Final Debt (Indebted #6)(23)

Stars.

Galaxies.

Lions and tigers and bears.

I lost consciousness.

How long, I didn’t know. I floated in an ocean of affliction, vaguely aware as cold air licked around my hipbones, then arse, then thighs, then toes.

Lucidity slammed back as the rotten feel of his fingers on my * jerked me awake.

I came to with my jeans ripped away and my knickers wrenched to my knees.

The room spun as my cheekbone shrieked in pain. “No…”

“Yes.” Daniel grinned. “I’m going to show you punishment. I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”

The sound of belt buckles and zippers rapidly gathered my wits.

Fight, Nila.

Time had run out.

Daniel would rape me on the floor of a tent in the middle of their diamond empire. I was alone. If I didn’t win, Cut would take me next, and I would crave the day I paid the Final Debt as I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.

Please…

Sobs wanted to take over rather than fight. I’d burned through everything I had.

How can I win when I have nothing left?

Daniel shifted, jerking down his trousers, freeing his red-angry cock. “We’re in f*cking Africa.” Daniel breathed hard, his breath reeking of liquor. “Know what happens in Africa?”

I didn’t respond. I never liked his answers. I hated his answers. Instead, I wriggled, trying to get free.

I’m done.

It was over.

It’s not over!

Memories of altered garments and sewn weapons flooded my mind. How could I forget?

My vision narrowed, searching, flying around the tent.

My jeans.

They rested an arm’s stretch away. In the leg, I’d hidden a scalpel.

The scalpel!

My heart catapulted in my chest with joy. The hidden blade would be my guardian. My saviour. Grunting, I stretched my arm out, fingers fumbling with the denim.

Daniel didn’t care about my attempt to grab discarded clothes. His fingers latched around my collar, shaking me with frustration. “You know, this would be a lot more fun if you played along. Answer me. What happens in Africa, Weaver?”

Spit welled in my mouth—partly from grey sickness and partly from vile disgust. My fingers stretched harder.

I can’t reach.

“Fuck, answer me!”

“I’ll answer you.” Turning my head, I spat in his demonic face. “Shut up! There? That make you happy, arsehole?”

His features contorted, but he didn’t move away. “That’s the last f*cking straw. You pushed too far. Gonna do what I’ve wanted for months.” His breathing turned sporadic. “I’m going to break my promise.”

My heart stopped.

What?

I was torn between straining to reach my jeans and paying attention.

Get them. Before it’s too late.

“I promised Cut I’d leave you alive for him. But after that—” He chuckled coldly, his eyes darkening into golden blackness. “After that blatant disregard, I’m going to f*ck you dead, you hear me? I’m going to make you scream and cry and beg and pray for motherf*cking death.”

He smiled, showing perfect teeth that only childhood braces could deliver. “Get on your knees, bitch.”

Before I could respond, he hooked his fingers tighter in my collar. The thick filigree and impenetrable diamonds were the perfect lasso to jerk me up and flip me over.

No!

My jeans were no longer in reaching distance.

The moment I was on my knees, Daniel spread my legs and grabbed my hips. “Shit, yes.”

I screamed as he dug fingernails into my skin so hard he drew blood.

I gave up trying to reach for help. I gave up trying to remain human. The drugs buzzed in my blood, twisting me with horror and desire. But the desire was no longer for sex or pleasure. Oh, no. This desire was for murder. To rip out his entrails and stuff them in his bleeding mouth. To slice off his cock and present it to Cut as my trophy. This desire was my ignition.

This desire was my annihilation.

Clearheadedness settled into every cell, even as Daniel yanked me back and fisted his cock to thrust inside. Purity and precision slowed my breathing. Certainty and courage stopped my shaking hands. And proficient power guided my fingers to the hem of my hoodie.

I forgot.

But now I remember.

The knitting needle.

The one implement I’d stroked and caressed since leaving Hawksridge. I didn’t need a scalpel. I had something better.

A thirty-five centimetre, single-pointed metal spear.

Closing my eyes, I conjured everything I loved, everyone, every reason why I would survive and Daniel wouldn’t.

Jethro.

Vaughn.

My father.

I would survive for them.

No matter what it takes.

I gave myself over to bloodlust.

I did the one thing I was born to do.

I carried out my promise to my ancestors.

My fingernails were blades as I sliced through the loose stitching and pulled free my weapon of choice. My life might be over. I might be alone. But I wouldn’t die without taking a Hawk with me.

Daniel grunted, lining himself up to rape me.

My skin went cold. My heart went calm. And I fisted my knitting needle.

“You ready for this, Weaver? Ready to be f*cked?”