Final Debt

Those thoughts sucked to a violent stop as Cut charged toward me.

Whatever conclusion spilled into my head must’ve filled his. Perhaps in the same order—the knowledge he looked upon a worthy competitor and not just a Weaver—or the newly forming plan to strip me of everything now I’d stripped him.

Either way, he slammed to a halt, breathing hard—almost as if he didn’t trust himself if he touched me. Giving time to gather his scattered self and focus on so many new developments.

“You killed her.”

I balled my hands. “I wanted to, but I didn’t.”

His breathing billowed like dragon smoke from his nose. “You did. You fucking did!”

“It was a heart attack. Her own body killed her.”

“Lies. Just like you lied about Daniel. It was you.”

My spine straightened even as I winced at what my truth would bring. “I did.”

His fists shook. “You fucking bitch.” He wanted to strike me—it lived in every cell—but at the same time, there was something else…relief? Traitorous gratitude instead of mournful grief?

Did he hate his mother as much as the rest of us?

Pain from my arm gave me false bravado. “Can I help that I learned from you? You killed two of your sons. I only killed one.”

Cut lowered his chin, glowering beneath his brow. “They were my sons. Mine to do what I like. They were only alive because of me. I created them.”

“You might’ve created life, but they created themselves into the men they are.”

He went deadly still. “They?”

I swallowed.

Shit.

“Kestrel is fucking alive, too?” His eyes bugged, ignoring the death of his mother so easily. “You’re telling me I didn’t murder either of my children, yet you killed my youngest, the one I’d promised to make my heir?” His voice gruffed. The air tinged with…regret?

Relief and regret—two very contradictory emotions I never expected Cut to feel.

What does that mean?

Backing away, I held up the scissors. “I said nothing of the sort.”

Cut prowled toward me, slower this time, as if he couldn’t comprehend such blasphemous facts. “They. You said they. Who’s they?” His gaze flew around the room, to the open door, to his dead mother. “What do you mean by that? Where is he? Where the fuck is Kestrel if he didn’t die with the bullet in his godforsaken heart?”

Kes was anything but godforsaken. God chosen perhaps. Protected and watched over and given friends who ensured his healing and safety.

“Answer me!” Cut’s hand shot to his back waistband, pulling free a pistol.

I froze, staring down the black muzzle, expecting any moment a flash of gunpowder and a cold kiss of lead. Cut bounced between so many emotions, I couldn’t keep track.

Was it the pistol he’d shot Jethro and Kes with? He didn’t have it with him when we cleared customs at the airport. What outstanding matters had he attended to once we returned to Hawksridge?

Despite facing a grave, I kept the truth hidden. Jethro was trapped in Africa subjected to survival only if I obeyed Cut and gave up my life. I couldn’t help him. But I could help Kes by staying silent. Kestrel was safe. I wouldn’t tattle on his whereabouts, and I definitely wouldn’t tell Cut that both lives had been saved thanks to Flaw and Jasmine.

Flaw!

He’s on my side.

The tentative friendship we’d sparked when Kes let me into his chambers at the start. The jokes and conversation around late afternoon snacks when Jethro avoided me after the First Debt was paid. Flaw had come through for me, for Kes.

Could he help me now?

Where is he?

My heart thundered with despair. Even if Flaw was close by, it wouldn’t be a simple matter of screeching for help. Hawksridge Hall swallowed men whole, disappearing for days in its cavernous corridors.

He’d never hear me.

Cut suddenly stopped, leaving a few metres between us. His eyes narrowed as sorrow, anguish, and loathing crossed his face. The hand holding his gun lowered until the nose threatened the carpet and not my life. “I underestimated you, Nila.”

My lungs siphoned oxygen faster. My spine wanted to roll, to give in to the sudden ceasefire, but I knew the armistice wouldn’t last long.

His mother had just died in his arms. His mourning and rage fought to take ownership of what his next move would be. He was as unpredictable as a penny in the air.

“That’s the first compliment you’ve given me.”

He looked over his shoulder at the cooling, decaying body of Bonnie. “Emma was right.”

I flinched. “Don’t talk about my mother. You have no right to mention her name.”

His eyes landed on mine with ferocity. “I have no right? I have every fucking right. Did you think I didn’t see her playing me? Pretending to love me while all along I knew her love was for her wretched family left behind. Even when she was nice to me, she warned me what would happen if Jethro claimed you.”

Chills darted over my skin. “What did she say?” As much as I hated discussing my mother with Cut, I wouldn’t stop him sharing more of his weaknesses. Because Emma was definitely his biggest weakness.

His shoulders sagged as he swiped a hand over his face. For a short second, he looked defeated. As if without Bonnie, the drive to be the worst, the most despicable overlord had vanished. “She said you’d finish us.”

An icy smile lit my face. “I guess you should’ve listened to her.”