I remained vertical for a brief moment, before face planting instead.
I didn’t walk anymore, I hobbled.
I didn’t talk, I croaked.
I wore bracelets of bruising around my wrists and ankles, and my skin retained its ghostly white, as if I hadn’t quite shed death’s grip.
No matter how alive I’d been with Jethro last night…today, I was paying for it.
I hadn’t wanted him to leave—not when he was blistering open and profound. I would’ve preferred to fall asleep in his embrace. But I knew that, regardless of our alliance to one another, his family was still in charge. Things had to go on as if nothing had changed—even though everything had.
My stomach rumbled, adding another discomfort on top of all the rest.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten.
After a slow shower and an even slower time of getting dressed, I headed to the door, hissing between my teeth with every step.
I wouldn’t permit my body to steal my plans for today. Jethro was taking me away. He would talk. Nothing would destroy that.
Perhaps it could wait until tomorrow.
The thought of returning to the softness of my mattress almost made me turn around.
No!
I was just stiff—that was all. As long as I got on with life, I would heal faster.
Gritting my teeth, I forced my aching muscles to slowly propel me toward the dining room.
As I pushed open the double doors and entered the cavernous space with its dripping blood-red walls and excessively big portraits of past Hawks, my attention swooped to the armoury and the empty place that had held my dirk.
That same dirk was now tucked into the waistband of my yoga pants.
The scents of freshly brewed coffee and intoxicating aroma of buttery pastries turned my hunger into a sharp pang.
Cut looked up from his newspaper, a large grin splitting his face. “Ah, Nila! You’re awake from the dead.” He laughed at his tasteless joke. Folding the paper, he waved to a few free chairs.
The dining room was a busy place this morning. Black Diamond brothers were scattered around the twenty seated table, eating an array of full English breakfasts.
Tugging on the cuffs of my long sleeve baby-blue jumper, I drifted forward, cursing the creak in my joints.
I second-guessed my need for breakfast and hovered by a chair. If I didn’t sit down soon, I’d fall, but I didn’t think I could tolerate eating with my archenemies.
Where is he?
I needed to make sure Jethro hadn’t had second thoughts. That we were still together—still true.
“I see Jet revived you.”
Daniel’s voice made my head snap up. He sat between two bikers, gnawing on a sausage.
Crap, I hadn’t seen him. If I’d known he was here, I would’ve forgone an entire day of food.
Daniel sneered. “He’s such a soft-hearted prick. If it were me, I would’ve just let you drown.”
My fingers curled around the back of a chair. “Lucky for me, you’re not firstborn.”
Daniel lost his smirk. His face grew black. “Not lucky for you, though, little Weaver.”
What did he mean by that?
Then the doors swung wide and Jethro appeared.
The man who’d drugged me, kidnapped me, and stolen my heart strode quickly to my side and took my elbow.
Every atom wanted to sway into his support. Every cell demanded I turn and kiss him.
But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t let Cut see what’d happened.
It was one thing to be blatant in my hate for Jethro at the beginning, but now it proved a hard task to pretend. I had to openly despise him, all while suffocating my heart from showing the truth.
It took all my willpower, but I sidestepped out of Jethro’s hold. “Don’t you think you did enough yesterday? Don’t touch me.”
Jethro sucked in a harsh breath.
Daniel chuckled, smacking his lips. “Seems you’re as hated as us now, brother. Congratulations.”
Jethro’s eyebrows knitted together, his gaze flaring with hurt.
I willed him to understand.
The tightness suddenly faded around his mouth, his forehead smoothing into a perfect mask.
He knows.
His gaze met mine. With a barely noticeable nod, he agreed to our deception. A second later, a cold shield slammed over his face as effortlessly as breathing. He glittered with ice, so pure, so sharp.
If I didn’t bear the marks of his teeth and fingertips from loving me so roughly last night, I would’ve doubted what was real.
I swallowed hard.
It’s only a trick.
It’s what needs to happen.
It was us against them now. This was the biggest secret of all.
My attention dropped to what he held in his left hand.
The Tally Box.
The room had been fairly silent since I entered, but now hushed anticipation filled the space.
“Glad to see you remembered,” Cut said, taking a sip of his coffee.
Jethro nodded at his father, pulling out a chair for me. “Sit, Ms. Weaver. There’s something we need to do.”
Unable to hide my flinch from bending sore joints, I settled into the offered chair.
Only once I sat did Jethro take the seat beside me.
Folding his long legs beneath the table, he shuffled closer. His aftershave and natural scent of woods and leather trickled into my lungs, causing my heart to squeeze.
My mouth popped open as something pressed against my knee.
Jethro refused to meet my eyes, but I knew it was him, touching me…comforting me, granting me strength.
I sucked in a breath as he nudged me harder. The pressure sent combustible lust fizzing through my blood.
The heavy weight from last night settled on my chest. Words I wanted to spill gathered thickly, drowning me. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to ask questions and hear his answers.
I want to know him.
Every inch.
Jethro continued to lean his leg against mine. He did it so calmly, all the while pretending nothing was different.
“Get on with it, Jet,” Cut ordered, his attention locked on us.
