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“LET HER GO.”
Daniel dropped his hold.
I spun to face them. I didn’t know why; I knew what was about to happen and should hide. Hide deep, deep inside. Hide from everything they would do to me.
However, I preferred to stare at the devil than go into this blind. I would rather pay attention, so I knew that I fought. That I’d won against whatever Cut had made me drink. That he hadn’t taken my refusal away from me.
I won’t let myself submit.
I vibrated and throbbed. I still begged for a release.
The drugs from the bonfire ran rampant in my veins. Cut had let me dance. He’d cut the rope from around my wrists and sat beside the fire and watched. At times, I caught him pressing a fist between his legs; others, I thought I witnessed affection on his face.
Every step, I succumbed more and more to the drugs. Every drumbeat, my pussy clenched. If Jethro had touched me, I would’ve dropped to all fours and begged him to fuck me.
I wouldn’t have cared about people or fires or watchful gazes. I would’ve given myself completely in to the fantasy and thrown myself into every debauched act imaginable.
But he wasn’t there.
And buried beneath lust and shameful wetness, I remembered enough to be disgusted at my urges. Below the tremors of salaciousness, I hung on with fingernails so I didn’t double cross every moral I had left.
The more I danced, the more the fire chased away the chill of the night sky, coating my skin with dew.
The sweating and heat helped.
Perspiration helped shed a little of the drug’s claws, bringing me back from untamed animal to a woman I vaguely recognised.
I’d won.
Against the hardest battle of my life.
But now, all that existed was desire and the knowledge there was nowhere for me to run.
Not this time.
No Kestrel to fake it. No Jethro to save me.
Just Daniel, Cut, and me in this flimsy fabric tent.
Drumbeats pounded outside, the occasional whoop and incantation fading into the starlit sky. I’d never battled myself so hard. Never tried to cling to right and wrong when faced with impending doom and wanting so fucking much to give in.
Sex.
They wanted sex.
And whatever they’d given me made me want it bad, too. Terribly bad. Stupidly, fearfully bad.
But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t forget. I wouldn’t forget.
And so my body split further into two, quaking and twitching, demanding I give in.
Cut came closer, cupping my cheeks with his rough hands. My skin sparked beneath his touch and I hated, hated, hated myself for the way I swayed closer, focusing on his mouth and heat and charred smell from the fire.
He chuckled softly, running his thumb over my bottom lip.
It took everything, absolutely everything, inside not to open for him and suck his finger.
“You’re still fighting, little Weaver. I suggest you give in.”
Never!
I moaned as he kissed me, encouraging me to just let go. Cut no longer played by whatever ancient rules that’d bound him. He played a different game. He seemed younger, softer...and the occasional similarity between him and his eldest son shot confusion into my brain like the worst vertigo attack.
He’s not Jethro.
He’s not!
I might’ve given in to the music and danced. I might’ve become one of the clan as I cavorted around the burning blaze. But now I would control myself, even if it meant shackling everything my body wanted and ensuring I was taken against my will.
Rape would destroy me.
But willingly participating...I would rather die a thousand times on the threatened guillotine.
“Do you need me to go into details, Nila?” Cut ran his nose along my jaw. “You know what happened to our ancestor. He was buggered from one a.m. to one p.m. He was shared. There were no rules on what could be done to his body. He was given as a debt.”
I swallowed hard.
The terrible tragedy of what’d befallen his relative helped fortify my resolve.
I leaned away from his touch. “No, you don’t have to. I remember.”
Jethro...
God, I wished he was here.
Kestrel...
He’d saved me last time. He’d remained true and honest and so damn selfless—I’d wanted him in that moment.
I wanted him now.
The drugs made me want anyone as long as I earned pleasure and an end to the incessant drive for a release.
I balled my hands. “Whatever you gave me—I won’t give in to it.”
My eyes glazed as Cut grabbed his cock. “You sure about that?”
Animalistic primal urges overrode my humanity. I was sick. Sick, sick, sick to want this murderer. The man who’d slaughtered my mother. The man who killed my lover and his brother—his very sons.
No!
A wash of clarity helped me stand firm. “Get out! Get out. I won’t enjoy this. I won’t. No matter what you do, I won’t welcome this. You want me to give myself willingly? You want me to love you like I love your son? But I won’t. I never will. You’re a twisted bastard who deserves nothing more than death!”
Silence smothered us as my outburst hung loudly in the tent.
Daniel ran his hand over his face, chuckling. “Oh, fuck, Weaver. Now, you’ve done it.”
