.

Did Bonnie suspect I was hiding something?

But what?

Was this her attempt at ripping out my secrets?

She’ll never have them.

My heart thundered faster. My blood thickened in my veins.

The chair wasn’t smooth or well-padded with velour or satin. It didn’t welcome a comfortable reprieve. In fact, the design mocked the very idea of luxury.

Every inch was covered in tiny spikes and nails, hammered through the wood. Seat, backrest, armrest, leg rest. Each point glittered in the late afternoon sunshine. Every needle wickedly sharp, just waiting to puncture flesh.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to hide my terror. Jasmine was right. Their satisfaction came from my reactions. I was stronger than this—than them.

I won’t let you get pleasure from my pain.

“Do you know why you’re paying this toll, Nila?”

My eyes flew to Cut. He stood with his hands by his sides, his leather jacket soaking up the dwindling sun. 

I shook my head. The power of voice deserted me.

All my courage at killing them vanished like a traitor.

“It’s because you must be stripped of your nasty plots and wishes to harm us. It’s because you caused the death of two Hawk men.” Bonnie shuffled closer, rapping her cane against the horrific chair. “Along with the repayment of the Third Debt, you must endure a few extras—to ensure you are properly aware of your place within our home.”

I flinched as Bonnie closed the gap and stroked her swollen fingers along my diamond collar. “You’ve lived in our hospitality for six months. The least you can do is show a bit of gratitude.” Grabbing a chunk of my long hair, she shoved me toward the barbaric contraption. “Now sit and be thankful.”

Jasmine positioned herself beside me, holding out a hand to help me lower onto the spikes. I thanked my foresight for wearing jeans. The thick denim would protect me to a degree.

Trembling a little, I turned around to sit.

Unfortunately, Cut must’ve read my mind. “Ah, ah, Nila. Not so fast.” Gripping my elbow, he hoisted me back up. “That would be far too easy.”

My heart stopped.

Laughing, he tugged at my waistband. “Clothing off.”

Jasmine said, “Father, the spikes will hurt enough—”

“Not nearly enough.” His glare was enough to incinerate her.

Sighing, Jaz faced me. “Take them off.” Holding out her arm like a temporary hanger, she narrowed her eyes. “Quickly.”

Gritting my teeth, I fumbled with the hem of my jumper. I should be comfortable being naked around these people—it’d happened often enough—but being asked to strip brought furious, degrading tears to my eyes.

Breathing hard, I yanked my jumper off and undid my jeans. Shimmying them down my legs, I shivered at the biting air. The dining room had a fire roaring in the imposing fireplace, but the flames hadn’t extinguished the wintery chill.

A resounding thud landed behind me.

Oh, no!

Cut’s eyes dropped to the ruby encrusted dirk lying in full view.

I wanted to curl up and die. I’d become so used to it wedged against my back, I forgot the knife was there.

Cut gave me a sly smile, bending to pick it up.

Quick!

Squatting, I scooped up the blade before he had chance. His eyes widened as I brandished it in his face. “Don’t touch me.”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Nila.”

My mouth watered at the thought of somehow stabbing everyone in the heart all at once.

Jabbing the air between Cut and me, I snarled, “I should’ve done this months ago. I should’ve murdered you the moment I met you.”

His body stiffened. “Just try it.” His eyes flickered behind me. “You have two choices. Try and attack me and pay. Or hand over the knife and pay.”

“I’d rather kill you and win.”

“Yes, well, that will never happen.” Snapping his fingers, he ordered, “Colour, take the knife.”

I whirled around but was too late. Colour, a Black Diamond brother who I’d seen once or twice, yanked the dirk from my hand like a rattle from a baby. My fingers throbbed with emptiness as Colour handed the blade to Cut.

My fight evaporated.

I’d tried.

My one rebellion was over, and what was my reward?

Pain and humiliation.

“Thank you, Colour.”

