What was I talking about?
Less fortunate? Jasmine had more wealth than she could ever spend. She came from a lineage that banded together and protected their own no matter the cost. Not having use of her legs was a downside, but it didn’t handicap her, nor did it make her a nicer person for her struggles.
Jasmine fisted her hands on the table. I didn’t know if it was from the misplaced condolences or anger at being denied.
Either way, I laughed under my breath, unable to stop my derisive frustration. “Don’t pity her.”
Cole glanced away guiltily.
Jaz flicked me a cold look. “Don’t you dare speak on my behalf.”
I turned to face her, war ready to break out between us. I thought I’d find the courage to fight by sparring with Daniel or Cut. Not Jasmine. I’d hoped, woman to woman, we would rally together. I’d hoped she’d be on my side.
Stupid hope. Stupid, stupid dreams.
Marshall sent a fountain pen skittering toward me, breaking the strained standoff. “If you would be so kind to sign and initial the amendment, I’ll ensure it’s kept safe and on record.”
They hadn’t listened to a word I’d said. Once again, treating me as a clause to fix, an amendment to be filed.
For a split second, I was glad Jethro and Kes were dead.
They were free from this. Free from suffering more insanity.
My heart imploded on itself as Jethro took over my mind. His tinsel hair, golden eyes, and unbearable complexities.
He’s dead.
There was nothing else for me but to play their game until there was a winner and a loser.
I’ll be the winner.
I picked up the pen. With steady hands, I uncapped it and had a sudden daydream of breaking it in half and splashing ink all over the so-called contract.
My mind raced with thoughts of my mother. Had she sat in this exact chair and signed the previous amendment? Why had Cut become heir and what’d happened to his brother?
Did he kill that family member, too?
I glared at him.
Cut glared right back.
I wanted answers, but how would I get them?
The Weaver Journal?
Could the diary actually have anything worthwhile inside and not just brainwashing drivel that Cut wanted me to believe? I hadn’t bothered with it because every time I touched its pages, a sense of evil had warned me away.
Lies and misfortune and fraudulent deceit.
I’d suspected Kes gave it to me to keep me in line by reading about the adversity of my ancestors—striving to be better to avoid such things—but what if he gave it to me for another reason? What if he’d been trying to help me from day one?
Why didn’t I study the damn thing?
Because I’d been so wrapped up in Jethro. Falling in love, attending polo matches, and accepting horses as gifts.
God, I’m so stupid.
“Ms. Weaver.” Marshall slapped the table, wrenching me from my thoughts. “If you would be so kind…”
Jaz stiffened in her chair. “We don’t have all day, you know.” Ripping the page away from me, she snatched the fountain pen, and signed the bottom where her name and date waited.
Pushing me out of the way, she scooted the contract and pen to Daniel. “See, Nila? Wasn’t so hard.”
Daniel smirked. “Watch again how easy it is.” He signed with an unintelligible scrawl. “Signing your life away, literally. Kinda fun, isn’t it?” He placed the two items back in front of me. “Your turn.”
“I’m surprised you don’t expect me to sign in blood.”
Bonnie gave up being the silent matriarch and slid into a caustic temper. “For shit’s sake, you stupid girl. Be reasonable!”
The table froze.
My heart sprinted with hostility. She wanted to fight? I’d give her a damn fight. “I am being reasonable. You expect me to die for you. It would make sense to make me sign in blood—I’m sure you’d get a kick out of that, you witch.”
I smiled, glowing in resentment. In the course of one meeting, I’d called Jasmine a bitch and her grandmother a witch. Not bad considering my past of being shy and scared of confrontation. Even vertigo gave me a reprieve, keeping me levelheaded and strong.
Bonnie shot pink with fury. “Why you little—”
Marshall jumped in, waving his hands in a ceasefire. “We don’t expect it in blood. Ink will more than suffice.”
“And if I don’t?”
“If you don’t what?” Cole frowned.
