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.”
I LEANED OVER my brother.
The tubes and heart monitor made him look like some Frankenstein monster—pieced together with scraps from the man I once called friend, held together by sorcery and sheer luck.
His skin held a slightly yellow hue; his lips cracked and dry, parted to allow the tube down his throat.
The doctors had done all they could—patched him up and kept his heart pumping. It was up to him now.
A week and a half had passed. Ten excruciatingly long days. If it wasn’t for regular messages with Nila, I would’ve gone out of my mind with worry.
Her texts kept me sane.
Every hour, I grew stronger. I pushed myself until pain bellowed and my endurance improved. Every minute, I plotted my game plan, and every second, I thought of Nila.
She replied at night. Both of us under the same sky, writing by starlight, sending forbidden messages. She was in the world I used to inhabit; I was in a grave sent there by my father.
Yet nothing could keep us apart.
Soon, we’d both be free.
However¸ her messages weren’t like before. When Nila was still at home with her father and brother, she’d been timid and easily embarrassed. She’d been sweet and so damn tempting in her innocence. But now her texts were shaded with what she didn’t say. She kept so much back, only telling me what I wanted to hear.
It was fucking frustrating.
Why don’t you answer my calls, Nila?
Every time I’d dialled in-between our messages, she’d always ignored me and disappeared. Almost as if lying to me by innate characters was all she was capable of.
I needed to talk to her. I needed to find out the truth.
What I really need is to get out of this fucking place.
My side twinged, reminding me that I might be going out of my mind with impatience but I still wasn’t fight worthy.
Goddammit.
Kes’s heart rate monitor never stopped its incessant monotone beeping. I willed it to spike, to show some sign of him waking up.
Clasping his hand, I squeezed. “I’m here, man. Don’t give up.”
My other hand drifted to my torso, prodding the tender rib. Louille said I was lucky the bullet had passed so cleanly. He couldn’t explain the trajectory to miss such vital organs, but I could. Flying through the air, twisting into position to save my sister had kept me alive.
The bullet hadn’t found a perfect target.
Tracing the puckered skin through the thin cotton of a t-shirt I’d been given, I gritted my teeth. This morning, they’d removed my stitches. They’d discontinued my antibiotics and announced the good news.
I was healing quickly.
I’d agreed that was good news. I’d demanded to leave early.
But Louille just laughed as if I should be moved to the psych ward rather than recovery. His emotions shouted he was pleased with my irritation—it proved he’d excelled in his profession as healer—but his mouth said it wouldn’t kill me to wait another few days.
What he didn’t know was his words were too close to the truth.
Kestrel, on the other hand…
I squeezed his fingers again. He hadn’t woken up. He’d been in an induced coma for almost two weeks, giving his body time to heal. The bullet had entered his chest, rupturing his left lung, shattering a few ribs. Bone fragments had punctured other delicate tissues, ensuring his body had a lot more mending to do than mine.
His left lung had taken the ful
l impact, deflating and drowning with blood. He’d been on the ventilator since arriving. Louille said if he caught pneumonia due to his system being so weak, there wouldn’t be much they could do.
I couldn’t think about that ‘what if.’
For now, he breathed. He lived.
You’ll get through this, brother. I have complete faith.
He’d always been the stronger one.
Louille also said Kes was alive thanks to the small calibre bullet Cut used and the rib that’d taken a lot of the original impact. He said it was surprisingly hard to kill someone with a gun—despite the tales—and proceeded to tell me a bedtime story—completely unsolicited—about a gang war in south London. A sixteen-year old had five bullets fired into him—one lodged in his skull, the other damaged his heart—yet he stayed alive and healed.
Kes would, too. I had to keep that hope alive.
The gentle whooshing of air being forced into my brother’s broken body soothed my nerves. Even though he wasn’t awake, I offered company and acceptance.
Hovering by his side wasn’t just about companionship.
I had a purpose.
