Third Debt (Indebted #4)(16)
Author: Pepper Winters

“Fair enough.” I let the blindfold fall from my fingers and onto her thigh. “Are you going to try to run again? Or have you accepted that your home is now with me?”

I hadn’t meant to word it like that. I’d meant to say had she accepted that she would die on this estate. That her life out there—her home in London—was over, done.

Forever.

Nila’s gaze delved into mine. I felt her probing my soul, looking for answers and hope.

I didn’t have to stop her or hide.

There was nothing inside that shouldn’t be there. Not anymore.

I was proud of who I’d become.

And it was all thanks to the little white tablets in my pocket.

After a long minute, she replied, “My home is with you, Kite. I know that. I think I’ve always known that.” She licked her bottom lip. “I won’t run. I won’t leave you. Not again. Whatever happened to you the past few weeks, I’m willing to look past it because I know what we found together is true and this…” She waved at me as if I offended her. “This is a lie that I don’t buy.”

My heart skipped—just a small skip—before settling into its wintry shell. Her power over me was gone. It’d just been tested and proven.

“You don’t have to buy anything for it to be the truth.”

She sighed. “No, but I can hope.”

“Hope is as useless as love, Nila Weaver.” Shoving the blindfold back into my pocket, I gunned the bike and took her the final distance home.

The underground parking garage housed thirty or so bikes for the Black Diamond brothers. We’d built the bunker especially for our MC, hidden away in case the police ever raided us, which until last month was never a possibility.

Now it might be thanks to the fucking Weavers and their lies to the local papers. Our bribes worked perfectly to keep the law on our side. But when strangers started moaning and demanding justice, it wasn’t a simple matter of turning a blind eye anymore.

Luckily, we had a plan. Damage control was in full swing, and after a few weeks out of the limelight, Nila would be forgotten and the world would continue.

We also had a trump card.

The one thing Vaughn couldn’t get his sister to do: a private interview.

Later today, Nila would answer all the questions the world wanted to know. She would shed her silence and feed the media a story that would put an end to the disgusting rumours in a carefully scripted pantomime, then she would go back to belonging to us. To me.

Plucking my captive from my bike, I discarded my helmet and jacket.

She was back where she belonged, but first there was a simple matter to attend to. One that my father had pointed out and shown me how important it was after my indiscretions.

He was wise, my father. I hoped to rule like him when it was my turn.

“Come with me.” Taking her wrist again, I half-escorted, half-dragged Nila through the underground garage and into the private elevator that spat us out by the stables.

Neither of us spoke as we traversed the grass beneath the pink-silver light of dawn. The Hall loomed before us, its turrets glowing with sunrise and stained glass windows looking as if blood ran down the panes.

Flaw and Kestrel had gone—no doubt already snoring in their beds.

I hadn’t slept much last night, but I wasn’t tired. Far from it. I was awake and ready to prove my worth.

My fingers itched to open my tablet bottle. It wasn’t time for another dose, but the way my heart skipped back at the gatehouse proved the fog needed reinforcing.

Now Nila was back in my vicinity, I would have to keep an eye on my dosage—increase the prescription to remain immune to whatever tricks she might play.

“Where are you taking me?” Nila asked as we stepped into the hushed world of Hawksridge and prowled through its sleepy corridors.

I didn’t reply. She had no right to know. She would understand the moment we arrived.

It didn’t take long, another few minutes before I stopped and opened a large carved door in the north wing of the house.

The space wasn’t as big as many of the other rooms, but it’d been staged with the equipment required.

My lips twitched into half a smile as Nila crossed the threshold.

The moment her eyes landed on the medical table in the centre of the room, her mouth fell open in horror. “What—what is this?”

She struggled in my hold while I reached behind her and locked the door.

She wasn’t stupid.

She knew this wouldn’t end well.

The light in her face went out. Her eyes widened in horror. I’d been right to suspect her motives. Did she not think I would see? That her messages weren’t so fucking obvious?

