Final Debt (Indebted #6)(14)

Apart from the obvious destitution of the workers, Cut’s treasure trove looked like any other mine—no diamonds strewn on the ground or sparkling in large barrels in the African night. If anything, the pit was dusty, dirty…utterly underwhelming.

I faced him with an incredulous look. “Like what I see? What exactly? Your love of hurting people or the fact that you murder whenever it benefits you?”

“Careful.” His golden eyes glowed with threats. “Half a kilometre below ground gives many places to dispose of a body and never be found.”

I looked away, wishing I had use of my hands so I could wring his neck. Perhaps, I’ll dispose of you down there.

My hoodie didn’t offer much warmth against the cool sky, but knowing my knitting needle rested in easy reach mollified me.

If I wasn’t tied up, of course.

My fingers turned numb from the tight rope around my wrists.

The lack of sleep and overall situation made my nerves disappear. “Threats. Always threats with you. There comes a time, Bryan, that threats no longer scare, they just make you look stupid.”

Cut sucked in a breath. I didn’t know if it was my use of his given name or my retaliation, but his gaze darkened with lust. “Was I threatening when I killed Jethro or Kestrel? That was decisive action—cutting out the tumour before it infected the host.”

“No, I call that insanity growing more and more rampant.”

His throat constricted as he swallowed. He didn’t say a word as he guided the golf cart to a stop beside a sheer rock wall. The air temperature dropped even more as shadows danced around the mouth of the mine. In front of us, a large opening beckoned. There were no welcome mats or happy wreaths on the door, just rough timber frames, well-tracked mud, and the occasional light disappearing into the belly of this monstrous beast.

Cut launched from his seat and plucked me from mine. “You’ll learn that I don’t believe in threatening, Nila. I believe in action. And tonight, once we return to camp, you’ll find that you’ll crave action, too.”

The way he stressed the word ‘crave’ made my heart rate spike. What did he mean by that?

“No time to waste.” Stepping back, Cut stole my roped hands, guiding me toward the crudely made entrance. Daniel followed, content to listen and watch rather than interrupt.

The second we traded starlight for thick, thick dirt above us, my urge to run accelerated. The timber framework gave way to jutting wooden poles, holding up a tin structure, keeping droplets at bay from the dripping earthen roof.

Exposed light bulbs dangled from the ceiling, casting us in stencils and shadows as we followed the corridor down, down, down then branched off to a large cave-like space.

I blinked, drinking in the array of clothes pegs and large bins labelled with what their contents entailed: dungarees, boots, hammers, chisels, and axes.

I shivered as the cold dampness ate through my clothing.

Daniel moved forward and grabbed a waterproof jacket. His cheeks dimpled cruelly as he sneered, “If only you’d been nice. I might’ve given you a jacket. It gets cold down here.” Grabbing a torch from another barrel, he shrugged. “Oh well, guess you’ll freeze and I’ll have to work extra hard to warm you back up when we return.”

Cut let me go, grabbing his own jacket and slinging it over his shoulders. He merely smiled and didn’t override his youngest’s decision not to give me extra warmth.

So be it.

I gritted my jaw, locking my muscles to hide my shivering.

Daniel patted my arse as he stalked past. “Let’s go to the tally room then we’ll go below.”

Below?

Further…down into the ground?

I…I…

I swallowed, forcing away my panic as I focused on the other word I dreaded.

Tally.

Tally room?

Like the marks on my fingertips?

I looked down at my twined wrists. Smudges and grime covered my index but beneath it, Jethro's marks still rested.

My heart twinged, remembering Jethro bent over and carefully inscribing my skin with his initials. The ink wouldn’t last forever; it’d already faded from washing my hands, but I loved having his mark there—in a way, it made him immortal. Even when I thought he was dead, his signature remained on my skin.

He’ll come for me.

I knew that. But I also knew he wouldn’t be in time.

I sucked in a heavy breath. If I never saw him again, at least we had the night in the stables. At least I got to see him one last time.

“Good plan.” Cut took my hand, dragging me deeper into the mine. More carts and trolleys, even an old Jeep littered the underground pathway. I hadn’t expected such a huge size. The mine had the air of an unseen city, complete with transportation, inhabitants, and daily commuters heading to their offices.

The lights did their best to push back the gloom, but between the strung bulbs, a cloying blackness permeated my skin and clothes. The stench of damp earth couldn’t be dispelled, nor could the underlying fear that any moment the world could collapse and I’d be buried forever.

Goosebumps scattered over my arms as we entered another small cave where numerous tables had been set with scales, plastic containers, and ziplock bags. This room was brightly lit, pretending it had its own sun and not banished to the underworld.

“This is where every worker must drop his haul at the end of the shift.” Cut waved at the room. “The diamonds are washed, weighed, measured, and lasered with the fair trading IPL code before being sorted into equal distribution for shipment.”