Colour nodded, retreating back to his hidey-hole by the fireplace. The large rococo style fire-surround hid most of him from view, giving the illusion of privacy.

Cut waved the blade in my face. “Rather interesting piece of equipment to have down your jeans, Nila.” Running the sharp edge over my collar, his face darkened. “Not only are you a troublemaker, but you’re also a thief.”

Placing the dirk down his own waistband, he smiled evilly. “I’ll remember that for future payments.”

Standing in a black bra and knickers, I squeezed my eyes. Nothing was going as I’d planned. Where was my courage—the belief that I would plunge that blade into his heart the moment I had the chance?

My chance was gone.

“Get rid of the bra,” Cut said. “Unless you want me to use the knife to help you.”

My hands flew between my shoulder blades, grabbing the clasp.

Bonnie coughed. “No, I think not. Keep your undergarments on.”

My eyes soared open.

“What?” Cut scowled.

She wrinkled her nose. “Seeing a naked gutter rat will ruin my appetite.”

Cut chuckled. “You have the strangest ideals, mother.”

She sniffed. “Excuse me if I prefer to enjoy my meal without being repulsed.” Swatting her cane at the chair again, she added, “Sit down. Shut up. And reflect on what you’ve done.”

Jasmine nudged me forward, playing the perfect role of enemy.

The cold tightened my skin, flurried my heart, and pinpricked my toes as I bent my knees and sat. I bit back a cry as thousands of nails kissed my butt and thighs.

My legs shook as I lowered myself slowly, doing my best to stay aloft and hovering over the sharp, stabbing needles.

“Stop fighting the inevitable, Nila.” Cut stepped behind the chair.

I tensed.

Then I screeched as he pushed on my shoulders, pressing me cruelly onto the nails. Pulling me back toward him, he wrapped an arm around my chest, hugging me from behind.

His breath wafted hot in my ear. “Hurts, doesn’t it? Feeling thousands of pins slowly sinking into your skin?”

I couldn’t concentrate on anything but the millions of tiny fires slowly worming their way through my flesh.

Bonnie stole my wrists, yanking my arms forward and pushing them against the spiked armrests. The entire chair bristled with armament and agony.

“Stop!” I fought her, but Jasmine took her grandmother’s place, forcing my arm against the nails and wrapping the leather cuffs around me.

She couldn’t make eye contact, fumbling with the buckle. “This isn’t to kill you, so the binds won’t be tight. It’s merely to keep you in place.”

Tears ran unbidden down my cheeks as every inch throbbed with pain and tension. I couldn’t relax—I kept every muscle locked, so I didn’t sink further onto the spikes.

“Don’t fight it, Nila.” Jasmine tested the cuffs before rolling away. “It’ll get easier.”

Easier?

Every inch of my skin smarted. My sense of touch went haywire, flicking from my back to forearms to calves to arse. It couldn’t distinguish which part hurt the most. I couldn’t tell if certain areas bled or pierced or if the nails were blunt with age and only tenderising instead of stabbing.

Either way, it was awful. As far as torture equipment went, I wanted off the chair immediately. I would take the First Debt again because at least the pain came in waves and was over quickly—this...it would strip my mind, throb by throb, until I was a quivering mess of agony.

Panting, I breathed through my nose. My scattered mind bounced like a wayward squash ball, not letting me tame my anxiety.

Cut chuckled as he dropped to his haunches before me. “The beginning is the easy part.” Rising, he pecked my cheek with a gentle kiss. “Just wait and see what’ll happen as the clocks tick onward.”

He looked at Bonnie. “How long did we say, mother?”

Bonnie checked a dainty gold watch around her wrist. “Elisa suffered two hours during dinner.”

Cut grinned. “Perfect. Make it three.”

I slammed back to the present, coughing with a rattling explosion. My fingers rubbed the healing scabs dotted like constellations down the back of my thighs, back, and arms. The sores had switched from blazing to itchy as my body healed, but the remnants of the nails had marked me far more than superficially.

