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“COME HERE, CHILD.”
All I wanted to do was escape, to be alone so I could drop the mask of defiance and indifference. It took every effort to come across contrite and fearful but not guilty and sinful.
Daniel’s death glowed inside me, giving me power. But I couldn’t deny I was tired. I needed to rest...in case I said something stupid and escalated my death from tomorrow to today.
Jethro...keep breathing.
Every time I thought of him, the image of dank mines and oppressive walls came back. I hated him trapped down there, alone, hurting.
I knew so much now. I knew about Mabel and William. I knew a secret both Bonnie and Cut didn’t know.
The secret burned a hole in my soul because what good was a secret if I died with it—especially when it would grant pain to hear it.
If I tell her, I could kill her before she tells anyone else...
My heart skipped.
Yes, I like that plan.
Bracing my shoulders, I moved toward Bonnie. She’d escorted me into her quarters, ferrying me into the lift I assumed Jasmine used to move around. I’d never been in the silver box and hated travelling even a small distance with Bonnie in such a tight space.
Jasmine.
Does she know I’m back?
Could she sense her brother’s predicament? Was she like Vaughn and in-tune with her sibling’s well-being?
Vaughn.
Could he tell I’d been hurt? Where was he? The entire drive from the airport, I’d feared he would be at Hawksridge, firing cannons and charging with some fictional cavalry to rescue me.
But he wasn’t.
I was both glad and heartbroken.
Jethro couldn’t save me this time. I would do my best—I wouldn’t die without a fight—but what if it wasn’t enough? I was more alone here than I was at the mine. At least there I was surrounded by strangers. Here, I was surrounded by enemies.
Stop that.
It took every last reserve, but I shoved my fears deep, deep inside and embraced antagonising pompousness.
Bonnie expected me to be as broken as my arm.
She was very much mistaken.
Cocking my chin, I pranced toward her. “Did you miss me?” I eyed up her quarters. “Last time I was in here, I seem to remember I taught you seamstresses are better than flower arrangers.”
Bonnie’s rouge-painted cheeks whitened. “And I seem to recall I showed you what happened to Owen and Elisa and proved Jethro played into the hands of fate. He’s dead because of you. Congratulations.”
Goosebumps darted over my skin. I probably shouldn’t but Cut would tell her. I wanted to be the one to deliver the news. “He’s not dead. He’s alive and coming for you.”
Wishes were free. Threats were cheap. I could taunt her even knowing Jethro remained bound to a chair and lorded over by Marquise.
She fisted the top of her cane. She didn’t break decorum, merely looking a little ruffled and a lot annoyed. “I highly doubt that. How is he still alive? What exactly is the meaning of this nasty business?”
I glided forward. “You don’t deserve to know.” The pictures of Owen and Elisa still graced the walls. The overwhelming perfume of her flower arrangements poisoned the air.
My skin crawled with how much I despised her.
Die, witch. Die.
Bonnie came closer, her cane sinking into the carpet, her red lipstick once again smeared on pencil thin lips. “You look at me as if I’m the devil. You’re such a stupid child. Go on, you have my permission. What do you see when you look at me?”
My mouth parted, sensing a trap.
She waved her stick. “Go on. I want to know.”
I balled my hands, rising to her challenge. “Fine. I see a twisted, old woman who’s controlled her son and grandsons with no mercy. I see a soulless creature who doesn’t know the meaning of love. I see a scorned hate-filled Hawk who never understood the true value of family.” My voice lowered to a hiss. “I see a walking dead woman.”
She chuckled. “You have more perception than I gave you credit for.” Sniffing, she looked down her nose. “You’re right on some accounts. I have controlled my son and grandsons because, without me, they wouldn’t have the discipline required to maintain the Debt Inheritance and future responsibilities of this family.”
“When you’re dead, your legacy will die with you.”