Jethro nodded curtly. “Of course. Don’t rush me. I think I’ve proven I’m more than capable of doing what needs to be done.”
Cut smashed his lips together.
Jethro’s eyes narrowed as he opened the Tally Box.
My heartbeat sped up as he lifted out the apparatus he would need. Keeping my attention on the needle and ink, I rubbed my foot against his ankle.
He tensed, but continued on as if everything was fine.
Last night, he’d given me power over him in the form of his life.
I knew things no one else did.
And after today, I would know everything.
Jethro was mine, and I would help save him, just like he said. We could change our fates from the plague of his family.
“Hold out your hand,” Jethro murmured, ignoring the table of onlookers.
My heart raced as he held up the tattoo gun.
Pressing my knuckles against the wood of the table, I bit my lip as he turned on the gun.
His hair had grown longer and it fell over his forehead. My fingers itched to brush it away, to press below his chin and bring his mouth to mine.
The air shimmered between us, growing thicker with lust.
My pussy ached from him taking me so roughly last night, but I wanted more. I wanted it harder, deeper, faster. I doubted I’d ever have enough.
Jethro bristled, fighting against the building heat humming where we touched. When it came to touching in public, we had no armor against the truth.
My gaze shot to Cut. My feelings were far too obvious—he’d see…he’d know. However, his attention zeroed in on his son, his hands steepled before him.
I gasped as the sharp needle bit into my skin. I endured the tiny teeth as they
stained me with ink. The burn this time was faintly familiar, filling with memories—becoming part of the design as much as his initials.
It only took a moment.
Jethro reclined, eyeing up his penmanship. There, on the pad of my middle finger, he’d completed another .
A debt for a debt.
A tally for a tally.
The residual pain couldn’t compete with my other aches and bruises. It was rather refreshing to have a wound that was sharp, rather than bone-deep and throbbing.
Jethro turned off the gun and handed it to me.
Wordlessly, he splayed his beautiful long fingers and never stopped looking at me as I inked my ownership on his mirroring finger.
My lines were straighter this time, more confident. I embraced the marks because now it only bound us tighter together, rather than recorded a new debt.
When I’d finished, he had two branded fingers.
Like for like.
Same for same.
Jethro nudged my foot again, keeping his face blank and almost cruel. I pressed back, never looking up as I turned off the gun and placed it back in its box.
Awareness scattered over my forearms. I couldn’t stop a gentle sigh as Jethro deliberately brushed my pinky with his, tucking away the discarded vial and locking the lid.
Cut muttered, “Good to see you learned from your past mistake and things are following accordingly.” Waving at the sideboard groaning with food, he added, “Eat, both of you. You have a large schedule.”
My throat closed at the thought of what that could mean.
Cut narrowed his eyes. “Jethro, you’re in charge of the Carlyle shipment. The stones arrive in a few hours. You know what to do.” Turning his cold glare on me, he smiled. “And, Nila, you’ve been summoned by my mother, Bonnie, for tea in her boudoir.”
My heart raced.
Jethro threw me a look.
What about our plans?
He glared at his father. “Ms. Weaver was subjected to enough yesterday.” His voice lowered as he spoke through clenched teeth. “Give her a few days, for fuck’s sake.”
Knives and forks screeched across crockery as the Diamond men turned to see Cut’s reaction.
Cut fisted his hands on the table. “Don’t you—”
“Um, sir?”
All heads turned to the youngest member of the Black Diamonds, a twenty-year-old man named Facet. His floppy blond hair and kind eyes were a direct contradiction to the leader he now addressed.
Cut’s forehead furrowed. Black anger covered his face. “What? What is so fucking important you interrupt me mid-sentence?”
Facet shifted awkwardly. “Sorry, sir. Won’t happen again. But, eh…we have company.” His eyes flew around the room, looking for someone to help bear the brunt of his leader.
No one moved.
The guy sucked in a breath, reluctantly delivering his news. “I tried to stop them from entering the grounds. We did what you said. But they ignored us.” Sweat gleamed on his upper lip. “Even the gatekeeper at the lock house couldn’t stop them.”
“What the hell are you talking about, boy?!” Cut exploded.
Facet jumped. “They have a warrant, sir. They—they barged past, regardless of our warnings. We reminded them that we own their department—that our brotherhood is beyond their reach.” He hung his head. “It didn’t do any good.”
The entire table sucked in a breath.
Warrant?
Could it be?
Jethro went deathly still beside me. Every connection we shared froze, no longer a two-way street of togetherness and affection. A road block slammed into place, masking his every thought.
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. My heart squeezed as he stared fiercely at the opposite wall, refusing to look at me.
“Jethro—” I breathed.
His jaw locked; snowflakes flurried around him as he pulled more and more away from me. Goosebumps dotted my flesh.
Cut roared, “Tell those fucking pigs to get off my land. Their warrant means jack-shit.”
“Sir, I’ve told them. But they won’t listen. They say—they say they’re here for—”
Jethro burst out laughing—a cold, cynical chuckle. “That low life piece of shit. He did this. They’re here for her.” He looked at the ceiling, his face twisting into nightmares. “Of course, they fucking are.”