Cut didn’t say a word, but the loose enjoyment on his face tightened with rage. Lashing out, he grabbed my hair, jerking my head back. “Love my son? I think you meant to say loved, my dear. He’s dead.”
Shit!
I forced desolation into my gaze, burying the truth deep inside.
Cut’s gaze probed mine, searching for my lies. “You’re strong, I’ll give you that. Stronger than your mother. Do you want to know how she begged me to fuck her? Want to know how wild she was? How she confessed she loved me and would die happily after the night we had together?”
Lies. All lies.
My heart formed a callus, a scar, thickening against his taunts. “I don’t believe you.” The diamonds on my throat pressed heavily on my larynx as Cut yanked me harder.
“You think you’ll fight us, but you won’t. The minute I lay a finger on that wet pussy of yours, you’ll be screaming for more.” Letting me go, I stumbled backward.
Cut prowled to a small table where a decanter of cognac had been delivered. His white shirt clung to his lanky body, almost translucent with sweat from the ceremony. His skin glimmered with dampness and his eyes glowed with sickness as he turned with a poured shot in his hand.
If only he was sick. If only he caught a disease and died.
He raised the goblet in a toast. “To the Third Debt, Nila.” Throwing back a large mouthful and tossing away the glass, he came forward. Reaching into his pocket, Cut pulled out a one pound coin. “Heads or tails, Dan.”
My heart ran wild.
My breasts tingled.
Arousal battered at my hatred, urging me to bow to the false euphoria. I wouldn’t be subdued or seduced by trickery. I would stand and fight.
I will kill you, Cut Hawk. I will kill you!
Daniel rubbed his nape. “Ah, shit. Um...heads. Gimme the queen.”
Cut flicked the coin into the air. Catching it on its downward sweep, he slapped it on the back of his hand and revealed it. His lips pulled back. “Fuck.”
Daniel punched the sky. “Fuck, yes.” Darting forward, he lassoed an arm around my waist. “I guess that means you and I get the first round, Nila.” Possession leaked through his pores.
No!
A bone-deep sob tried to claw free.
Pointing at the tent flap, Daniel growled, “Come back when the screaming stops, Pop. I’ll make sure to leave her alive for you.”
Everything inside me withered like a flower in autumn, dying, dying, dead.
Cut ran a hand over his face. “Motherfucker.” His golden eyes turned dark, but he snarled reluctantly. “Fine.” Storming toward the door, he looked back one last time. “See you in a little while, Nila. Remember what I said—the minute I touch you, you’ll be on your knees begging me to fuck you. Don’t let Daniel steal everything. Save some of your strength for me.”
And then, he was gone.
Leaving me alone with an insane Hawk who deserved to be torn apart and devoured by wolves.
Stay strong. You can do this.
My lungs ceased to work. I wanted the earth to open up and consume me.
“Ready for some fun, Weaver Whore?”
I gritted my teeth, refusing to look at him.
Daniel came closer, capturing my chin, raising my eyes to his. I hated that his touch felt good. That my body craved more. That whatever drugs in my system chipped away my strength, my panic...just waiting for weakness to consume me.
“Don’t touch me.” I tried to remove my face from his grip, but he only pinched me harder.
“Ah, don’t be shy. Now isn’t the time to be shy. Not when I finally get to see what made my brother such a fucking idiot over you.” Trailing his hand down my cleavage, he muttered, “Don’t like your small tits. Perhaps it was your pussy that drugged him, huh?” Pushing me backward, he laughed. “Let’s find out. Shall we?”
I screeched as he shoved me toward the bed.
No torments or games. No history lessons or delays.
He wanted me. He would have me. And then his father would. And I’d be mentally, physically, spiritually broken.
Tears sloshed inside me like a storm upon a sea, smashing against my ribcage.
Don't give in.
Time sped up as unsteadiness latched onto my brain, throwing me to the side. My skin crawled. My blood boiled with misplaced disgusting lust.
Being in this place, this awful foreign place, imprisoned me worse than Hawksridge.
I’m all alone.
Even my body was a traitor as it hummed and melted, ignoring my demands to remain frigid and fighting.
“Get on the bed, whore.” Tossing me onto the mattress, Daniel cackled. The alcohol he’d consumed glazed his eyes, turning his touch sloppy and cruel.
I bounced on the soft bedspread, shaking my head to rid the imbalance. The tent parried and pirouetted, refusing to remain in one place.
Daniel threw himself on top of me. The air erupted from my body with his heaviness.
Instantly, fire exploded through my system. “Get off me!”
“Oh, yes. Scream all you want. No one will care.” His hands fumbled with the waistband of my jeans, tearing at the zipper.