My senses fanned out, waiting to see if any of his thoughts or emotions tugged on my condition. Day after day, I hoped he’d wake up. My sensory output stretched, seeking any pain or suffering—if I could sense him, then he was awake enough to emanate his feelings.
However, just like yesterday, I sensed nothing but blankness.
Sighing, I smoothed back his unruly hair. “You’ll get better. You’ll see. You’re not going anywhere, Kes. I won’t allow it.”
DANIEL’S LITTLE GAME turned out to be tic-tac-toe.
Only there was no winning, under any circumstance.
At the beginning, I’d refused to play, but he’d soon taught me that that wasn’t an option. Jasmine couldn’t do a thing about it. She was a spectator while I was the pawn for entertainment.
Family night, Bonnie called it.
An evening spent huddled in the gaming room where the Third Debt had been attempted. With no care or comeuppance, they played Scrabble, Monopoly, and cards.
Cut smiled smugly whenever I shuddered with memories of that night, peering at the walls and chess chequered carpet.
Kestrel had been so kind and honourable. Jethro had been so conflicted and hurt.
Jasmine did her best to keep me in one unbloodied piece, but Daniel was given free control that night. His rules: play the game he wished or submit to a kiss instead.
And not just any kiss. A sloppy wet slurp with his tongue diving past my gag reflex and hands pawing my breasts.
After the second kiss, I gave up rebelling and played.
Cut merely laughed.
Bonnie nodded as if she was a lioness teaching her cub how to play with its food.
Something had fissured deep inside. My soul folded into pieces, trying to protect my final strength and endurance.
My memories, my happiness, my passion…all slowly dried up the more I drank their poison.
It was happening. They were winning. I was so close to giving up.
They wanted me to submit by playing a stupid game? Fine.
They won.
Unknown Number: Are you around? I want to speak to you.
The seventh time he’d asked since we’d started messaging last week.
How many days had passed since then? Four? Five? I’ve lost track.
Every morning was a new challenge to break me. Two days ago, Cut had given me a bucket of icy water and told me to scrub the stoop of Hawksridge while snowflakes decorated the air. Yesterday, Bonnie summoned me to her quarters, forcing me to take her measurements and create her a new gown.
I preferred scrubbing the stoop to making that witch a dress with the same skills she’d belittled.
They’ve done other things.
My heart filled with fury and rage—welcomed after so much weakness and grief.
No! Don’t think about it.
I refused to sully my mind with them when I finally had a moment’s peace on my own. I wouldn’t tarnish this precious time with Jethro with memories of his demonic family.
Clenching my jaw, I replied:
Needle&Thread: It’s not safe. Anyone can hear me. Just message…it’s easier.
I sighed as the message sent.
Easier to lie to you, to keep you from knowing how bad things have become.
Unknown Number: That’s bullshit. I’m calling you right now. If you don’t pick up, I’ll have Jasmine drag a phone to you so you can’t hide from me anymore.
Shit!
Sitting stiffly against my pillows, I jumped as the phone buzzed with an incoming call.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
How could I talk to him? How could I pretend I was still the same woman, when I’d faded into someone I didn’t recognise? How could I keep my voice steady and lie through my teeth?
I’ve always been a terrible liar.
The phone jumped and danced in my grip. It’s vibration repeating what I knew: Li-ar. Li-ar.
You have no choice.
Running a hand through my tangled hair, I pressed ‘accept.’ Taking a deep breath, I held the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Fuck.” The curse whispered its way into my heart, warming me, kick-starting happiness that I’d forgotten how to feel. “Nila…thank God, you picked up.”
Him.
My friend. My soul-mate.
Why was I scared of talking to him? Why had I waited so long?
Curling into a ball, I breathed, “Jethro…”
“Fuck, I miss you.”
My eyes closed, fighting a wash of sorrow. “I miss you, too.” So unbelievably much.
“Are you okay? Tell me the truth. I know you’re keeping things from me.”
