Final Debt (Indebted #6)(73)

I f*cking miss you, Kestrel.

“For Kes.” Hanging up, my eyes fell on the clouds and world far below us.

Up here, I was closer to my brother. Closer to his untethered soul.

If you can hear me, brother. Don’t leave. Not yet. Things will be better after tonight. You’ll be safe. Jaz will be safe. We can have the life you always dreamed.

Turbulence hit the plane, bouncing us like a skittle.

I liked to think it was him…telling me he’d heard and wouldn’t give up.

Stay alive. Give me a little more time.

And then wake up and come home.





“COME HERE, CHILD.”

All I wanted to do was escape, to be alone so I could drop the mask of defiance and indifference. It took every effort to come across contrite and fearful but not guilty and sinful.

Daniel’s death glowed inside me, giving me power. But I couldn’t deny I was tired. I needed to rest...in case I said something stupid and escalated my death from tomorrow to today.

Jethro…keep breathing.

Every time I thought of him, the image of dank mines and oppressive walls came back. I hated him trapped down there, alone, hurting.

I knew so much now. I knew about Mabel and William. I knew a secret both Bonnie and Cut didn’t know.

The secret burned a hole in my soul because what good was a secret if I died with it—especially when it would grant pain to hear it.

If I tell her, I could kill her before she tells anyone else…

My heart skipped.

Yes, I like that plan.

Bracing my shoulders, I moved toward Bonnie. She’d escorted me into her quarters, ferrying me into the lift I assumed Jasmine used to move around. I’d never been in the silver box and hated travelling even a small distance with Bonnie in such a tight space.

Jasmine.

Does she know I’m back?

Could she sense her brother’s predicament? Was she like Vaughn and in-tune with her sibling’s well-being?

Vaughn.

Could he tell I’d been hurt? Where was he? The entire drive from the airport, I’d feared he would be at Hawksridge, firing cannons and charging with some fictional cavalry to rescue me.

But he wasn’t.

I was both glad and heartbroken.

Jethro couldn’t save me this time. I would do my best—I wouldn’t die without a fight—but what if it wasn’t enough? I was more alone here than I was at the mine. At least there I was surrounded by strangers. Here, I was surrounded by enemies.

Stop that.

It took every last reserve, but I shoved my fears deep, deep inside and embraced antagonising pompousness.

Bonnie expected me to be as broken as my arm.

She was very much mistaken.

Cocking my chin, I pranced toward her. “Did you miss me?” I eyed up her quarters. “Last time I was in here, I seem to remember I taught you seamstresses are better than flower arrangers.”

Bonnie’s rouge-painted cheeks whitened. “And I seem to recall I showed you what happened to Owen and Elisa and proved Jethro played into the hands of fate. He’s dead because of you. Congratulations.”

Goosebumps darted over my skin. I probably shouldn’t but Cut would tell her. I wanted to be the one to deliver the news. “He’s not dead. He’s alive and coming for you.”

Wishes were free. Threats were cheap. I could taunt her even knowing Jethro remained bound to a chair and lorded over by Marquise.

She fisted the top of her cane. She didn’t break decorum, merely looking a little ruffled and a lot annoyed. “I highly doubt that. How is he still alive? What exactly is the meaning of this nasty business?”

I glided forward. “You don’t deserve to know.” The pictures of Owen and Elisa still graced the walls. The overwhelming perfume of her flower arrangements poisoned the air.

My skin crawled with how much I despised her.

Die, witch. Die.

Bonnie came closer, her cane sinking into the carpet, her red lipstick once again smeared on pencil thin lips. “You look at me as if I’m the devil. You’re such a stupid child. Go on, you have my permission. What do you see when you look at me?”

My mouth parted, sensing a trap.

She waved her stick. “Go on. I want to know.”

I balled my hands, rising to her challenge. “Fine. I see a twisted, old woman who’s controlled her son and grandsons with no mercy. I see a soulless creature who doesn’t know the meaning of love. I see a scorned hate-filled Hawk who never understood the true value of family.” My voice lowered to a hiss. “I see a walking dead woman.”

She chuckled. “You have more perception than I gave you credit for.” Sniffing, she looked down her nose. “You’re right on some accounts. I have controlled my son and grandsons because, without me, they wouldn’t have the discipline required to maintain the Debt Inheritance and future responsibilities of this family.”

“When you’re dead, your legacy will die with you.”

“Yes, perhaps.” She smiled. “But you’ll be dead long before me, Ms. Weaver. Perhaps you should remember that so you don’t forget your place.” Stabbing her cane into the carpet, she sneered. “Now, enough, what do you have to say for yourself?”

My hands fisted. I stared at the flower arrangement on the trestle by the door. I’d had to stand there and listen to her high-class airs and demands, seething while she speared lilies and roses into oasis foam.