Fourth Debt

I’m ready to go now. I’m ready to leave.

But then another sense came back to life.

The sense of touch.

“Kite…can you hear me?”

The softest warmth flittered over my cheek and forehead.

I wanted to moan with sheer pleasure. To answer their question and prove I hadn’t given up, no matter how much I craved sanctuary.

“You’re okay. You’ll be fine.” Warmth darted over my chest, my arm.

Then the sweetest voice whispered in my ear. “I’ve got you, Jet. You’re safe now. Just hang on.”

“SHE’S IN THE bath.”

“She’s not feeling well and can’t come to the door.”

“I have her chair—see? Of course, she’s in here with me.”

“She’s in bed. We had a sleepover and can’t get up.”

I groaned, wiping both hands over my face.

“Nothing will work.”

The empty room swallowed my words, keeping my fibs from reaching Hawk ears.

Ever since leaving Jasmine and Vaughn in the corridor leading toward the kitchens, I’d practiced a believable lie. Only thing was, there was nothing believable. After the visible hatred between Jaz and me at the meeting with the lawyers¸ no one would buy the excuse of a sleepover or girl chat or time willingly spent together.

It’s hopeless.

The best I could hope for was no visitors and for V and Jaz to get back as soon as possible.

My mind skipped back to last night.

My spine had tingled with foreboding as V bent down in the dark and hesitantly plucked Jasmine from her chair. I’d never seen her legs in full view without baggy pyjamas or a blanket hiding the emaciated muscles but seeing them dangle over V’s arms hit me hard.

Once upon a time, she could run and ride horses and chase her brothers.

Now, she had to rely on the brother of her enemy to be her transport.

A brutal price to pay for a payment I didn’t know.

The look in V’s eyes as he’d turned his back on me and left me in the empty corridor with an empty wheelchair squeezed my heart until I couldn’t breathe. Helping a Hawk went against everything he believed in. In his mind, he betrayed his stance on blackmailing with social media, slandering the Hawk name, and standing up for our mother and me.

Yet, here he was, abandoning his sister in order to help another save her brothers.

It wasn’t easy, but he showed me more loyalty and strength than I’d ever seen. Gone was the cocky joker who summoned women with one smirk. Gone was the slight player who’d worked hard but somehow managed to indulge in life with a silver spoon.

As he disappeared with a black-dressed Jaz in his arms, he grew from boy to man, and I’d wanted to run after him and thank him for saving Jethro—for once again putting my happiness above his own and doing what I bade.

It’d taken all my control not to follow. To clutch the handles of Jasmine’s chair and wheel it in the opposite direction.

They’re coming for you, Jethro.

They’ll save you.

It killed me that I wouldn’t be there. That I wouldn’t be the one coaxing him to liveliness, rescuing him from pain. But, at the same time, that right belonged to Jaz. Jethro had sacrificed his life to save hers—it was only fair she did the same.

Then again, she’d dragged my brother into her plotting. There was no telling her plans—whatever they were—would be executed without a hitch. No saying they would be safe.

If Cut found out, Jaz would be punished, Jethro and Kes killed for real, and Vaughn repeatedly beaten. I had no doubt they would destroy him until he begged for death.

And all for what? For the unfortunate curse of being my blood.

Stop thinking about it.

I glared at the wheelchair, lurking in the shadows by the door. It looked so sad, so empty without its owner. The metal machine grieved for its occupant, no longer wanting to provide a purpose without her.

Dawn lurked on the horizon.

Pink swirls and purple splashes slowly pushed aside midnight black.

For the fiftieth time, I looked at the clock.

6:37 a.m.

I’d returned to my room at ten past twelve. Over six hours ago.

Where were they?

What had they been doing?

Are you still alive, Jethro?

Are you safe?

I hadn’t slept. I hadn’t relaxed. How could I when they were out there, sneaking beneath sleeping cameras and saving men who in Cut’s mind were dead?

The dresser was back across the door, firmly wedged and protective. But that didn’t stop my growing panic as each hour traded night for day and the chance of getting caught increased.

“What do you mean Jasmine’s missing? No, she isn’t. She’s here…in the bathroom. And no, you cannot see her.”

I groaned, pacing at the end of my bed. That would fail. If she were in the bathroom, she’d need her chair to move around.

“She’s taking a nap; I don’t want to disturb her.”

All Cut would have to do was bang on the door and ‘wake her up’ to realize there was no nap to disturb.

“God, this isn’t going to work.”

Please, hurry!

The last of moonlight turned to sunlight, glinting off the silver rims of Jasmine’s chair. I had the strangest feeling of not being alone. As if the inanimate object was somehow alive, as if it had a presence in the room—the ghost of Jaz, leaving her impression with me even while she ran escapades with my brother.

What are you doing?