“Yes, perhaps.” She smiled. “But you’ll be dead long before me, Ms. Weaver. Perhaps you should remember that so you don’t forget your place.” Stabbing her cane into the carpet, she sneered. “Now, enough, what do you have to say for yourself?”
My hands fisted. I stared at the flower arrangement on the trestle by the door. I’d had to stand there and listen to her high-class airs and demands, seething while she speared lilies and roses into oasis foam.
I hated the perfection of lilies. I despised the bright red of roses.
My temper swirled out of control. “I’ll tell you what I have to say, old witch.”
Bonnie froze. “What did you just say?”
If I did this, there would be no turning back.
I would die tomorrow.
But I could live today.
I could achieve more in one act of cruelty than I ever could in a coffin.
No one knew when death was coming.
I supposed I was lucky in a way—knowing the grim reaper waited for me gave me a certain kind of freedom. The knowledge gave me power to face my nightmares rather than run.
Plucking the vase with my good hand, I held the bushel of flowers as a weapon. Petals fell by my feet, dripping slowly in the heat of her boudoir. “You make me sick.”
Her eyes flared. “Put that down this instant.”
Tucking the arrangement haphazardly into my sling, I stalked closer. Wrenching the head off a red rose, I threw the petals in her direction. “You set a bad example for all grandmothers around the world.”
She stood taller but stepped backward. Not wanting to give up ground but wary at the same time.
I threw another destroyed rose in her direction. “You’ve polluted this earth for long enough.”
She lost to my invasion.
Her cane tapped for traction as she scuttled backward.
The door soared open and a Black Diamond brother came in.
Shit!
I breathed hard, fistful of petals and a standoff with Bonnie Hawk.
Instantly, Bonnie’s face transformed into feral confidence. “Ah, Clarity. Good timing.” She pointed her stick at me. “Kindly remove the vase from Ms. Weaver’s control.”
“Right away, ma’am.” I had no hope of holding onto it one-handedly as he snatched it from my sling. He was smaller than Marquise but had the same evil glint and malicious satisfaction. His bald head shone with the sconces around the room.
He didn’t look at me again as he placed the flowers back on the trestle. “You summoned me?”
Bonnie nodded, smoothing fly-away hairs from her chignon. “Go and fetch the Dremel and a bucket of water and vinegar.”
He cocked his head in my direction. “You okay alone?”
“I’ll be fine. Go.”
Clarity nodded. “On it.” He left, closing the door behind him.
I hated she trusted she could be in the same room with me—even after my outburst. I hated I came across so weak that she didn’t feel she needed protection.
Make her regret that.
“Trust me alone with you now?” I tilted my head. “Rather a stupid thing to do, don’t you think?”
My hands curled as thoughts of killing her ran wild. I had nothing to lose anymore. Jethro was in Africa. I didn’t know where Jasmine was. V was hopefully back with Tex. And Kes was in the custody of doctors and nurses. We were scattered to four corners, no longer touching but still linked.
I could kill Bonnie before Cut killed me.
Bonnie smirked. “Child, you have a broken arm, most likely a fever, and death looming on your horizon. I have no need to fear a guttersnipe like you. You just used whatever energy you had. You can’t deny it. You’re positively dripping with exertion and fatigue.” Turning her back on me—showing just how little she viewed me as a threat—she snapped, “Now, after that highly inappropriate incident, return to the subject. What about Jethro?”
“What about him?”
She cleared her throat angrily. “Am I correct in assuming he’s still alive?”
Rage spread like wildfire through my system. I might not have knitting needles or scalpels, but I couldn’t stomach this old bitch any longer. “Yes, as a matter of fact. He is alive, and I was telling the truth. He’s on his way to kill you all.”
She flinched, unable to hide her sudden suspicions. “I don’t believe you.”
I shrugged. “You don’t have to believe me for it to be true.”
For a second, silence was a third entity in the room before Bonnie laughed. “Cut would’ve mentioned such a thing. You’re lying. Didn’t your mother ever tell you liars go to hell?”