Even now, days later, I still felt the numerous stings.

I fell asleep with phantom nails stabbing me and woke up hyperventilating, dreaming of being trapped in a coffin lanced with millions of needles.

Three hours in that chair had been the worst three hours of my life.

I supposed I should be honoured that they went out of their way to destroy me. I’d proven to be an anomaly, a challenge they hadn’t anticipated. I’d screwed up their grand plans and set in motion things that no one should have to endure.

And that was just the start.

That night, after the Iron Chair, I succumbed to a rattling flu.

I had no reserves. Barely eaten. Lacked sunlight and love.

Living with such evil and negativity stripped my immune system, shooting me straight into chills and body aches.

And there was no one to nurse me better.

Vaughn was banished from my sight. Jasmine was missing.

The rest became a blur as I’d huddled in a sweat-riddled bed and shivered.

My room never rose above a chill. I had no energy to start a fire, and even if I did, I’d been given no fresh wood to start one.

I was cold and hungry and desperately wanted to leave. I tried to remember what life was like before Hawksridge, before Jethro left, before my mother died. But I came up empty. All those happy memories were blank.

Unknown Number: Fuck, I miss you. Knowing you’re okay...I can’t tell you how thankful I am. Is that the truth? Is she keeping you safe?

My heart fell off its pedestal, splattering on the floor. I was okay. I was stronger than I looked, but I wasn’t as brave as I believed.

I coughed again, wracked with sick shivers.

Jethro, I want to tell you everything.

Tell you what you mean to me.

Tell you what they’ve done to me.

I wanted to cry on his shoulder and share my burdens—to eradicate what I’d lived through, so I could let go and forget. Instead, I bottled it up and kept my secrets.

Needle&Thread: Yes, I’m safe. She’s been wonderful. They haven’t touched me. Don’t worry about me. Just get better.

Keeping the truth from Jethro was the least I could do for him. I shuddered, unable to stop the memories of what’d happened once I’d been strapped to the Iron Chair.

The Black Diamond brothers entered an hour into my torture. They watched me with sympathy but didn’t go against Cut’s command to leave me be. Apart from Flaw, I hadn’t spoken to any of the brothers since the shooting. They’d been ordered to keep their distance, cutting me off from any ally I might’ve found.

Dinner was served and I squirmed as my body weight pushed me slowly onto the spikes. The burn of each spread into one blanket of painful horror.

Blood smeared the arms of the chair and I didn’t dare look at the floor to see if I dripped over the carpet. I was hot and cold, covered in sweat and goosebumps. My muscles seized; every twitch sent wildfire through my system.

And then Vaughn arrived.

His eyes met mine.

“Threads!” He almost collapsed in rage. “Fuck! Let her go!” Charging up the room, V moved so swiftly and furiously, he managed to sucker punch Cut in the jaw before anyone reacted.

“V, don’t!” Part of me loved that he’d landed one on Cut. The other was horrified. “I’m okay. Don’t get yourself—”

“Stop hurting her, you fucking bastard!” V swung again but missed as Cut ducked and snapped his fingers for the Black Diamonds to grab V.

“Leave him alone!”

My screaming didn’t do any good.

Commotion shot to mayhem. Men shoved back chairs. Fists swung. Grunts echoed.

“Stop! Please stop!”

They didn’t stop.

Not only did millions of tiny nails trap my body, but I was forced to watch my twin beaten and kicked and left gasping by my feet.

It’d only taken a few minutes.

But the punishment was severe.

I groaned, slapping my forehead.

Stop thinking about it.

After the Iron Chair, I’d been locked in my room with no bandages or medical salve. I wasn’t allowed to see Vaughn, and I’d tended to my injuries in a lukewarm bath that I lacked the strength to climb out of.

I was exhausted.

They’d found a recipe that could well and truly break me forever.

Unknown Number: I’ll be back as soon as I can. Every day I’m getting stronger. Just a little longer, then this will all be over. I promise.