“No!” My voice broke as the scream tore my throat.
“Fuck, that makes me hard.” Daniel licked my cheek, spreading disgusting saliva. “I’ll make sure you prefer me to my father, you can count on it.” His hand soared over my ribcage, latching onto my breast.
I squirmed and kicked and screamed and thrashed.
“Goddammit, you’re wild.”
I kept fighting. My petrified fear buried beneath lawyers of rapidly failing courage. “Stop. Stop!”
Daniel only laughed. “Tire yourself out. There’s a good fucking bitch.” He shoved my shoulders against the mattress, pinning me down. His legs spread over mine. “Been waiting for this day for months, little Weaver.”
His fingers tweaked my nipple and heinous pleasure shot through my system.
Lust.
Desire.
Pleasure.
No.
I could handle fighting. I could handle battling for my life. But I couldn’t handle wrestling with my body. That was supposed to be on my side. Mine. Not his.
Mine.
A surge of power swatted the drug’s effects away; I soared into life. My knee shot upright, colliding with soft balls and hard cock.
Daniel crumpled in slow motion, a guttural groan tearing from his mouth. His skin shot white as pain-perspiration decorated his forehead. Gasping for breath, he fell to the side, releasing me to hold his precious equipment.
Writhing away, I flew to my knees and rolled off the bed. “I hate you! Hate you!”
Somehow, Daniel fought through the agony, hurling himself after me to grapple around my legs.
We tumbled to the tent floor, pricked by twigs and debris beneath the canvas lining.
Daniel turned red. “You fucking bitch!”
His fists pummelled my side, stealing the oxygen from my lungs. I squirmed and kicked, but the liquor in his blood muted whatever I managed to land on him.
Stumbling to his feet, Daniel kicked me in the belly. “That’s for hurting my dick, bitch.”
Agony radiated out as fast as lightning. I groaned, sickness dousing every inch. I curled up, holding my stomach, cursing him in every religion. Somehow, I compartmentalized the pain and lashed out with my foot. My toes hooked around his heel, sending him toppling to his knees.
He grunted, but it didn’t stop him from punching me again in the thigh. “Plenty more pain where that came from. Like it? Do you like it when I kick you like the bitch you are?”
I moaned in torture as he rolled me onto my back. “You’re not going anywhere, whore. Not this time.”
The tent turned fuzzy as the drugs made everything so hot. My muscles were weak from lack of food. I wouldn’t be able to win the fight.
You can win.
I growled, aiming for his nose.
He deflected my hand as if it were nothing more than pollen.
I can’t.
I tried again, slapping his cheek, connecting with his hot flesh.
I can!
Daniel snarled, his fingers fumbling with his belt. “That’s the last time you’ll hit me.” His head came forward, cracking his forehead on mine.
The mutual pain crested through my skull, rendering me numb and lost. Swimming through it, I did my best to scramble backward, kicking him. “Leave me alone!” Somehow, I got free of his putrid embrace, crying in fleeting triumph.
“Fuck!” He grabbed my ankle.
“No!” My skin tingled, awoken by the drugs from the fire. I moaned as another flush of heat and hatred became bedfellows in my heart. Every inch of me was swollen and wet with desire. I’d never wanted sex so much but fought so hard to avoid it.
The awful contradiction stole every last dreg of energy.
He yanked me back, a morbid chuckle on his lips. “Getting tired yet?”
“Never.”
Yes, so much yes.
Tears torrented down my cheeks even though I didn’t permit myself to cry. My body bypassed synapses, defending, slipping into preservation. “I’ll kill you. You’re nothing. Nothing.”
“I’m nothing? I’ll show you fucking nothing.” Rearing upright, Daniel cocked his fist and ploughed it straight into my cheek.
Stars.
Galaxies.
Lions and tigers and bears.
I lost consciousness.
How long, I didn’t know. I floated in an ocean of affliction, vaguely aware as cold air licked around my hipbones, then arse, then thighs, then toes.
Lucidity slammed back as the rotten feel of his fingers on my pussy jerked me awake.
I came to with my jeans ripped away and my knickers wrenched to my knees.
The room spun as my cheekbone shrieked in pain. “No...”
“Yes.” Daniel grinned. “I’m going to show you punishment. I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”
The sound of belt buckles and zippers rapidly gathered my wits.
Fight, Nila.
Time had run out.
Daniel would rape me on the floor of a tent in the middle of their diamond empire. I was alone. If I didn’t win, Cut would take me next, and I would crave the day I paid the Final Debt as I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.
Please...
Sobs wanted to take over rather than fight. I’d burned through everything I had.