“Was she supposed to tell me that before or after you killed her?”
Bonnie tensed. “You’re getting mighty bold for a Weaver about to die.”
I drifted forward. “Bold enough to kill you before I go?”
Say no so I can prove you wrong.
One Hawk soul tallied my own. I wanted two. No, I wanted three before I was through.
The door sailed open, shattering the tension between us. The Black Diamond brother strolled in and placed a bucket of water, sour smelling vinegar, and a power tool on the flower-arranging bench.
Glancing at Bonnie, he wiped his hands on his jeans. His bald head caught the rays of late-morning sunshine.
My body clock was so screwed up; I didn’t know if it was meant to be night or day, sleep or awake.
“Need anything else, ma’am?”
Bonnie pursed her lips, glancing at me with a mixture of wariness and disdain. “Yes, stand by the door. Don’t leave.”
I laughed softly. “Afraid of a Weaver, after all.”
Bonnie snapped her fingers. “Shut that trap and come here. I have work to do.”
Damn.
Now I had an audience; my plans shifted slightly.
Be patient.
She’d grow cocky again and send the brother away. And when she did...
Playing along, for now, I moved toward the table. “What are you going to do?”
She didn’t reply as she shuffled toward a chair, dragged it closer to the bench, and perched on the padded seat. “What do you think, you stupid girl? You’re carrying our money. I want those diamonds. Your arm is currently worth more than your entire family history.”
“I don’t believe that. My family earned its wealth through skill and hard work. Weaving and sewing for dukes and duchesses. We didn’t lower ourselves to smuggling stones and calling it hard work.”
She spluttered. “Soon that tongue of yours will no longer be attached.”
“Why? You plan on cutting that off along with my head?”
She smiled coldly. “Such a temper.”
I smirked back. “I’ve learned from the best.”
I would never bow to her again. Never.
Bonnie huffed, busying herself with an attachment for the small power tool. “Stand here.”
Looking over my shoulder, I calculated how much time I would have before the brother managed to stop me. If I slashed her throat with a pair of scissors, would I have enough seconds or not?
Mulling the problem of murder, I moved to where she pointed.
“Don’t move.”
I didn’t move; too consumed with my own ideas to care about hers.
Bonnie grabbed the Dremel in shaking, arthritic hands and switched on the battery-operated machine. A loud buzzing filled the room as she ordered me to remove my sling and place the cast on the table.
The ache in the broken bone had faded a little, or maybe my body had become fed up with letting me know it was hurt. Either way, I did as she asked. Obeying for now—purely biding my time.
How should I do it?
Cutting shears to her jugular?
A fire poker to her heart?
My fingers around her throat, strangling, strangling?
I flinched as the sharp teeth of the Dremel chewed through the cast, removing the heat and itch. It didn’t take long for Bonnie to slice from wrist to elbow. Her hands shook, trying to pincer it open—her age not granting enough power to break the mould.
“Open it,” she commanded, growing weary. A sheen of sweat covered her brow, a grey tinge painting her skin.
My heart skipped to see her struggling. Her heartbeats were numbered. My mind started a countdown.
One beat.
Two beats.
Three beats.
Four.
My hand was steady as I cracked open the cast, almost as if contemplating murder worked wonders for my peace of mind. I winced as the cast fell away, destroying whatever support I’d had.
Once the pieces hit the table, Bonnie immediately scooped them into the bucket. They sank into the water and vinegar mixture.
Air bubbles popped on the surface, faster and faster.
She caught me looking. “Allow me to teach you a few things before your final hour. The vinegar dissolves the plaster. Once it’s reduced to nothing but sludge, the water will be sifted, any wayward diamonds scooped from the bottom, and washed in preparation to go to Diamond Alley for processing.”
She snapped her fingers. “Give me the rest of the cast. I know the pouches are hidden in the padding.”
Fifteen beats.
Sixteen beats.
Seventeen beats.