A warrant could mean many things. It might not have anything to do with me. Yet a screeching, tearing noise echoed in my ears. It’s my soul. The awful ripping sound was my soul splintering in two. If they had come for me…that meant…
I’m saved.
I’d wished for this very thing to happen.
I’d prayed for this. I’d begged for this.
Escape.
So, why—if it was true—did I wish to run to my quarters and hide?
I don’t want to leave him.
I can’t leave him.
Not after last night.
Jethro balled his hands, his eyes sharp and deadly. He snarled at Facet, “Tell them they can’t fucking have her.”
My heart squeezed. Pain blazed through me with more agony than I thought possible. He wouldn’t give me up. He couldn’t give me up.
We were one now. It’d been written in the stars and on our very skin.
Escape.
The word slithered through my brain, bringing forth thoughts of London and home. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the steadily building allure.
You could go home.
No, my home is here now.
But you’d be safe again…
My steadfast promise to stay and steal Jethro from his heritage faded…I became confused…
I swallowed, lubricating my throat. “Jethro—please…”
I needed him to fight for me. To prove that this was my place, my destiny.
Jethro clenched his jaw, shoving his chair back and standing. “Quiet!” Pointing a finger at Facet, he growled. “Do they, or do they not, have a fucking warrant for what’s mine?”
Facet swallowed. “Yes.”
“How?” I blurted, causing every man to look in my direction. “How do they have a warrant?”
Facet’s mouth fell open, looking to Cut to see if he should reply.
Cut glowered at me as if I’d brought the apocalypse to his door.
No one spoke.
What did my father do?
How did V find a way to free me?
My heart winged thinking of my twin. He’d promised he would never give up. I should’ve trusted him.
I should be more grateful.
I wanted to kill him.
He’d ruined it. He’d taken everything I’d worked for and torn it away from me.
I’m alive and going home.
I’m alive and going home.
The words repeated in my head.
I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for Jethro.
I’m in love with him.
He’d infected me, and no matter how much distance was between us, that would never change. I was his. And he was mine.
Jethro’s eyes locked with me—the golden depths burned with despair and scorching agony. “I warned him. I tried to stop…”
He showed too much.
He felt too much.
My diamond collar grew heavier, colder.
You said you’d be the last.
You promised you’d end this.
My stomach somersaulted.
If they’re here for you. Leave.
You have no choice.
I ached.
“Warned who? What’s happened? Jethro…I’m not leaving. Even if they are here for me.”
Jethro didn’t move. He looked as if the light in his soul had snuffed out. The peace and openness of last night was gone. Disappeared.
“I’ll kill him for this,” he muttered.
Unfurling my hand, I looked at my inked finger. I needed him to know that what happened last night wasn’t a trick. He needed to know that I
intended to stay—even though it might be the worst decision in the world.
My stomach clenched at the thought of leaving.
Facet blurted, “Sir, they’re here to take Nila Weaver home.”
The words fell like bombs, detonating my last hope.
It’s true then.
Cut stood up. He spoke slowly and with the blackest temper I’d ever seen. “You’re mistaken, boy. I suggest you get out of my sight. Tell whoever threatened you to get off my fucking land.”
“They’re—they’re in the annex, sir. They said if we don’t deliver the girl within five minutes, they’ll tear apart the place looking for her.”
Jethro fisted his hands. “Tell them she’s mine and she’s not going anywhere.”
Daniel stood. “She’s our Weaver now.”
In a sick twisted way, the men imprisoning me were now on my side. I was no longer just a betrayer to my ancestors but a betrayer to my father and brother, too.
You would rather stay here than go home.
I would rather love and die young than be empty forever.
“What is the meaning of this screeching inside my house?”
All eyes turned to the raspy voice of Bonnie Hawk as she appeared in the doorway.
Facet moved sideways, giving up his audience to the matriarch of this insane family.
“I see the plot has thickened.” Bonnie crooked a finger in my direction, a large ruby glinting in the light. “How did you do this?”
“Me?” I glanced from Bonnie to Jethro. “I didn’t do it. I wouldn’t.”
“It wasn’t her,” Jethro snapped. “Get rid of the police. She’s not leaving.”
My arms craved to wrap around him. To thank him for keeping me.
Bonnie shuffled closer, her long skirt dragging on the carpet. Her white hair was curled and immaculate. “She’s brought scorn and blasphemy to our name.” Her eyes bored into mine. “I’ve seen what you do, little girl. I know what you want. And you won’t get it.” Pointing at the door, she ordered, “Get out.”
Cut punched the table. “No fucking—”
“She’s leaving this house.” Bonnie interrupted. “Now.”
Jethro moved to stand in front of me, blocking my body with his. “She’s staying.”
Bonnie smiled coldly. “There is no other way. They’re here for her. She’s going with them.” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t make me repeat myself, boy. You know as well as I do what your obligations are.”
I grabbed Jethro’s arm, unable to hide my emotions. If I hated the Hawks as much as Cut believed, I should’ve sprinted out the door, skipping with happiness. Instead, Cut would see that something deeper had happened—something that would be severely punished.