Don’t do this to me, Kite….
I attempted diversion, deflecting the conversation to him. My heart flip-flopped with tragedy. “I’m fine. How are you? Have the doctors been good to you?”
“Don’t change the subject. Tell me, Nila. Don’t make me beg.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “Hearing you, knowing you’re there and I’m not—it’s fucking killing me. The least you can do is reassure me with the truth.”
Reassure him with the truth? I almost laughed. There would be no reassurance—only lies would do that. Lies and blatant dishonesty.
“Kite…honestly, I’m fine. Jasmine has done an amazing job. She made Cut amend the Debt Inheritance so she has full control.”
Liar.
Half control. And not over the debts.
I’d been lucky the past couple of weeks. Yes, I’d been hurt and tormented, but there’d been no mention of a debt. No extraction of the Third or hint of the Fourth.
Long may it last.
“What have they done to you?”
Everything.
“Nothing. Honestly, I’m alive and waiting for you. I’m just so happy you’re safe.”
“Nila…you’re lying.”
I swiped at a renegade tear. “What about Kes?” I kept my voice to a murmur. “Has he improved yet?” I asked daily in my messages, but there was never any change.
Jethro sighed. “Goddammit, you infuriate me.” He paused. “No, he’s still unconscious.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You can make it up to me by telling me how you truly are.”
I glared across the room at the tropical fish tank with its finned creatures swimming unmolested in their perfect environment. They were free to be happy. I wasn’t. And I refused to make someone else unhappy when there was nothing they could do. “Don’t badger me, Jethro.”
Don’t be like them.
I hung my head. “I’m alive. That’s the truth. I’m not happy. That’s another truth. But what good is it to tell you what they’ve done when you can’t do anything to fix it?” My voice hardened. “Just accept that I’m okay and move on, alright?”
Silence.
My heart thundered against my ribs.
“Jethro?”
A hitch sounded in my ear. “I’m sorry. So fucking sorry.”
I melted. “I know. But it’s not your fault.”
“I’ll make them pay.”
“I know. We’ll do it together.”
“I wish I could hold you. Kiss you. My arms are empty without you.”
I felt that same emptiness—a terrible void ripping me into ribbons with its aching vastness. “I would give anything to be with you.”
Both of us fell quiet. What was there to say when we couldn’t talk about what we needed? What words could offer solace when only pain awaited?
“How long?” I finally whispered. “How much longer before I can kiss you again?”
“Too long.” Jethro sighed. “They said three weeks, but I’m almost ready. I’m not waiting that long. It’s already been too much. I refuse to leave you there another hour more than necessary.”
His passion soothed me even though I didn’t believe him.
He thought he’d be here in time.
I wished with every fibre of my being that he was right.
But there was something monstrous inside me…slurping me deeper, telling me that my time was running out. I didn’t know where the countdown beast had come from, but it was snarling louder and louder.
Jasmine was right. Cut had planned something big. Daniel knew it. Bonnie knew it. I knew it.
My life was quickly running out.
Hurry, Jethro.
Hurry…
Before it’s too late…
NINETEEN HOURS SINCE I’d spoken to Nila.
I’d waited until nightfall to message her again; I’d almost torn myself apart with impatience. The only thing that’d kept me inside the hospital and prevented me from hijacking a motorbike and hurtling toward Hawksridge was the lingering throb in my side.
I was better, but I wasn’t one hundred percent.
Not that I needed to be completely whole to destroy my father but I wouldn’t be stupid this time.
I wouldn’t ruin my surprise.
Finally, after my nightly check-up and disgusting hospital dinner, it was safe to message Nila without fear of her being caught.
Unknown Number: I need to speak to you again. I want to touch you—even if it means I can’t do it physically. Call me.
Hearing her delicious voice last night had turned me on, angered me, and set my nerves on edge. It felt as if I was the one with a guillotine blade over my head—punished by the desire to protect and love her.