Eighteen.
Pain amplified as I slipped out of the cushion and handed over the plastic tray. My arm held marks and indents from the padding, red from the cast’s itch. However, the swelling hadn’t gone down. An angry bruise already marred my skin, black and purple and blue.
Immediately, she scooped the diamonds out and placed them beside the bucket. “Once they go to Diamond Alley, then where do you think they go?”
Nursing my arm, I tested my fingers. They worked but with no power or grip. If I had any chance at killing her, I’d have to work through the agony and force my limb to obey. Otherwise, I wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Well, Ms. Weaver?” Bonnie slapped the table. “I asked you a question. Answer it.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. You mistook my disinterest for attention.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t care.”
“You should.” Prodding my vulnerable break, she hissed. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”
Flinching away, I fought the pain as I grabbed the edge of the table. A horribly frustrating and terribly timed vertigo wave attacked me. I hung my head, anchoring my feet to the floor, riding out the vicious swell.
She chuckled as the greyness subsided, leaving behind the serendipitous knowledge that Bonnie’s flower shears rested only a finger breadth away.
Scissors.
Blood.
Death.
She didn’t notice my sudden hope and fascination with the weapon within reach.
Wrapped up in her own importance like a fluffing peacock, she looked at the brother by the door.
She pointed at the bucket and pouches. “Take those downstairs and make sure each diamond is accounted for.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll know if any go missing and you’ll be subjected to a cavity search once the diamonds are bagged and labelled.”
The man came forward, cringing a little at the thankless task and the reward he had to look forward to once completed. “Yes, ma’am.”
I held my breath.
The brother grabbed the items and departed through the door.
She made him leave.
We’re alone.
Thirty.
Thirty-one beats.
Thirty-two.
Thirty-three heartbeats.
Stupid, stupid Hawk.
Slowly, I fisted the shears with my unbroken arm, wrapping tight fingers around the handles.
Bonnie didn’t notice, so consumed with her own self-importance as she stood and brushed plaster dust from her blood-red skirt.
Blood-red.
The same colour she wore at the dice game a few days ago.
My fury fired and I held up the twin blades. “You asked me before if my arm hurt. I’ll now ask you a similar question. Do you think this will kill you if I lodge it in your heartless chest?”
She scooted off her seat, shuffling backward. “Drop it, Ms. Weaver.”
I advanced, brandishing my weapon. “No.”
Her mouth opened to scream.
Fifty-two.
Fifty-three heartbeats.
I’d lost my opportunity last time.
I’d been too slow. Too weak.
I had no intention of screwing this one up.
I charged, stopping her before she could make a sound.
I slammed my palm over her mouth, tackling her. My break bellowed and my good fingers weakened around the pilfered scissors, but I didn’t let her go. She tripped, but I managed to right us. Bolts of agony and shards of pain drenched my nervous system from my uncasted arm.
“Ah, ah, ah. I think silence is better in this newly developed situation, don’t you?” My vocabulary mimicked hers, thriving off the power of manhandling the wicked Hawk witch.
Bonnie’s papery breath fluttered over my hand as her nostrils flared.
She struggled. But her brittle bones were no match for my rage. Her eyes tried to hurt me with unspoken curses, but I wouldn’t put up with it anymore.
In a burst of power, she ripped out of my hold, swatting my broken arm.
I groaned in agony as she sucked in a breath for help.
I had two choices. Let her scream, give into the overwhelming pain, and let this end without victory, or fight through everything and win.
I fought.
Tackling her again, I didn’t care about my arm as I wrapped the broken one around her tiny waist and slapped my other hand over her lips.
Seventy-four.
Seventy-five.
Seventy-six heartbeats.
She folded as delicately as her beloved flower petals, crashing to the floor. I didn’t try to protect myself. I didn’t relish the impact or brutal pain.
I fell with her.
Agony I’d never felt before ripped through my bones.