“If I don’t sign it—like I’ve been saying since I got here. Then what?”
Marshall flicked a glance at Cut. His jaw worked as their eyes shot messages above my comprehension. Finally, he bowed his head. “Then a certain type of persuasion would be used.”
I laughed loudly. “Persuasion? Torture, you mean. I thought you had integrity to uphold. Didn’t you just say you had evidence that all documents were signed without—as you put it—persuasion?”
Marshall hunched. “Well…eh…in some cases—”
“Sign the bloody paperwork, you ingrate!” Bonnie stood up stiffly, her cane in hand.
“Nila, fucking—” Cut growled.
“Shut up! All of you.” Jaz suddenly wrapped her fingers around mine, pinching the pen into position. Dragging my hand over the paperwork, she muttered, “The things I fucking do.”
“Wait, what are you doing?” I struggled, but found out that she might not have use of her legs, but she had strength in her arms that I couldn’t fight.
“I’m putting an end to this. I’ve wasted too much time dealing with this as it is.” She forced the nib onto the paper.
“No, wait!”
Digging her fingernails into my hand, she directed the pen and printed a rudimentary name.
My name.
Signed and witnessed on the Debt Inheritance amendment.
“What the hell have you done?”
She released me. “I did what I had to.”
My chair screeched backward as I towered over her. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
She wheeled away from the table, wobbling a little on the ramp. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” She stabbed me in the belly with her finger. “You’re the one dragging this out when you know there’s no way out.” Tears gleamed in her eyes. “He’s dead. They’re both dead. The sooner you are too, the better.”
My heart plummeted to the floor. Jethro’s voice and touch and smell and kisses all slammed into me.
He’s dead.
He’s dead.
God, it hurts.
“I wish it were you!” I screamed. “You never deserved him. You should’ve died instead of him. He leapt in front of you to save you and this is what you do to repay him! I hope the devil—”
“Enough!” Cut soared upright, eyes shooting golden sparks. “Jasmine, calm down. Nila, shut up immediately.” He splayed his arms like a messiah seeking peace. “It’s done. It’s unfortunate that this had to happen, but—”
“My brothers’ deaths are a misfortune, father?” Jaz’s cheeks glowed red. “I’ll tell you what’s a misfortune—having to deal with this bullshit!” Her hands latched around chrome wheel rims. “I’m sick of this. I want her gone. Now! I want this finished!”
The lawyers scrambled to their feet. “I think it’s time we departed.” The towers of paperwork quickly disappeared back into their boxes.
The men bowed. “Pleasure being of service once again. We’ll be back in touch once the, eh…once the final part of the inheritance has taken place.”
The final part?
The final part?
That was my final part—the last straw on my willpower.
I cracked. I was a girl, but now I was a monster.
I’ve had enough.
Enough!
Darting around the table, I planted myself in Colin Marshall’s path. His eyes flared. My palm twitched. And I slapped the bastard full on the cheek.
My h
and blazed with fire, but I loved it.
I embraced the pain.
I gave myself over to fury.
His mouth popped open. “What on earth? Ms. Weaver!”
Chairs screeched as Hawks leapt to their feet. I ignored them.
“Listen to me.” I stalked Marshall as he backpedalled. “That final part you just so loosely mentioned is my death. The day they cut off my head and steal back their necklace from my decapitated throat.” I looped my fingers through the diamond collar. “How can you stand there discussing my life like a simple business transaction? How can you delete the lives of two men—two men who would’ve put an end to this insanity—and think you’re upholding something legal? How can any of you breathe the same air as me and not be struck down for the devils you are?”
My arms were suddenly wrenched back, pinned on my lower spine. Daniel’s fingers squeezed hard. “That’s not the way we deal with lawyers, Nila.” Stomping backward, he gave me no room but to trip with him. “You’ll pay for that, and I’ll have a lot of fun teaching you some manners.”
I was too far gone to care.
