Debt Inheritance (Indebted #1)(34)

Shoving me away, I ping-ponged from father to son, coming to an abrupt halt in Jethro’s arms. The relief at being away from the man who’d murdered my mother made my limbs weak and jittery, but I couldn’t stop the hatred from gnawing a gaping hole in my soul. I needed it out. I needed it spoken so he would know the debt might not have ended with my mother but it would end with me.

It will.

“I pity you. I knew nothing about you, your sons, your warped perception of life until tonight. I may not know why you’re doing this but I do know one thing. I know that it’s the last time you’ll ever do it.”

“Shut up!” Jethro shook me. But I wasn’t scared of him. I wasn’t scared of any of them anymore. They were bullies. Sadistic bastards who’d met their match.

Struggling in his arms, I freed my hand, pointing a livid finger at Mr. Hawk. I lost my rage, tilting head first into lunacy. My temper gave me power over everything. My cursed balance. My sheltered beginnings. In that one moment of brazenness, I found a nucleus of strength I didn’t know I had.

My voice pitched as I yelled, “I’ll kill you! I’ll watch you die just like you watched my mother—I’ll kill you! You don’t deserve to live. I’ll kill you and—” I launched myself at him, only to stumble and go slamming back against a powerful form.

Jethro grabbed my shaking arm, pinning it to my side. His strong hold crashed me against his body, moulding my wiggling behind against his rigid front.

His body was hard and firm—exactly like the stone I thought he was. The bulge in his trousers pressed against my lower spine.

“You’ve pushed me too far. You just had to f*cking push. No one threatens my family, least of all a girl who can barely stand without support. And a Weaver.” He spat on my feet. “Fucking filth.”

“Remove her from my sight.” Mr. Hawk sniffed. “Teach her her place, Jethro. I won’t put up with such stupid behaviour.” His eyes landed on me. “As for you. I’d hoped you’d show more promise. Think what you want of us, Ms. Weaver, but this isn’t a simple matter that will end quickly. You’re ours for however long we wish to keep you and you’ll learn proper manners if we have to beat it into you.”

Nodding at Jethro, he climbed the steps to the two story sized front door and disappeared.

The moment he vanished, my spine rolled and I wanted nothing more than to fall to my knees and cry.

What was I thinking?

My rage and hatred snuffed out like a candle in a storm. I’d never been so out of control. My emotions had held me hostage and I’d snapped—for the first time since my mother left—I’d succumbed to the intense freedom of bitterness.

Jethro dragged me backward, his dress shoes crunching against gravel. He didn’t wait for me to back-peddle, just clutched me hard, dragging me like an already dead corpse. “You’ve surprised me twice tonight, and I haven’t liked either of them. You’ve pissed me off. So much so that—”

Slamming to a halt, he shoved my shoulder blades. “Get on your knees.”

I wheeled forward, crashing from standing to landing on all fours.

No!

I winced as the driveway bit into my palms; my knees throbbed as sharp pebbles cut into my skin. I looked up, my face swollen and achy from unpermitted tears welling as deep as a bottomless lake.

This was the truth. This humiliation and admittance of power, not the farce he’d painted.

Jethro towered above, his legs planted wide, face etched in livid anger. “I’m a firm advocator of rewarding good behaviour but after tonight you’ve proven there is nothing to reward. You’re wild, unwilling, and a spoiled brat who will learn her place.”

Leaning down, he grabbed my long hair, jerking it hard. “Did you honestly think, after an outburst like that, that you’d deserve the comfort of a bed? Why do it, Ms. Weaver, when you knew what was on the line?”

I couldn’t speak. My throat was pulled back, the pressure stopping all sounds and swallows.

“I have a good mind to f*ck you right here. To smash whatever sense of entitlement or hope you’re holding onto.” He shook me.

My eyes watered at the pain.

“You’re not hearing me. This is your life now. I am your only friend. Stop. Pissing. Me. Off.”

You’re not my friend. I have one, and his name isn’t Jethro.

Kite.

I didn’t think I’d want to message him so soon, but I needed someone from the outside world. I needed reminding that the universe hadn’t entered an alternate dimension and there was still hope.

When I remained silent, Jethro snarled, “You’re sleeping with the dogs. They have better obedience than you, perhaps you can learn from them on what we expect.”

I sniffed, fighting so hard against the tears.

I didn’t even care that I wouldn’t sleep in a bed. I was past worrying about sanitary conditions or nutritious food. All I wanted was freedom. All I needed was some time alone to gather my scattered self-worth and remember who I was.

“Move,” Jethro breathed, his beloved silence smoothing his outburst from before. “Don’t make me show you how a good dog moves.”

He wants you to crawl.

It had begun.

This was the beginning. And I’d brought it upon myself.

He wants to destroy you.