I bounced on her decrepit body, squashing her into the carpet. I gasped, willing myself to keep going. “Not this time, Bonnie. You don’t get to win this time. This time...it’s my turn. It ends here. Just us.”
I was better than this. Better than her and all Hawks combined.
I would take this grandmother’s life, and I would enjoy it.
She was frail, ancient—the matriarch of a power-crazed house. Yet she was just human—same as me, same as Jethro, same as every person on this planet.
She wasn’t immortal or scary.
She’s already dead.
She batted at my hold with wrinkled hands, her strength rapidly dwindling.
“You deserve to die, Bonnie.” I pushed her further into the carpet. “You asked me when I came into this room what I saw when I looked at you. It’s my turn to ask you.” I held her wriggling form, breathing hard. “What do you see when you look at me?”
Your killer?
Your demise?
Not letting her answer, I snarled, “I’ll tell you what you should see. You should see a girl who’s reached the end of her limit. A girl who won’t hesitate to kill. A girl who fully intends to survive this massacre and burn your legacy to the ground.”
Her eyes shadowed with fear.
She fought me—surprisingly strong, but she couldn’t defeat the cold animosity siphoning through my veins. My rage turned into something not entirely sane as I stared into Bonnie’s terrified gaze. “Want to know a secret?”
Her nose whistled as she sucked in ragged breaths around my silencing palm.
“I know something you don’t know.” I had meant to kill her quickly, but taunting was too much fun. I wanted to do to her what she’d done to my family and me.
A dose of her own medicine.
And my secret about Daniel had to be shared. Who better than his grandmother who would soon be joining him in the afterlife?
Her hazel eyes glared into mine. I understood her silent message. You’ll die because of this.
I giggled, hovering over her. “I’m dead already, so what does it matter if I take you with me?”
The fight left her. An eerie calm replaced it instead. Her face filled with conversation, dragging curiosity through my blood.
Dammit.
Despite my need to end her, I had an intolerable desire to hear her final words.
“Don’t scream and I’ll let you speak.”
She nodded.
Was it stupidity or possibly insanity making me trust her? Whatever one it was, I removed my hand.
Her face turned to the side, sucking in oxygen, her white chignon falling apart thanks to the carpet.
I squeezed her tiny body with my knees. I was her death shroud. A crow hovering for murder.
One-hundred and four.
One-hundred and five.
One-hundred and six heartbeats.
“You’re not stupid, child. You know you’ll pay for this the moment Clarity returns. There are worse things than death. Haven’t you learned that yet?”
“I know.”
“Then get off me and I’ll make sure they don’t maim you too much.” Her smile was evil personified. “However, wait another moment longer, and I’ll personally tear you limb from fucking limb.”
The curse fell from her red painted lips.
I smiled, cocking my head. “Not yet. I want answers first.”
“I’ve given you plenty of answers.”
“No, that was convoluted history seen through your twisted eyes.”
She snorted.
“I want to know why you are the way you are. Why you’re ludicrously set on an ancient vendetta. Are you just mad and passed that defective gene onto your son or did you grow into this despicable creature?”
“You stupid, stupid girl. I’ve helped keep this family together. There is nothing wrong with loving blood over others.”
“Even murder?”
She grinned, showing yellowing death and bad breath. “Especially murder.” She raised her head off the ground, bringing our eyes closer together. “Especially your bloodline’s murder. You owe us.”
“What did we ever do to you to deserve such barbaric treatment?”
“You know what!”
“No, I don’t. I will never understand because there is nothing rational to understand. It’s just a sickness inside you that needs to end.”
She coughed, her ancient lungs rattling. “You don’t know a thing about me.”
“Tell me. I’m giving you the opportunity, right now.” I glared. “I want to know. This is your last chance.” A contorted smile spread my lips. “Call it your last confession. Purge your sins, Bonnie, because I’m sending you to your grave—secrets told or not.”
No fear shone on her face, only black rebellion. “I have nothing to confess.”