Marshall rubbed his cheek. Bowing one last time at Cut, he continued with his holier-than-thou arrogance. “Like I said, we’ll be in touch.” Touching his hairline, he smiled at Bonnie. “Lovely seeing you again, Madame Hawk.”
Bonnie’s red-painted lips thinned. “I won’t say likewise.”
Daniel didn’t let me go as the four men gathered briefcases and boxes and left the room in a sea of black suits and purple ties.
The moment they’d disappeared, Jasmine slid down the ramp and glared at her brother. “Let her go. She isn’t yours to play with.” Without another word, she spun her wheels and disappeared after the lawyers.
My heart stopped beating. I prepared myself for pain. My outburst filled the room with echoing bloodshed, but…incredibly, Daniel let me go.
Cut ran a hand over his face, looking at his mother. “Well, that wasn’t peaceful, was it?”
Bonnie never stopped glaring at me. “No. It wasn’t.”
Daniel laughed, slinging an arm over my shoulders. “You’re free to go, little Weaver. But don’t go too far.” He kissed my cheek like any lover or sweetheart. “Don’t forget what I said about our private meeting.”
A shudder worked through my body.
The private meeting would turn into war.
I’d slipped into murderous; there was no going back from that.
Without another look, I turned on my heel, and positively flew out the door.
I needed space to think and fortify. I needed time to prepare and commit.
Daniel will be the first to die.
Darting from the library, I careened around a corner and slammed to a halt.
My chest rose and fell as I plastered myself against the wall, spying on the scene up ahead.
I remained hidden as Jaz ran fingers under her eyes, swiping away tears.
Only, she wasn’t alone.
A man crouched before her, his hand on her knee, talking quick and low. She nodded, looping her fingers through his. Their heads bowed together; she grabbed the lapel of the man’s Black Diamond jacket.
Her pinched, ghostly face animated with hissed whispers.
They didn’t notice me as Jaz pulled the man closer and spoke into his ear.
I slipped deeper into shadows as the man nodded.
He said something that made her convulse and a fresh wash of tears flow.
Then my heart stopped beating as the man gathered her into a hug.
The man…
It was Flaw.
DIARY ENTRY, EMMA Weaver.
I found out what happened to Bryan’s brother today. I don’t think he meant to tell me, but I’ve learned how to manipulate him so occasionally he slips. I wouldn’t normally write that, but tomorrow…it’s all over. I’ve seen where they’ll do it. Bonnie took great pleasure in having me weave the basket that will catch me. I’m beyond thinking about how sick everything is. I tried my best. I pretended to care for Cut. I made him believe I was in love with him. I willingly shared his bed and portrayed the besotted woman around his family. But it was all a lie. You hear that, you evil son of a bitch? If you’re reading this, then good riddance. At least you can’t touch me anymore. You told me things I doubted you would’ve if you knew that every time you touched me, I wanted to slaughter you with my bare hands. You wouldn’t have let me into that frosted heart of yours if you knew that every time you slipped inside me, I gave myself over to the devil, all for him to fulfil one promise.
You won. But one day, you won’t. One day, your sins will catch up with you and it will all be over. My daughter is already twice the woman I am, and she’s still so young. If you go after her, it will be the last thing you ever do. I swear it on every religion, every sanctified God. You will die, Bryan. Mark my words, you will die—
A noise sounded outside my room.
My head wrenched up. My breath came hard and fast. I ached with the pain my mother had transcribed in the Weaver Journal. Somehow, she hadn’t used ink—she’d used her desperation and frustration. Her emotion throbbed from the pages, fisting around my heart. It made me angry, so damn angry that I wasn’t there to save her.
She’d done what I had.
She’d made Cut fall for her—just like I’d gone after Jethro—to control him.
Only, unlike Jethro, Cut hadn’t been so easily broken.
He’d still carried out the Final Debt. He’d killed the woman he was in love with.
And all for what?
The noise came again.
