First Debt (Indebted #2)(27)

Cut chuckled. “Your mother said the same thing, but by the end, she willingly paid the last debt. A pet can only hate its owner for so long. But ply it with warmth, safety, kindness, and good food, and soon…you’ll have no choice but to let go of that hatred in your heart and embrace the life we’re giving you.”

“The life you mean to steal.”

He nodded. “The life we mean to steal. But also the life we will continue to nurture as long as we have your strict obedience.” His eyes landed on me. “Give me an update, Jet. How are things progressing? Have you followed my instructions?”

Not one.

Not a single f*cking rule had I followed. And yet…what had happened in the woods after I’d hunted her down had taken something from her. We’d shared something. Something I never wanted to share with another human being, because it made me feel so damn weak.

Ignoring the question, I sat taller. “The First Debt will be paid this afternoon.”

Nila sucked in a breath. Her fear of the unknown did a much better job than I ever could.

Cut relaxed into his chair. “Good.”

A second passed.

Another ticked silently before Nila snapped, “Have you forgotten my promise so soon, Mr. Hawk?”

The table froze; men looked from the skinny seamstress to their leather-jacketed leader.

Cut tensed. “No, I haven’t forgotten.”

“I meant what I said,” Nila growled. “I will kill you. You can pretend you’re kind and keep me in good health, but I will never forget what you’ve done.”

I stood up, slapping my palms loudly on the table. “Ms. Weaver!”

Her head snapped in my direction, her dark eyes blazing. “Was I talking to you? You’re as bad as he is. I have a good mind to kill you, too.”

My heart raced, shedding the glacier in favour of excitement.

Excitement? How the hell did she confuse me and draw out such lubricous reactions? “Oh, you can try. We’ll see who wins. A seasoned hunter or a fumbling dressmaker? I know who I’d place money on.”

Nila shoved her chair back, standing in one swift move. She looked as if she would hurl herself over the table to slap me.

Cut shouted, “Out! All of you.”

Shit.

Tearing my eyes from the trembling, angry woman before me, I muttered, “Cut, let me—”

Punish her.

Fuck her.

Ruin her in my own way.

Anything to stop you from touching what’s mine.

My father pursed his lips, pointing at the doors. “Out. I won’t ask again.”

The Diamond brothers stood up, their chairs sliding over thick carpet, before disappearing out the door in creaking leather and boots.

Daniel, Kes, and I didn’t move.

Nila stood locked in place.

Cut raised his eyebrow. “I believe I just gave an order?”

“What? All of us?” Kestrel asked, disbelief in his voice.

Cut didn’t reply, only glowered until the power of his rank, and the fact he was not only our father but our president, overrode our rebellion.

My brothers stood.

I gritted my teeth as Kes placed a hand on Nila’s shoulder, sharing a look with her that made my stomach f*cking shake off any pretence of ice and go nuclear with fury.

Nila smiled softly, standing and moving toward the exit.

“Not you, Ms. Weaver. You and I are going to have a little chat,” Cut said quietly.

Nila closed her eyes briefly, blocking her panic. When she opened them again, all that remained was reckless confidence.

I wanted to say something, but my tongue tied into a useless piece of meat.

“Out, Jethro. I won’t ask again.”

Nodding once at my father, I moved stiffly. Nila refused to meet my eyes as I stalked out of the room, following my two siblings.

The last thing I heard as the doors closed was my father’s voice. “Now that we’re alone, my dear, I have something I want to share with you.”





I COULDN’T MOVE.

My knees locked against buckling. My heart thundered from fighting with Jethro. I hated myself for missing him. The instant the door closed behind him, I couldn’t stop the overwhelming urge to follow.

It’s because you think you understand him enough to predict his next atrocity.

I supposed that was right. Locked in a room with the man who killed my mother was a lot worse than being with the son I began to see as more than just a cold piece of ice.

“Sit, Nila.” Mr. Hawk smiled from the head of the table. I was grateful he didn’t come toward me or request that I go to him. But it did nothing to stop fear, repulsion, and rage from saturating my heart.

Pouring himself some orange juice from the carafe beside him, he muttered, “You have such a low opinion of us.”

Slowly, I sank back into my chair. Gripping the lip of the table, I forced myself to stay calm and ready to fight. “What do you expect? You stole me then let your men lick me.”

“Did they hurt you?”

His question hung heavy between us.

I wanted to lie and say yes they’d hurt me. Mentally scarred me. But that wouldn’t be the truth. If anything, they’d been the first step into finally embracing the strength I’d always been afraid of. Hurt me? Yes, they’d transformed me into a stranger.