“Bullshit.”
I don’t have time for this.
I wanted to know Bonnie’s tale. I wanted to try and understand why someone would go to such lengths. But I wouldn’t sacrifice my only opportunity to kill her.
“You don’t want to talk? Fine. I changed my mind.” Gritting my teeth against another influx of pain, I grabbed her scarf—the pretty silk decoration to match her despicable outfit—and tugged it tighter around her neck. “Want to know what I promised myself when I first came to your home and was told what would become of me?”
She pushed at my hands, sending a shard of agony down my break as I slowly tightened the scarf. Her eyes bugged wider and wider.
“I made an oath to be the last Weaver stolen. At times, I didn’t know how I would honour that vow. But now...I do.”
She begged for air, her lips gasping. I wasn’t throttling her...yet, but the fear of strangulation sent droplets of panic across her overly powdered face.
The stench of rose water and summery perfume gave me a headache, but nothing would stop me doing this.
I lessened my hold a little. “Now, before I go too far. Do you want to know what I know or would you rather die clueless?”
Are you sure this is wise?
My arm throbbed as I doubted my actions.
Daniel’s death wasn’t only my secret. Jethro would be implicated, too. I couldn’t risk his life if Bonnie told—
Told!
I laughed out loud. Who is she going to tell? She’ll be dead within moments...
Something corrupted inside me. Something I didn’t want to acknowledge. Straddling Bonnie, I was cold-hearted and focused—more Hawk than Weaver and ready to bloody my hands for revenge.
“No, you have nothing of value to tell me. Get off me, you heathen.” Bonnie tried to buck me off, but her ninety-plus years meant it was like pinning down a fluttering leaf.
I bent further. “I know where Daniel is.”
She went deathly still.
“Do you understand?” I bared my teeth. “Do you get what I’m telling you?”
Her gaze narrowed, disbelief shadowing them. “You’re saying you killed my grandbaby?”
“I’m saying he hurt me and paid the price.”
Bonnie shifted, trying to kick beneath me. The grey tinge staining her face slowly spread over her cheeks and throat. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” I laughed softly. “What if I explained a bit more? What if I told you a bed-time—? No, a kill-time story. And prove I’m telling the truth?”
No reply.
Digging my knees, imprisoning her skirt tighter, I wrapped her scarf around my fist. “He won the coin toss against Cut. He got first right to rape me. Rape. A word so abhorrent, a family should disown any offspring who would ever do such a thing. And yet, you encourage them. You like your sons and grandsons to take what isn’t theirs to take.
“Well, Daniel would’ve made you proud that night. He hurt me. Kicked me. Knocked me out for a few moments. But he didn’t understand how powerful the will to live is, or the single-minded determination sheer hate can deliver.
“He did take me—just a little—and I let him. Does that shock you? That I didn’t fight the final part when he invaded my body just enough to taint my soul?”
Bonnie swallowed, her breathing erratic, her chest lurching beneath my hold.
“I let him think he’d won, but really, I guided him to his death. I’d come prepared and I had my weapon of choice within my grasp. While he focused on rape and pleasure, I turned cold and ruthless.”
I tugged the scarf. “I hugged him, you’ll be glad to know that. I hugged your grandson as I jammed my metal knitting needle through his heart.”
Bonnie sucked in a noisy breath. “No...”
“Oh, yes. I took great satisfaction driving that needle through Daniel’s soulless chest. He didn’t see it coming. He was too arrogant to notice until it was too late.” My mind skipped back to the tent, recalling the last breath, the final topple of his corpse. “It was over so fast.”
Bonnie spluttered, “But, they—they haven’t found his body. You’re lying. He’s alive. I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to believe me. It’s the truth.” I smiled brutally. “Only you know what really happened. Cut suspects me, but he has no proof.”
“But how...” The muscles in her neck stood out, straining against translucent skin. “How did you hide his body?”
