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.
NO ONE WANTED to listen to the story of the sinner. The bad guy. The villain.
No one truly cared about my agendas or goals.
No one could comprehend that my actions stemmed from a place of love, family, and commitment to those I cherished.
Did that make me a terrible person?
Could I not put those I cared about before a total stranger?
People did it all the time.
They murdered to protect themselves and loved ones. They willingly forgot the commandments in favour of how they viewed what was acceptable and what was not.
I was no different.
Those who knew me understood my passion and drive. And those who didn’t. Well, I didn’t give a rat’s arse what they thought.
There were rarely two sides to every story. In my long life experience, I’d come to see the truth. There were multiple sides. Pages and pages of sides. A never-ending battle where humans picked what they believed, causing friction and intolerance. Sometimes the choices were for understandable reasons—not justified or rash or right—just…understandable.
And when I understood that magic, I learned how to create the same spell within my own empire.
There was no right and wrong.
There was no black and white.
Those two simple lessons guided me through my life forever.
My reasons for doing what I did made sense to me. They were my dreams, and I was lucky enough to have the power and authority to press those dreams on others.
Was I right? Depended on who you asked.
Was I wrong? Not in my eyes.
And really, that was all that mattered.
I believed in what I did. I loved my family. I adored the power and wretchedness my loved ones could deliver. I gave my entire being to ensuring they thrived.
It all started on the day Alfred ‘Eagle’ Hawk asked me to marry him. The day he went from courting to bent knee, I knew my trials at living within my place in society were over. I hated the airs and graces of stuck-up princesses at the seasonal parties. I hated dealing with egotistical jerks who thought one manor and a career slaving for others meant they could take care of me.
Idiots.
That was just a prison sentence, and I had no intention of sharing a cell with middle-class achievers.
I came from wealthy stock myself. The Warrens owned most of South Hampton and a fleet of transportation that travelled all over the world with merchandise. Mainly, other people’s merchandise—a fact I didn’t like. I didn’t like that we helped others improve their footing in this world.
Finite resources meant me and mine had to share.
I believed those I loved and shared blood with should prosper and those who didn’t shouldn’t. A simple decision that came with so many different sides.
As I grew used to my newfound authority, I decided to forgo my first name of Melanie and rechristen myself as Bonnie.
Bonnie Hawk rose from the ashes of Melanie Warren.
And I became a true wife and supporter.
When I fell pregnant with Peter, my first child, I swore he would be the reason I worked beside Alfred and gathered more power. Hard work and dedication didn’t scare me. Failure and destitution did. So I did everything in my power to make my husband great—beyond great—unsurpassable.
One night, Alfred told me of the Debt Inheritance. It took me years to get him to fully explain what it meant. Wives of Hawk men were not supposed to get involved with the so-called Indebted business, but Alfred was mine, and if it was in my power to bring him greater glory, I would do it.
I was then graced wit
h another son, Bryan. Life smiled on us, doting on my perfect children, ensuring they would become great masters and lords of a universe I would help maintain and create for them.
However, one stormy night and a few too many cognacs, Alfred told me how he claimed a Weaver before he met me. He carried out a few debts but couldn’t carry out the final one. He didn’t attach the Weaver Wailer, and he lied about killing her to a save face with the history books.
He let her go. Told her to run. To hide. He buried an empty coffin, pretended he’d completed the debts, and covered up the truth on the moor.
Stupid bastard.
That kind of weakness was not tolerated. I lost all respect for him. I saw him for what he was—a wimp. So I moved out of his bedroom to new quarters. I could no longer stomach his unwillingness to deliver a perfect future for our sons. Years later when he died of lung cancer, I didn’t mourn his loss. I celebrated it.
Now was my time to triumph or meddle—again, it depended on whose opinion.
Peter took after his father. A hard worker, loyal and kind. I truly hoped he would be a good replacement and heir but time slowly changed my opinion.
Bryan took after me. He had my soul, my discipline, my drive for the impossible. Peter preferred to study and donate our wealth to charities. Bryan preferred to take that wealth and turn it into even more wealth for us—not others.
We were blood, but battle lines had been drawn and as age separated my two sons, I taught the one who listened. Bryan had been my student since he was little, and he remained my student all his life.
I’d wanted more children. I wouldn’t deny it. Lots and lots of children to ensure a greater probability of world domination. We traded in the most priceless of wealth. We owned countless empires in countries around the globe. I was finally in a position to ensure we were unstoppable, but I only had one son on my side. However, he was a son who was happy to oblige.
While I was busy teaching Bryan how to run the Black Diamonds with better efficiency, digging through Hawk history books and immersing myself in my new family more than I ever did as a Warren, Peter fell in love.
A woman he met at an animal shelter. He brought her home to introduce us a few months into their relationship. Behind my back, he’d asked her to marry him and she’d agreed without my consent.
Rose Tessel was everything I wasn’t. Softly spoken, obsessed with dogs and cats and horses. She didn’t care about Hawksridge. She didn’t care about diamonds or money. All she cared about was making Peter happy and spending time at the stables with my firstborn.