How can I win when I have nothing left?
Daniel shifted, jerking down his trousers, freeing his red-angry cock. “We’re in fucking Africa.” Daniel breathed hard, his breath reeking of liquor. “Know what happens in Africa?”
I didn’t respond. I never liked his answers. I hated his answers. Instead, I wriggled, trying to get free.
I’m done.
It was over.
It’s not over!
Memories of altered garments and sewn weapons flooded my mind. How could I forget?
My vision narrowed, searching, flying around the tent.
My jeans.
They rested an arm’s stretch away. In the leg, I’d hidden a scalpel.
The scalpel!
My heart catapulted in my chest with joy. The hidden blade would be my guardian. My saviour. Grunting, I stretched my arm out, fingers fumbling with the denim.
Daniel didn’t care about my attempt to grab discarded clothes. His fingers latched around my collar, shaking me with frustration. “You know, this would be a lot more fun if you played along. Answer me. What happens in Africa, Weaver?”
Spit welled in my mouth—partly from grey sickness and partly from vile disgust. My fingers stretched harder.
I can’t reach.
“Fuck, answer me!”
“I’ll answer you.” Turning my head, I spat in his demonic face. “Shut up! There? That make you happy, arsehole?”
His features contorted, but he didn’t move away. “That’s the last fucking straw. You pushed too far. Gonna do what I’ve wanted for months.” His breathing turned sporadic. “I’m going to break my promise.”
My heart stopped.
What?
I was torn between straining to reach my jeans and paying attention.
Get them. Before it’s too late.
“I promised Cut I’d leave you alive for him. But after that—” He chuckled coldly, his eyes darkening into golden blackness. “After that blatant disregard, I’m going to fuck you dead, you hear me? I’m going to make you scream and cry and beg and pray for motherfucking death.”
He smiled, showing perfect teeth that only childhood braces could deliver. “Get on your knees, bitch.”
Before I could respond, he hooked his fingers tighter in my collar. The thick filigree and impenetrable diamonds were the perfect lasso to jerk me up and flip me over.
No!
My jeans were no longer in reaching distance.
The moment I was on my knees, Daniel spread my legs and grabbed my hips. “Shit, yes.”
I screamed as he dug fingernails into my skin so hard he drew blood.
I gave up trying to reach for help. I gave up trying to remain human. The drugs buzzed in my blood, twisting me with horror and desire. But the desire was no longer for sex or pleasure. Oh, no. This desire was for murder. To rip out his entrails and stuff them in his bleeding mouth. To slice off his cock and present it to Cut as my trophy. This desire was my ignition.
This desire was my annihilation.
Clearheadedness settled into every cell, even as Daniel yanked me back and fisted his cock to thrust inside. Purity and precision slowed my breathing. Certainty and courage stopped my shaking hands. And proficient power guided my fingers to the hem of my hoodie.
I forgot.
But now I remember.
The knitting needle.
The one implement I’d stroked and caressed since leaving Hawksridge. I didn’t need a scalpel. I had something better.
A thirty-five centimetre, single-pointed metal spear.
Closing my eyes, I conjured everything I loved, everyone, every reason why I would survive and Daniel wouldn’t.
Jethro.
Vaughn.
My father.
I would survive for them.
No matter what it takes.
I gave myself over to bloodlust.
I did the one thing I was born to do.
I carried out my promise to my ancestors.
My fingernails were blades as I sliced through the loose stitching and pulled free my weapon of choice. My life might be over. I might be alone. But I wouldn’t die without taking a Hawk with me.
Daniel grunted, lining himself up to rape me.
My skin went cold. My heart went calm. And I fisted my knitting needle.
“You ready for this, Weaver? Ready to be fucked?”
I didn’t reply as his knees touched the back of mine.
I didn’t move as his thighs pressed against mine.
I didn’t flinch as the tip of his cock entered me.
I waited.
I hunted.
I swallowed my tears and fears.
Another inch inside me.
His awareness faded, focusing entirely on sex.
Weaker...weaker...
And still I waited.
Another centimetre of my enemy’s cock inside me.
I paused for the perfect moment.
Now.
I attacked.
Rage stole everything.
I wasn’t afraid of repercussions or consequences.
I wasn’t afraid of getting hurt or dying.
All I cared about was ending this monstrosity before he took my soul.
“Fuck you!” Throwing myself to the side, his cock slipped out and Daniel’s hold fumbled. The ground kissed my shoulder, rattling my teeth as I flipped onto my back beneath him.