Even on her back, with death hovering over her, Bonnie remained frosty and aloof. If I didn’t hate her, I might’ve respected her. She was the same formidable force Mabel Hawk had been. The same invincible dowager.
I stroked her papery cheek. “I didn’t.”
She glowered. “Then it can’t be—”
“A Hawk did.” I twisted her scarf a little more.
More sweat dotted her forehead. Her fingers scrabbled at the obstruction.
“The Hawk who’s in love with me and is fully on my side.”
Her eyes popped wide, then glared with the hate of a thousand hells. “Jethro.”
“Yes, Jethro...Kite. The man I agreed to marry.”
Sharing my secrets even to a gnarly old cow lightened my heart. In two breaths, I’d admitted to murder and marriage. Not exactly two subjects that went hand in hand.
But they do in this case.
Without murder, Jethro and I would never be allowed to get married. We’d never be allowed to live.
The deadline of my own demise tried to shred my confidence. I might be the killer currently, but soon, I would be back to being the prey.
Spittle flew from Bonnie’s lips. “Impossible. Jethro is loyal. He knows his responsibilities—”
“Responsibilities?” I laughed in her face. “Your son shot him. That loyalty died the moment you had him killed in cold blood. We’re together. Against all of you.”
Bonnie shuddered. “Never. A Hawk would never work with a Weaver.”
“Lies. I know more of your history now. I know that Hawks gave Weavers leniencies throughout the years. I also know there was more than one generation who tried to stop this ludicrous debt.”
“You know nothing, you insolent child.”
My heart raced as I shook my head. Short black hair curtained my cheeks, giving the illusion we were already in a coffin, blocked off from the world.
“I know Jethro walked in and saw his brother dead. I know he helped me clean up. I know he—”
“How that boy is still alive is beyond me.” Bonnie interrupted me as if she couldn’t stand to hear more. Perhaps she did care, after all. “It’s an abomination of nature.”
My fingers tightened. “No, I’ll tell you what’s the abomination. That’s you. You’re the abomination. You twisted your family into criminals.”
I waved at the room, the majestic Hall, the entire Hawksridge estate. “This is more than most people will have in their entire lives. You have everything, yet you seek to destroy everyone.”
I rushed my parting words. “Once Jethro arrived, he helped me dispose of Daniel. We took him outside the fence of Almasi Kipanga. We left him on the plains...”
Understanding etched Bonnie’s grey-washed face.
“You know, don’t you? You know what happened from there.”
Her pallor turned sickly, her lips tinting blue. “They ate him.”
I nodded. “They ate him. Piece by piece. Chunk by chunk. Daniel no longer exists. Just like you will no longer exist.”
My arm pushed harder, pressing her against the carpet. “I’ve killed your grandson, but I haven’t finished.”
Bonnie tried to yell.
I clamped a hand over her lips. “Ah, no bringing attention to us. I haven’t told you the best part yet.”
She shook her head, trying to free her mouth.
“I’m going to kill your son. I’m going to ensure your mad family tree dies. Only sane Hawks will continue. I’m going to kill Cut. I don’t know how, but I will. The only one who will pay the Debt Inheritance is him.”
Her struggles became frantic.
I held her down, riding her like she was a bucking bronco. I waited for her to tire herself out so I could look her in the eye as I strangled her. Only...she never tired.
Her body moved inhumanely, twitching like the undead, knocking me off her with super strength. Her gaze locked with mine; she stiffened and bowed. Her right arm flailed outward and the ire in her gaze changed to terror.
My stomach tangled as her entire body scrunched up in agony.
Shit.
Four-hundred and five.
Four-hundred and six.
Four-hundred...and seven...heartbeats.
She’s having a heart attack.
Seconds whizzed past as the knowledge sank deep.
No!
Fate stole her death away from me.
I wanted to take it.
Her heart.
Her life.
She owed me.
But the very thing I’d stabbed in Daniel was now failing in Bonnie.