I sighed, curling around the phone. My fever came back, dousing my insides with frigid unwellness. I had every intention of fighting back. I would make them hurt. I will make them pay.

Somehow, I would keep my oath.

But a little longer? It made time sound like it was nothing—such a flippant phrase, a small segment of moments—but to me, it was a never-ending eternity.

I don’t have much longer, Jethro.

Not judging by Bonnie’s antics. Every day she had something worse.

I truly was Elisa, fading hour by hour, wasting away beneath torment.

Swallowing more tears, coughing with wet lungs, I typed:

Needle&Thread: I’ll be here waiting for you. Every night I dream of you. Dream of happier times—times we haven’t been lucky enough to enjoy yet. But we will.

As if fate wanted to banish those dreams, to prove to me that I should’ve given up months ago, it brought forth the memory of what’d happened the day after the Iron Chair.

I’d been summoned to the kitchen, believing Flaw had some good news for me or Vaughn had been given free rein. It’d taken my last remaining strength to shuffle to the kitchen. Perhaps, the cook would give me some warm chicken soup and some medicine for my flu.

Instead, Bonnie found me. “Seeing as you refused to confess your sins on the Iron Chair, you will pay the opposite price.”

“Confess my sins?” I coughed. “There’s nothing to confess. You’re doing this for your own sick pleasure.”

She chuckled. “It is rather pleasurable, I must admit.” Coming forward, she wrapped her fingers around my arm and dragged me through the kitchen to a small alcove where herbs and small plants grew.

My fever turned everything hazy. My blocked nose and stuffed sinuses granted everything a nightmare-like quality.

Cut stepped around the corner, dangling something in his hands. “Good morning, Nila.”

I stiffened, yanking my arm from Bonnie’s hold. Looking at them, I tried to understand what this would entail. Whatever swung in Cut’s hands glinted with wicked silver and barbarism.

My skin still oozed from the Iron Chair. I could barely stand. “I’m sick. For once, have mercy and let me go back to bed.” I coughed to prove my point. “I’m no good if I die before you want me to.”

Cut chuckled. “Your physical health is no longer my primary concern.” He held up the shiny mask, waving it from side to side. His golden eyes gleamed with haughty smugness. “Know what this is?”

Nerves careened down my back. Their role playing and games slowly conditioned me to cower even when standing fierce before them. Jasmine wasn’t here. Daniel wasn’t here. It seemed that the older generation had taken control.

“Stop wasting time.” I coughed again, looking for a way out of the herb alcove. “I don’t care for guessing games—” An explosive sneeze interrupted me. “I just want to be left alone.”

Bonnie swatted the back of my thighs. “None of that backtalk, trollop.”

My heart quivered in fright even as my stomach turned to stone. Standing up to them came with its own kind of torture—a fleeting aphrodisiac of rebellion followed swiftly by suffocating regret.

No matter that I would do everything in my power to kill them, I couldn’t stop their power over me.

They took my knife.

I hated being defenceless.

I hated being so weak by my body’s own design.

Damn this sickness!

Cut came closer. “This, Nila, seeing as you refuse to play along, is known as a Scold’s Bridle.” He held it up, blinding me as a ray of light caught the silver, turning everything white. “It’s given to harlots and gossipers for spreading lies. They’re gagged and their ability to speak is taken away until they’ve learned their lesson.”

Every instinct bellowed to run.

Who was I kidding? I couldn’t run with my lungs drowning in mucous.

Cut moved behind me, bending around to hold the silver mask in front of my face. “Let me explain how it works.”

I staggered sideways trying to dislodge his embrace. How had he trapped me so effortlessly?

The flu turned everything gluggy and thick—slowing time down, using it against me.

My eyes devoured the mask, already understanding. The textbook Vaughn had shown me when we were young had a similar instrument. Unlike the medieval item in the book, this was rather sleek and refined.

It wouldn’t make it any more pleasant.