“I’m not someone you can manipulate, Ms. Weaver.” I patted her arse as I moved forward. A reclining chair suddenly swivelled around, revealing my father.

His eyes landed on Nila, glowing gold with triumph. “Ah, welcome, my dear. So glad to see you after this dreadful time apart.” He raised his tumbler of cognac. “It wasn’t the same without you here. Was it, Kite?”

I no longer hated my bird of prey nickname. I no longer despised my father using it. In fact, it was an honour. Before, it was a constant reminder that I was born and bred to be something I could never be—now it was a badge of distinction. I’d somehow achieved the impossible and become the perfect fucking son.

Smiling at Nila, I answered, “No. It wasn’t the same without her.”

If only she knew what’d happened while she was off playing seamstress with her brother. If only she knew what Cut had done to me, what I’d done in return. She wouldn’t have come willingly. She would’ve done anything to avoid being my prisoner again.

“Jethro…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes never leaving the table. “What is the meaning of this?”

Cut laughed. “Come now, child. You can’t play that card with us. You know as well as I do what you’ve done to deserve this.”

“Please!” Nila plastered herself against the door, jiggling the doorknob with her hand. It was pointless. I had the key in my pocket. “You don’t have to do this.”

Cut slowly placed his empty glass on the table and stood. Undoing his cufflinks, he rolled up his sleeves, systematically and refined, never rushing. “I think you’ll find, my dear, that we do.”

Nodding in her direction, he ordered, “Jet, enough dallying. Grab the girl and let’s get on with this.”

“Be my pleasure.” I advanced on Nila.

Blues and greys decorated the room. The wallpaper was an oriental silk that was so vibrant, the indigo pattern bounced off Nila’s black hair.

“Stop it,” Nila snarled. “Don’t.”

Standing in front of her, I held out my hand. “This can be easy or hard. Your choice.”

“I hate it when you do that! Can’t you see I don’t want a choice?!”

I narrowed my eyes. What the fuck did that mean?

Cut chuckled. “You want us to take full responsibility for what’s happening to you, is that right? When will you admit that you’re the same as us? Doing something willingly doesn’t mean you’re going to hell, pretty girl. But fighting us at every step doesn’t mean you’ll go to heaven, either.”

I waved my hand, openly revealing the tattoos on my fingertips. “Your choice, Nila. Own free will or restraints.”

Nila visibly trembled. A curtain fell over her face, blocking all thoughts.

In a quick move, as if her courage would desert her, she pushed off from the door and brushed past me.

I smiled, dropping my hand. “Good girl.”

“Where?” Nila snapped when she stood by the table, her body vibrating with tension.

“Climb on,” Cut said.

With ferocity coating her face, Nila scooted onto the table and lay down. She lay there as if she was in a coffin. Her hands clasped tight on her lower belly, her chest rising and falling with panic.

She refused to look at either of us, glowering at the ceiling.

Cut patted her arm. “See…that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

She stiffened, her fingers turning white.

Cut stroked her gently. “I must admit. I missed your presence in my home.” He smiled wider. “You’re such fun to torment.” He traced her collarbone. “However, these past few weeks have been rather enlightening. In fact, I’m delighted with the outcome and only have you to thank for it.” Throwing a look my way, he grinned. “You gave me my son. My real son. And for that I will always be grateful to you, my dear.”

Bending over, he pressed a soft kiss on her mouth.

Nila shuddered, twisting her head to the side.

I just stood there.

No feeling.

No jealousy.

No remorse.

“Don’t fight it,” Cut murmured. “Don’t ruin what you’ve started.”

Nila pressed herself deeper onto the table, no doubt trying to become invisible but not succeeding. I moved closer, taking the side opposite my father. Her eyes met mine, wide and feral. She sent a silent message, so loud and obvious I was sure my father saw.

Why are you doing this?

I thought you cared for me?

I had no intention of replying. If she opened her naïve little eyes, she would see my answer without me spelling it out for her. This was what happened to those who broke promises. She was a true Weaver. And I was finally a true Hawk.