Final Debt (Indebted #6)(61)

Cut shattered our moment, yanking me away from Jethro and dragging me toward the exit. My arm bellowed, but it was nothing compared to the internal shattering at leaving Jethro behind.

At the door, Cut pulled me closer and I staggered in grey imbalance, imprinting Jethro on my soul forever.

His chin cocked, keeping me in his sights for as long as he could. “Don’t give up, Nila. It’s not over.”

Silent tears dripped from my eyelashes as Cut shoved me out the door and separated me from my soul-mate.

The door closed behind me.

Tears fell faster.

Pain billowed thicker.

And all I could do was whisper, “Goodbye.”





“FUCK!”

The door closed. Nila was gone. I remained crumpled on the floor like a discarded f*cking prisoner.

I’d been in worse binds.

Have I?

I liked to think I had and overcome them. That I would overcome this. But how?

My stomach hadn’t unknotted since Cut started his creepy history lesson and worked up to the most horrendous thing I’d ever witnessed.

The slam of the mallet on the love of my life’s arm. The scream as her bone broke.

I shuddered.

It won’t remain the worst thing you’ve ever witnessed if you don’t get your arse off the floor.

The Final Debt.

Jasmine had said Cut planned to carry it out before the week was finished.

The moment he returned to Hawksridge, Nila would be dead.

Ferocity spread through my veins, and for the millionth time, I wriggled and struggled, trying so f*cking hard to get free.

The ropes around my ankles had slid off the chair legs, but my wrists and torso remained tight.

Think. There must be something you can do.

Forcing my breathing to calm, I glanced around the cave. The table with remnants of cast-making equipment was too far away. I might be able to shuffle with the chair attached to my body, but it would waste valuable time and energy. Besides, Cut hadn’t used any sharp implements and the knife he’d utilised to slice Nila free had disappeared with him in his back pocket.

Kes.

It was times like this—when I’d f*cked up and couldn’t see a way free—that he’d come to my rescue. He always came. Always answered his phone if I’d had a relapse, or shared a beer with me when I needed his welcome support.

Kes was the only one I knew who could regulate and calm his emotions to the point of soothing rather than a battering ram. I didn’t know how he did it but being around him was the opposite of being around others.

I miss you, brother.

The door opened.

My eyes shot to it, my heart leaping with hope.

Nila…

Only, it wasn’t Nila.

Marquise stomped inside. His burly size and Black Diamond leather jacket blocked the exit as he turned and relocked the door. He didn’t say a word, merely raised an eyebrow in my direction and sat in the chair Nila had when Cut broke her arm.

He. Broke. Her. Arm.

Motherf*cking bastard.

I’d felt her pain, bewilderment, and terror as the mallet crushed her. I’d felt her fear that she wouldn’t make it through airport security with the bushel of diamonds in her cast.

I wanted to tell her to scream when she boarded the plane. Let the pilots know she had contraband and ought to be detained. If she was caught, they’d hold her, possibly convict her, and she’d remain alive in prison until I could figure out a way to free her.

If she was locked up, Cut couldn’t kill her, and I could hire the best attorneys to dismiss her case. I could show the entire world what my family had been up to. I could rip open the truth and finally, finally show what money could do.

What loyalties it could buy.

What sins it could cover up.

How happy middle-class families were duped by the few who held the wealth of the globe.

If it meant I’d go to jail, so be it.

At least my conscience would finally be clear and Nila would be alive.

And Cut would rot right beside me in an eight by eight cell, never seeing his precious Hawksridge or diamonds again.

The daydream shattered as I twisted to glare at Marquise. I couldn’t get free on my own. But he could help me.

“Free me and I’ll pay you two million pounds.” I tugged on the ropes around my wrists, inhaling hard against the bruising binds across my chest. The car accident battered me and my vision hadn’t stopped spluttering with the massive headache. I hadn’t kept my promise to pay the driver who’d brought me here, and I hadn’t done what I’d vowed by rescuing Nila.

This entire trip had been one big f*ck up. However, I would trade ever feeling whole again, every good thing I’d ever done, if I could rewind time and stop Cut from breaking Nila’s arm.

Marquise grinned. “Your grandmother has paid me far more for my loyalty.” Crossing his arms, he glared. “Stop talking. I won’t let you go for any amount.”

“What about a title? An estate of your own? Shares in our companies?” I spat the lingering taste from my tongue thanks to the awful gag. “Everyone has a price. Name it.”

Marquise inspected his ragged fingernails as if he was a f*cking king on his throne. “I’ll get all of that if I remain true to Bonnie.” He sniffed. “So shut the f*ck up.”

I exhaled heavily. For now, he wouldn’t budge, but he would. I just had to find his weakness. Everyone could be bought. We’d learned that prime example through years of bribery and control.