Two holes for eyes, a hole for the nose, but the rest was solid silver. Where the mouth hole should’ve been there was a silver spike, fairly wide and sharp, waiting to wedge on my tongue to force silence or wretched gagging. The back was curved to cradle its victim’s skull, trapping their entire head in its nasty hug.

Cut rocked against my back, inhaling my hair. “You already know how it works, don’t you?” Bringing the mask closer, he chuckled. “Good. That dispenses unnecessary conversation.”

“Lock her in, Bryan.” Bonnie shuffled forward.

My heart galloped as the silver came closer. “No wait! I won’t be able to breathe! My nose is blocked.”

“Yes, you will. Open wide.” Cut tightened his arms as I tried to run. “Do it. Otherwise, I’ll just hurt you until you do.”

My lungs gurgled as Cut wrangled me into position. I thrashed and moaned, but it didn’t help. “Stop, please!”

The world went dark as the icy metal settled over my face.

“No!” I clamped my lips together, preventing the spike from entering my mouth.

But Bonnie ruined that by swatting my shins with her cane.

“Ahh!” The pain forced my lips wide, welcoming the silver wedge.

I gagged and yanked away, only succeeding in slamming backward into Cut’s arms. The cool metal on my tongue sent spasms through my body. Water sprang to my eyes as I choked.

His elbows landed on my shoulders, keeping me pinned. “Don’t struggle, Nila. No point in struggling.”

I fought.

But he was right.

There was no point.

All I could do was ignore my body’s begging to gag and do my best to breathe.

Bonnie brought the back piece of the mask behind my head, securing it with a tiny padlock by my ear.

The instant it was locked, the worst claustrophobia I’d ever suffered swallowed me whole. Vertigo entered the darkness, spinning my brain, throwing me to the floor. I gagged again.

It terrified. It degraded. I was trapped.

My nose blocked worse.

My head pounded.

My ears rang.

My fear consumed me.

I

Lost

Control.

I screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

Cut let me go.

I no longer saw, heard, or paid attention.

My cries echoed loudly in my ears. I gurgled and coughed and lamented for help. My blocked nose stopped oxygen from entering; I inhaled and exhaled around the silver tongue press, recycling my screams in a rush of poisoned air.

I suffocated.

I panicked.

I spiralled into craziness.

My world reduced to blackness. Hawksridge Hall, with its sweeping porticos and acres of land, condensed into one tiny silver mask. Condensation rapidly formed from my breath. I gagged again and again.

I lost everything that made me human.

My screams turned to whimpers.

I’m going to die.

Each breath was worse than the one before. I fell to my side as vertigo got worse.

Nausea crawled up my gullet.

Do not throw up.

If I did, I’d drown. There was no way out, no mouth piece. Only two tiny nose holes that didn’t provide enough oxygen.

Images of the ducking stool came back.

This was just as bad. Just as heinous.

Claustrophobia gathered thicker, heavier, chewing holes in my soul.

I can’t stand it.

“Let me out!” The words were clear in my head, but the paddle pressing on my tongue made it garbled and broken.

The faint sounds of laughter overrode the hiss and gallop of my frantic breathing.

My hands shot to the fastenings, fighting, tugging. I ripped hair and scratched the side of my neck, doing my best to get free. I broke a nail, scrambling at the padlock. Screams and moans and animal caterwauls continued to escape.

I couldn’t form words, but it didn’t stop me from vocalizing my terror.

Bonnie kicked me, laughing harder. “I think an hour or two in the Scold’s Bridle will do you a world of good. Now be a good girl, and endure your punishment.”

The tiny bell saved me.

My heart asphyxiated all over again, remembering the dense heat, the overwhelming panic of the bridle. I never wanted to relive that again. Ever.

You’re free. It’s over.

I didn’t think it was possible, but the bridle was worse than the chair. Even remembering it caused the walls to warp, squeezing me uncomfortably tight.

I had a new affliction: claustrophobia.

