Final Debt (Indebted #6)(57)

The wave of sickness as mallet defeated bone.

Torment.

The cloud of unconsciousness that numbed everything.

*

The room spun and tilted.

I’m crippled.

The agony swelled and crested.

I’m mutilated.

The mallet left my burning broken bone, resting innocuously beside my wrist like a fallen executioner.

I’m in pieces.

I’m in splinters.

I’m broken.

I threw up.

*

There were two worlds.

The one where I’d existed only moments ago—intact, whole, afraid but complete.

And now, this new one. The one where I shook with excruciating pain…was in pieces…destroyed.

A delayed scream fell from my lips as I cradled my shattered forearm.

I screamed

and screamed

and screamed.

It hurt.

God, how it hurt.

I’d broken pieces of myself in the past. How could I not living a life with vertigo? But I’d never felt it coming. Never seen the pain unfolding. Never heard the agony delivered.

I moaned, battling wave after wave of deep throbbing pain.

Please…make it stop!

Gentle arms cradled me, embracing me, fingers wiping tears from my cheeks. “Told you it would hurt,” Cut murmured.

I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t breathe around him. I couldn’t stay alive in a world where he existed.

No!

Shying away from his touch, I bit my lip hard enough to bleed. My intact fingers wrapped around my broken arm, soothing the burn, wanting to erase the damage. The flesh turned red and swollen, bloating with pain. It wasn’t disfigured or deformed but the hot swell hinted he’d done the damage he’d intended.

He broke it.

He hurt me.

He did this!

Noises clanked beside me.

I didn’t look. I let my hair curtain the outside terrors. I didn’t glance at Jethro. I didn’t blink. I didn’t care.

All I cared about was nursing my battered body and surfing the tsunami of suffering.

Time ticked onward, dragging me further into this new world where I hugged a broken limb. He broke me. He struck me. And all for what? So he could use the wound as a suitcase for his disgusting diamonds.

“Give it to me, please.”

Cut’s voice cut through my horror.

I curled tighter around my injury. “Fuck you.” Tears shot to my eyes. Not again. Please, not again. I couldn’t handle that pain twice.

I should've agreed to the hand job. I should’ve got on my knees and performed the blow-job he’d commanded. I should’ve let him f*ck me—even if it meant Jethro would forever remember my willingness to be raped.

That was what Cut whispered, what he’d promised. He’d vowed I would enjoy it. That if I gladly made him hard, if I obediently removed my clothing and spread my legs, he would make me come, moan, beg for more.

I didn’t believe him. How could I ever do that? How could I ever betray myself in such a way? But I couldn’t trust he wouldn’t play my body better than I could control it. I couldn’t know if the drug-liquor had left my system entirely, and I wouldn’t give in. My options had been submit and let Jethro leave Africa unhurt and alive. Or not agree and watch Cut rip him apart once he’d raped me anyway.

What good were options when they only offered one conclusion?

I’m sorry, Jethro.

He’d come to my rescue only to find Daniel had touched me and I’d touched his father. What a f*cked-up situation to be in.

Cut leaned against the table, his fingers tucking my hair behind my ear. “It’s a simple fracture, Nila. You should be thankful I didn’t slice you open and insert my diamonds directly into your bloodstream.” His touch dropped, tracing an outline on my wrist. “You’ve kept all limbs. You’ve retained your precious body. This is merely a means to the final end.”

I looked up, shaking with anger. The pain plaited with rage as I stared him down. “One day, someone will do to you what you’ve done to others. Someday, your crimes will come back to visit you, and I hope I’m there to tell you to be thankful.”

Cut scowled. “If that day ever comes, Ms. Weaver, I can safely say you will not be in attendance.” Holding out his hand, he snapped, “Now, don’t make me ask again. Give me your arm.”

I twisted my body away, hugging my broken limb. “No.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You already did.”

“What does that tell you?”

I didn’t reply.

He growled, “It tells you I’ll rectify the pain I’ve caused. I have no doubt after each debt Jethro would’ve tended to you. Am I right? He would’ve fixed his wrongs and ensured you were healthy to continue.”

My mouth fell open. “You’re sick.”

I couldn’t stop my eyes flying to Jethro. In my haze of pain, I hadn’t given him attention. I hadn’t seen him thrashing on the floor, desperately trying to get free. I hadn’t witnessed him covering himself in mine dust, furious tears tracking mud down his cheeks.

Oh, Kite.

My heart hurt almost as much as my arm.

Cut pointed to the equipment on the table. “Open your eyes, Nila. What do you think this stuff is?”