For a moment, I drank in the final image I would have of Daniel. He stood poised on his knees, his cock swollen and hungry, his face rageful and surprised. A simple man turned into a despicable creature. He was no longer human. Just the mistake. The unwanted.
I did the world a favour.
I did the only thing I could do.
“Goodbye, Daniel.”
Sitting upright, I hugged his shoulders, lining my trajectory for perfect aim. I wrapped my fingers around the needle; I pressed my face into his throat. Energy exploded. Righteousness detonated. I bared my teeth and bit his neck as my arm soared up, faster and faster, guided by the divine, flying with ghosts of my family, winging with the precision of fate, and pierced my mortal enemy.
The sharpness of the knitting needle slipped as easily and as cleanly as a knife slipped through expensive steak. Up and up, puncturing through his ribcage, slicing through his lung, and finally, finally, finally perforating his heart.
Time stopped.
The world ceased to spin.
Daniel turned from rutting animal to shocked puppet.
His eyes popped wide as the softest cry tumbled from his lips. His gaze met mine. His hand flew to where the knitting needle lanced his side. He was no longer my adversary but merely thread, welcoming my needle, ready to be transformed into a seamstress’s masterpiece.
And then, he toppled.
Falling, falling, falling to his side.
Vertigo teased as death swooped across Almasi Kipanga and whipped into the tent. My wrist twisted as I fell with him, never letting go of the needle. I rolled, straddling him, forcing the weapon further into his heart. I almost lost my grip as he bucked and lurched, but I didn’t let go. Using two hands, I pushed down. Harder. Harder.
Die, Daniel. Die.
I’d researched how to take a life while existing at Hawksridge. I’d read articles, watched examples, planned the perfect murder. To puncture a heart didn’t guarantee death. A ‘stiletto’ type perforation could be survived.
I had no intention of letting Daniel survive.
Locking my knees either side of his chest, I ripped the needle free.
An agonising groan came from his chest as blood oozed from the hole.
Daniel’s stupor fell away. His hands reached for my throat, his fingers shaking and weak as his blood pressure dropped from the orifice gushing in his chest. His brain starved for oxygen the longer his heart bled. He only had seconds before the machine of his body shut down.
His arms flailed. His palm struck my cheek, desperate to hurt.
Tears spurted and pain smarted, but I didn’t move. I wouldn’t have the power to fight him if his body hadn’t turned traitor, poisoning him from the inside out. But right now, I had all the power in the world.
“You fucking cu—” He coughed, his fingers slipping in their attempt to curl around my neck, grasping my collar instead. The impenetrable diamonds kept me safe from being throttled as I arched my arm and prepared to complete my final strike.
“Die.” The needle glistened with dripping crimson as it hurtled through the air and kissed his skin again. The wickedly sharp point crunched its way through flesh and fat, returning to lodge in his most important organ.
Daniel howled, his torso thrashing, face straining. He hit me, struck me, tried to knock me over. But I had an anchor—the needle. I held on, pushing down with all my might driving the end home.
“You can’t stop me.”
He bellowed as the needle tip slid deeper, deeper, past gristle and bone, impaling my victim inch by inch. He twitched and bucked, his fingers unable to snare as his nervous system shut down.
The wet squelch of my needle ripping another hole in his heart brought rushing nausea, but I didn’t falter. All masterful killers knew to make the result permanent, dedication and desire had to be invoked.
I was dedicated.
I desired freedom.
I would finish this.
Holding the base of the needle, I twisted it like a corkscrew.
“Ah!” Daniel jerked. His arms fell to his side, scrabbling at the needle, but it was too late. Adrenaline would keep him animated for another few seconds, but it was already done.
I took his life, not with horror or regret, but with no mercy and complete acceptance.
A life for a life.
He owed me that.
Watching him succumb iced my blood, turning me into a ruthless executioner. His golden eyes met mine, gasping for hope and help. His motions turned languid and dull, a broken pawn, never to live again.
“How does it feel, Daniel? To know you’ve lost?” I gasped, but my nerves remained calm. “How does it feel to know a Weaver took your soul?”
He never had the chance to answer. His face froze of vitality. His breath wheezed, his heart stopped, and in those final seconds before his soul leapt free, he snarled with sinister hate.
Then...emptiness.
There were no longer two people in my tent, only one. Just me.
Just me.
I killed him.
As if the universe rejoiced in one less monster breathing its air, a lion bayed on the dawn’s horizon. Daniel’s blood slowly seeped in an odd little trickle around my needle. Weeping wetly and warmly, staining his chest like spilled wine.
He twitched.
I rejoiced.
I’d killed my first Hawk.
Daniel...
...
was dead.