Thump—thump. Thump...
“Damn you, Bonnie.” I climbed to my feet, standing over her with the flower shears. I’d wanted to capture her soul as it escaped her body but destiny hadn’t judged me worthy. Perhaps claiming Daniel’s soul was all I was allowed. Bonnie’s belonged to more powerful entities.
The ghosts of my ancestor’s filled her chest cavity, slipping into heart chambers, blocking veins and arteries.
Her back arched as if an exorcism was performed. She reached for me. The greyness of her face slipped straight into starch white. “He—hel—help...”
“No...”
I backed away.
I wasn’t worthy enough to take her life, but I would watch every moment. I would stand vigil as she passed away at my feet and would cherish the moment when she existed no more.
But then the door swung in.
The fucking door swung and Cut entered.
He stormed into the room. Summoned by deep family bond, his posture switched from confident and assured to frozen in shock. His eyes bounced between me standing over his mother with sharp scissors and Bonnie convulsing on the floor. His eyes glittered, his face arranging into symptoms of disbelief, shock, and outrage.
How long did it take someone to die of cardiac arrest?
Die, Bonnie. Die.
The mantra repeated from when I’d killed Daniel.
Die, Hawk. Die.
“Fuck!” Cut launched into action, sprinting across the boudoir and slamming to his knees beside his mother.
She rattled and chortled, breathless and wheezing. Her eyes begged for help while her heart suffocated.
“Hold on. Hold on.” Raising his voice, he screamed, “Someone call a fucking ambulance!”
No one replied. No Diamond Brothers spilled into the room. No one to take orders.
I just stood there.
A morbid spectator as Bonnie faded from this world.
“Call a fucking helicopter!” Cut didn’t seem to notice his orders fell on deaf ears. I’d never seen him so normal. So afraid and lost.
I paced back and forth, hugging my smarting arm, hoping no one heard his commands. An ambulance would be too slow...but a helicopter? That might be too fast.
Die faster, Bonnie. Faster.
And fate listened.
Life chose its victor.
Me.
Thump...thump-thump—thump.
Heartbeats failing.
Heartbeats ceasing.
Cut cradled his mother as she quickly lost the elderly crone persona and tumbled into an emaciated corpse.
My secrets dying with her.
My sins silencing with her.
However, Bonnie didn’t go quietly. She gave a parting gift, granting her final breath to me, sending me straight to damnation.
“She—” Bonnie gasped. “Dan—Dan—Daniel. She—”
Cut wiped her forehead, pushing away soaked strands of white hair. “Shush, save your strength. The doctors are coming.”
Bonnie spread her lips, lipstick staining her teeth. She knew as well as I did she wouldn’t be living another day. Gathering every last remaining strength, she raised her quaking arm, pointed her finger, and hissed, “She kil—killed hi—him.”
And that was it.
Last heartbeat.
Last breath.
Her eyes latched smugly onto mine, then closed forever.
I’d killed my second Hawk.
But she’d delivered me into terrible torture.
Her arm tumbled to her side, bouncing off her dead flesh, coming to rest awkwardly by her side.
For a moment, the room mourned its owner. Flower petals drooped and curtains twitched with a non-existent breeze.
Then Cut raised his head, eyes glittering with unshed tears, face swelling with unadulterated hatred. “You...”
I raised my scissors, backing away.
He didn’t move, hugging his dead mother, my second victim—stolen, not at my hand, but by the poltergeists of my ancestors.
“You killed Daniel.”
Two choices.
One future.
I was so sick of running. So sick of hiding. So sick of being weak.
I didn’t run.
I didn’t deny it.
Instead, I held my chin high and claimed all that I’d achieved.
I’d won; they’d lost. So be it if my life was now over.
“Yes. Yes, I killed him. I took his life, I disposed of his body, and I enjoyed every damn second of it.”
Cut gasped.
I smiled.
We didn’t move as the next battle was drawn.
