Final Debt (Indebted #6)(56)

Turning her head to spit it out, Cut held the stick in place. “Ah, ah, ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Her eyes glared daggers.

“Bite down.” Cut slowly removed his hand, daring her to dispel it.

Nila paused, the stick remaining lodged in her teeth. Her eyebrow rose with questions as Cut slowly picked up a black rubber mallet. A type of mallet used for hitting unwilling pieces of timber or coaxing nails into holes. A hammer that would bring untold pain.

She sucked in air around the stick, her struggles renewing. “No!” Her voice wavered around the obstruction.

“I told you, bite down.” His fingers latched tighter around the mallet. “This will hurt.”

No!

My heart lurched as I twisted and bucked. “Stwrop!” I despised not being able to move, to talk, to shout, to help. “Nwoooo!”

Nila.

Fuck, I’m so sorry.

“What—what’s—” Nila couldn’t tear her eyes away from the mallet. Her entire body went on lockdown. “Cut…don’t.” The stick remained in her teeth, her tongue forming words with care.

His eyes glinted. “When William’s reputation of priceless diamonds made its way around the city, more and more people tried to rob him. Opportunists and pirates all wanted a piece of his good fortune even when he’d paid so much for it. Thieves. Cheapskates. They all deserved to hang.”

Nila whimpered, fighting his hold as Cut braced his legs, preparing to deliver the Fourth Debt.

My heart bucked, smashing against bruised ribs, leaping into the throbs inside my head. From my angle on the floor, the world tilted sideways, my mind straining to stay with her, to find a way free.

“William constantly had to come up with new ways to smuggle his cargo into the country. He started with the obvious: the orifices of his men. The switch and ruse. The fake packaging ploy. But after time, each one would fail as word got out of the latest scam.

“Even in the last few decades, we suffered our own setbacks. Our smuggling mules would swallow the diamonds or wrap small quantities around their stomach and legs, and fly in sweating guilt and terror—guaranteed to have the shipment ceased upon arrival. Or they’d shove them in arseholes and pussies but that’s become too widely used by drug traffickers and with tighter border security, not practical. So…we came up with a new plan.”

His voice thickened. “Know how we solved this problem?”

Nila shook her head, black hair sticking to sweaty cheeks, tears cascading in streams.

“Sewing into flesh.”

She sucked in a horrified breath, the air whistling around her stick.

Cut frowned. “The sewing was rather barbaric and didn’t have such satisfactory results. A doctor would cut a mule in the least invasive place, insert a few packets of diamonds, and sew them back up. Once the traveller arrived at their destination, the wound was reopened, diamonds removed, and their sum paid. However, the risk of infection and hospitalisation was too high.

“So…we came up with a better idea.”

He twisted his wrist, dragging Nila’s attention back to the black mallet in his fist. “We don’t cut anymore, we break. We offer legitimate disabilities while using the fracture as the perfect alibi.” He grinned. “Understand what I’m saying, Nila?”

Shit.

I gave everything I had left. My wrists soaked with blood as I fought the rope. My back splintered with every wriggle. I couldn’t watch. I couldn’t prevent what Cut would do. I couldn’t do a thing as he broke her and dressed her in diamonds.

I yelled profanity, choking on the gag. I wanted to talk to her. Comfort her. I didn’t want to fail her all over again.

Shock electrocuted her system. She spat out the stick even though she’d need it to ride the upcoming pain. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m deadly serious.” Cut’s smile twisted his face into horror. “You had the choice to make me hard and deliver pleasure with your right hand. You had my cock in your fingers, your future in your grasp, yet you threw it in my f*cking face. Well, your right arm will pay, Nila. It now has a different task.”

Nila fought harder, scratching at Cut’s hold with her free hand. “No, let me go. Let me—”

“You really should’ve bit down like I told you. Too late now.” Cut didn’t soften, raising the mallet above his head. “Do you repent? Do you take ownership of your family’s sins and agree to pay the debt?”

“No! Hell no!”

“Wrong answer.” Cut prepared to strike.

“No. Wait!”

His jaw clenched.

“Stop, please!”

“With or without your ownership, I won’t stop.”

His gaze glowed.

His arm sailed down.

The mallet became a black boulder of agony.

“This is going to hurt.”





THE MALLET SOARED downward.

No!

The whistle of wind heralded imminent agony.

Please!

The small cry was my soul escaping.

Don’t!

The silent scream from Jethro was my undoing.

*

The crack of impact.

Pain.

The loud splinter of skeleton giving way.

Torture.