Unknown Number: I sense you’re not telling me something. Remember what I used to call you? My naughty nun? God, I was such an arse. I fell for you even then. I think I was in love with you even before I set eyes on you.

All residual fear and ailments from the past week vanished. Fear was a strong emotion, but it had nothing on love.

Fresh tears cascaded over my cheeks.

You have no idea how much I wish to return to such innocence.

To only suffer worries of fashion lines and unpaid custom orders or whether Vaughn had ordered enough taupe buttons. Such frivolous problems—such easily solved concerns.

Not like what I deal with now.

My heart broke all over again. The punishment of abuse slowly turned my mind and body into rubble, fit only for sleep or death.

Needle&Thread: I love you so much.

Unknown Number: I love you more. I love you with every breath I take and every heartbeat I live. I love you more every day.

Tingles shot from my scalp to my toes.

Needle&Thread: I wish you were here. I’d kiss you and touch you and fall asleep in your arms.

Unknown Number: If you fell asleep in my arms, I’d hold you all night and keep you safe. I’d trespass on your dreams and make sure you know you belong to me and give you a future you deserve.

Needle&Thread: What do I deserve? What sort of future do you envision?

Unknown Number: You deserve everything that I am and more. You deserve happiness on top of happiness. You deserve protection and adoration and the knowledge that we will never be apart. You deserve so fucking much, and I mean to give you all of it.

I sighed, feeling the warmest, softest blanket covering me. Jethro might not be here physically, but spiritually he was. His unwhispered words were hugs, and his concern the sweetest of kisses.

Needle&Thread: Just tell me we’ll get through this. Tell me that we’ll be together and grow old together and build a life that no one can take from us ever again.

His reply took a moment, but when my phone chimed, he somehow gave me everything his family had stripped from me. He deleted the appalling events and gave me hope.

Unknown Number: Not only do I plan on having you by my side forever, but I want you as my wife. I want you as the mother of my children. I want you as my lover and best friend. We’ll get through this. It will all be over soon. And when it is, things will change for the better. I’m going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, Nila, and proving that you took a coward and made him want to be a hero. Your hero.

My lips wobbled with happy tears. I whispered, “I love you, Kite.”

Staring at my phone, I read and reread his messages. As much as I wanted to print them off and sleep wrapped up in his words, I had to delete them.

I couldn’t run the risk of Cut finding them.

I had no choice.

Die or kill.

Fight or defeat.

It killed me to drag the entire conversation to the trash and remove it.

Come save me soon.

Come end this before it's too late.

My happiness suddenly squashed as the walls squeezed in on all sides. My mind ricocheted backward, probing old memories.

I couldn’t move from the floor in the alcove. I didn’t know which way was up. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. All I could do was hold onto the slate tiles and ride wave after wave of vertigo and claustrophobia.

My racing heart deleted years off my lifespan with undiluted panic.

I passed out.

It was a blessing.

By the time Bonnie returned to undo the padlock, I was no longer coherent.

Shaking my head, I rubbed my face.

How many tortures had Elisa suffered before she’d been ‘purified’?

Unknown Number: Goddammit, Nila. I need you so much. I need to show you how much I love you. How much I miss you.

My heart was in pieces without him.

Needle&Thread: I need you, too. So much. Too much. When we’re together again, I’m going to—

A noise wrenched my head up.

No!

My eyes fell on the unprotected door.

Please no!

The one awful thing about being so sick was I’d had no strength to push aside the dresser to keep me safe.

The phone came alive in my hands, claiming my attention.

Incoming call from Unknown Number. Answer?

The device vibrated urgently, begging me to accept its challenge.

Jethro...

My soul wept. I wanted so, so, so much to answer.

But I can’t.

Locking the phone screen, I shoved it under my pillow.

You didn’t delete the last message.

The door swung open.

Too late.

Daniel appeared, gloating and cocky. “It’s time for another game, Nila. And we can’t be late.”