Final Debt (Indebted #6)(12)

The darkness of the sky illuminated every few seconds with a red flash from the wing tip, keeping time with my ragged heartbeat.

I hadn’t calmed since Jasmine’s phone call.

After galloping to the garage, I’d left Wings to find his way back to the stables and traded him for a different kind of horse-power. My Harley snarled in the afternoon sun, hurling me down our driveway and to the airport.

I didn’t think to seek out Flaw. I didn’t have time to tell my sister my plan.

All I focused on was getting to the airport and a charter.

However, I should’ve used my brain rather than my fearful heart. There were no charters or private planes available that late in the day. No pilots on call. No one to bribe to fly.

I had no choice but to hurtle to Heathrow and board the next available flight to South Africa. Getting to the airport, buying a ticket, and arguing over the fastest service had all cost valuable time.

Time I didn’t have.

No quick routes. No private planes.

My only option had been a cramped, overbooked flight with three stops before reaching my destination. Even if I’d waited for twenty-four hours and hired a private jet, the long haul commercial flight would’ve been faster.

So I bought a ticket.

I sent Nila a text:

Kite007: I’m coming. Hang on. Do whatever it takes to stay alive. I love you so f*cking much.

She hadn’t replied. If she had been able to take her cell phone, she wouldn’t have reception in the sky. And if Cut had stolen it from her, I would have no way to warn her of my arrival.

Yet another problem in my problem-riddled future.

Flying while fearing for the life of a loved one was bad enough. But flying with an empathetic condition and a healing gunshot wound was a hundred times f*cking worse.

Every takeoff and landing, every airport and taxi, I lost more of my humanity and focused on bloodlust, plotting what I would do to Cut and Daniel when I arrived.

The promise of wide open spaces and empty African plains helped me remain sane in the tinderbox of airplane madness.

I’d always avoided public spaces for long periods. Flying with Nila from Milan had been the first time I’d suffered in years. For all intents, before Nila came into my life, I was a recluse. Hawksridge my sanctuary and Diamond Alley my office. I had no need to mingle with strangers.

Another whirlpool of conflicting passenger emotions bottled up in a tiny fuselage with no outlet. I did my best to ignore them. Did my best to cultivate my hate and let the single-minded determination give me peace.

Grabbing the napkin from the cognac I’d ordered an hour ago, I shredded it as my heart worked double time. My side bellowed and a fever dotted my brow. Timelines and countdown clocks swarmed my mind as I worked out how far ahead Nila was.

At best, eight to nine hours.

At worse, ten to twelve.

Nila might’ve been spared pain and rape.

She might still have time.

But three-quarters of the way over the Atlantic Ocean, I knew I’d run out of minutes.

They’d arrived at Almasi Kipanga.

She was on her own.





I STOOD ON the lip of a colossal mine.

The teeth of the earth yawned wide, its tongue and tonsils butchered by spades and diggers, its innards exposed to the night sky in the hunt for diamonds and wealth.

Staring into the pit hurt something deep inside. It wasn’t for the broken trees left to rot unwanted, or the ebony-skinned workers toiling in the muck. It wasn’t the stagnant air of degradation and robbery. It was the sadness that something as precious and rare as diamonds—that the earth had created over millennia—had been so callously stolen with no grace or thanks.

“Impressive. Isn’t it?” Cut slung his arm over my shoulders.

I flinched but didn’t move away.

Not that I could.

A coarse rope bit into my wrists, wound tightly by Cut when he’d come for me.

I’d expected the Third Debt to be carried out the moment Cut returned from whatever errands he ran. I’d sat on the bed, pricking the tips of my fingers with the hidden knitting needle, never taking my eyes off the entrance to my tent.

My stomach grumbled. Energy depleted. But I’d refused to fall asleep. I would face my nightmare while awake.

It was the only way.

The cool African night had gnawed on my skin; goosebumps prickled as the humph humph of lions echoed through the fabric house.

They sounded so close. So hungry.

Then, all at once, it seemed as if an orchestra conductor arranged a quartet of laughing hyenas, bays of zebras, and hoots of owls.

The animal song raised my stress levels until I’d shivered with terror.

“Are you listening to me?” Cut’s voice sliced through my thoughts. I hadn’t rested or slept in forever; my reactions were sluggish.

I blinked. “You were saying something about quantity and how much—”

“No!” He jerked the rope around my wrists. “I was telling you how deep Almasi Kipanga goes. In centuries of mining, we’ve found seams and seams of stones. We continue to expand and the mine is currently half a kilometre below earth. Can you comprehend that?”

I shook my head. All I could think about was how dark and claustrophobic it would be. A tomb just waiting to fall like countless dominos, smothering anyone inside it.

Daniel smiled. “That’s years of digging. Millions upon millions of diamonds carved out of the dirt. If a seam dries up, a new route is planned.” His teeth flashed. “One lucky worker is given the job of setting explosives to disrupt any loose landslides or cave-ins.”