My pulse skyrocketed. With shaking hands, I closed the journal and slid it beneath the covers.
After the lawyers’ visit, I’d headed to the kitchens and stockpiled food. I didn’t know how often I’d be locked in my room in this new world without Jethro.
He’s dead.
He’s dead.
He’s…not coming back.
I balled my hands, forcing the grief to stay away.
No matter how often I thought about him, I always thought of him as alive and only a corridor away.
My brain played tricks on me. Whenever the old Hall creaked, I heard my name whispered in the walls. Whenever the wind whistled and twitched my curtains, I heard him beg for me to find him.
I was slowly going mad.
I can’t. Not yet. I have a job to do first.
I focused on the door to my room, ears straining for the noise. After my raid on the kitchens, I’d hauled my stash back to my quarters. The cook had given me a canvas bag to cart canned fruit, cured meat, packaged biscuits, and cereal. I’d hidden the food in the cupboard where I stored my needles, thread, and ribbon.
If they meant to trap me, at least I wouldn’t starve to death. I could stay strong and wait to strike them down.
Once I’d prepared myself for war, I’d deliberated if I should message my father. I’d wanted to tell him how much I loved him. How fortunate we were that this might be over soon.
If Vaughn and I died …there would be no more Weavers. No more children to torment.
The debt would end for our lineage—some other poor Weaver blood would pay.
Not the way I would’ve chosen, but it was a conclusion I had to live with, a legacy I had to leave.
Jethro.
My heart fisted, but my eyes remained dry.
The noise came again.
It was slight but there.
A scratching, scurrying sound.
Rats, perhaps?
Or one rat in particular.
My heart clanged.
Daniel.
Had he come to honour his promise of raping me tonight? Our private meeting away from the view of Jasmine and Cut?
I looked at the windows. Pitch-black reflected my room in perfect symmetry, distorting colourful fabric, swirling them into some kaleidoscopic artwork.
After the meeting, a thunderstorm had crashed over the estate, drenching everything in damp darkness. I
’d had my lights on ever since, reading and engrossed in the Weaver Journal.
Only select generations had added to the large tome. My mother hadn’t been diligent, and other snippets weren’t signed. It made me wonder if the Hawks gave them an outlet for truth, rather than used it against them. It wasn’t a requirement to write—but a choice.
My eyes darted to the clock above the turquoise fish tank.
11:00 p.m.
Shit!
Scrambling out of bed, I darted across the room. My bare feet padded over thick carpet, and the leggings and cardigan I’d worn all day were rumpled. My back and quads ached from the exercise I’d endured after returning to my room.
I hadn’t been for a run, but I had used every muscle in my body.
How? By protecting myself.
My door suddenly swung open, slamming against the dresser I’d painstakingly emptied and pushed in the smallest increments across the carpet. The ancient wood weighed a ton, but I’d spent hours shoving it across the room—just in case.
I jumped a mile as the door smashed against the dresser again, an aggravated sigh exploding.
He might have a key to lock me inside, but I had a better barricade. He would only touch me when I was ready. And then, it would be the last thing he ever did.
I supposed I should thank him for his prior warning. Allowing me to prepare for a midnight visitor.
Not only had I manhandled the dresser across the door, I’d also fashioned pieces of fabric with sharp needles embedded to make a simple knuckleduster. I’d counted how many scissors I had, how many tools I could use to defend myself, and what would cause the most damage.
I’d hidden my arsenal around the room. Some I stashed in my bedside table, some beneath my workstation, and even tucked in pockets sewn into my duvet. My clothing had also undergone an upgrade with knitting needles and scalpels carefully sewn into cuffs and hems.
Once I’d moved the dresser, I’d replaced the drawers and heavy fabric bolts that’d rested inside its carcass. There was no earthly way someone could move it. Not unless they had ten Black Diamonds outside my door.
Which I wouldn’t discount as a possibility.
Jethro was gone. But it didn’t mean I would go quietly.
I’m ready, you asshole.