Fourth Debt (Indebted #5)(25)

“What are you up to, Jaz?”

Her eyes wrenched up. “Finally! You finally ask a decent question.” She looked over her shoulder. “Let me in. I’ll tell you.”

I shook my head. “Nope. Not going to happen.”

“I don’t have all freaking night, Nila. Let me inside before it’s too late.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What—what do you mean? Too late?”

“I’ll tell you if you open the door.”

“Tell me before I open the door.”

I wasn’t na?ve anymore. I wouldn’t fall for any more Hawk traps.

She had her motives and secrets—same as everyone else. Only, what she’d said about listening…what did she mean? With my instincts? With my heart? What could she possibly have to tell me that I didn’t already know?

She was a heartless bitch who should’ve died and not her brother.

She scowled, her sleek black bob pinned back from her face. The more I looked at her, the more my heart raced. Something was off—something was wrong.

She looked like a ninja about to go on a robbery spree.

She looked as if she knew something I didn’t.

She looked as if everything she’d lived through the past few hours was a lie. And this was the truth.

This was real.

I lowered my knife. “What—what’s going on?”

She smiled tightly, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. “Will you believe me? Are you finally listening?”

Goosebumps scattered over my arms.

I swallowed. I nodded.

She sagged as if she could finally share the burden she carried.

“In that case…” She sucked in a breath. “I need your help.”

It took an eternity for me to find courage.

I knew the moment I spoke, my world would change all over again.

Finally, I murmured, “Why?”

Reaching through the door, she grasped my hand.

Her eyes glossed.

Her lips trembled.

Her voice split me in two.

“I need your help…because…” She squeezed my fingers, joy exploding on her face. “Nila, he’s alive.”





DEATH WAS WORSE than I ever imagined.

I’d hoped when the day came that it would be gentle—a tender snip when I was old and grey—a simple transition from one world to the next. It didn’t matter that I never believed I would reach old age…it was what I’d fantasised.

However, if I had known how excruciating it would be, if I’d guessed how prolonged and agonising actual dying was—I would’ve put myself out of my misery years ago.

Because this? There was nothing survivable about this.

This wasn’t heaven. Shit, it wasn’t even hell.

It was damnation on Earth and still I clung—no matter how f*cking painful.

“You still—” I coughed, unable to continue. My lungs were heavy, my body on fire. I existed on the brink. The brink of slipping far, far away and never coming back.

I wasn’t dehydrated or starved.

I wasn’t cold or unprotected.

But none of those simple human requirements could save me. I’d run out of time, and it was now a simple matter of gambling on which malady would kill me.

The steady bleeding?

The spreading fever?

The bullet hole?

I’d given up trying to choose. I thought I’d faded hours ago, finally giving in to the pain.

But no.

I still clung, dangling off the proverbial cliff, too weak to let go and too weak not to.

God, please let it end!

I flinched as I sucked in a deeper breath.

Breathing…funny how I hated and loved the action.

Hated because another breath meant I’d survive another few minutes. Loved because another breath meant I still existed for Nila.

Nila…

My heart tried to hurry, conjuring the dark-haired seamstress who’d captured my heart. But all it managed was a pathetic patter.

Groaning with the weight of a thousand daggers, I looked at the cot across the dungeon from mine.

How we arrived down here, I had no f*cking clue.

Why we had drips in our hands, blankets bundled around us, and crudely administered medicine was an utter mystery.

Who did this?

How long had we been here?

How much time had passed?

Was this perhaps purgatory? A place of in-between, a deplorable existence where only the worst went to pay penance?

We couldn’t possibly be alive. Could we?

A flickering light in the corner kept the vampires of the crypt at bay, but it offered no warmth—no reprieve from the ancient ice seeping into my bones from the godforsaken catacombs.

I stared fuzzily at the shape of a man cocooned in blankets. Only, he hadn’t moved, moaned, or made a sound in hours. My gift—no, my curse—no longer worked.

There was someone else down here with me. Yet, there were no thoughts, no fears, no pleas.

I didn’t want to admit it, but my brother…he was no longer alive. However, I had to try to bring him back from the dead. I had to remind him I was there for him—for him not to give up, even though slipping off the cliff became more enticing every minute. “You—you still a—alive, K—Kes?”