Fourth Debt (Indebted #5)(43)

Switching on another side lamp, I bent to my task of repairing the lace with painstaking needlework. It wasn’t late, but the sun had set a few hours ago and Hawksridge creaked around me, depositing its residents into the night. The growls of motorbikes shattered the wintery air, Black Diamonds disappearing to run another smuggling delivery.

I lost myself in the exquisite craftsmanship, giving myself over to scattered thoughts. Jaz and Vaughn’s rescue mission had gone unnoticed. Flaw had done the impossible. Jethro had cheated death.

We won.

Could Cut tell? Could he feel that his sons weren’t dead?

It didn’t matter.

His arrogance was his undoing.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

His time is running out.



“She wants you, Nila.”

My head snapped up.

My room was no longer empty. It had invited a visitor while I napped on the chaise. The lace I’d been working on littered the carpet and the needle harpooned my denim skirt, sticking upward like a tiny lance.

Flaw headed toward me, hands in his pockets. “Did you hear me?”

I blinked.

By day, I left the dresser pushed away from the doorway in case legitimate requests meant I had to open it quickly. But by night, I shoved the heavy armoire across, allowing a false sense of safety.

How long have I been asleep?

Sunshine sparkled on the horizon, turning my side lamp mute with fresh daylight.

Oh, my God, I slept all night?

I didn’t feel rested. I felt tired and foggy.

Jethro…

He’d been in my thoughts all day. All night. All my life.

He’s awake!

I missed him so much—missed his golden eyes, his hesitant smile. I missed the epiphany when he finally broke and let me put him back together again.

I miss you…

“Nila…you awake or sleep walking?” Flaw clicked his fingers in front of my face.

I flinched. “I’m awake. Sorry, just a bit fuzzy.”

“When was the last time you slept properly?”

I shrugged, plucking the needle from my skirt and stabbing it into the pincushion. “Can’t remember.” My eyes burned from tiredness; wooziness existed in my brain.

He scowled. “You do realise they’re safe. You can relax a bit without grief ruining your sleep.”

Standing, my body creaked in protest from sleeping on the chaise. I stumbled forward with vertigo and my cell-phone thudded to the carpet by my feet.

Huh. I don’t remember retrieving it from my bedside.

Flaw stayed silent as I blinked away my illness and collected it from the floor. I must’ve grabbed it while dreaming, hoping for a text.

Did he message?

I swiped it on.

Nothing.

No messages. No calls. No emails.

I’ve been completely forgotten.

Some part of me hoped that now Jethro was awake, he’d text me. That for the first time in months, we’d talk like we had before this mess started. Kite to Threads. Inbox to inbox.

“Has he been in touch?” Flaw glanced at my phone.

My lungs deflated; I shook my head. “No.” Brushing stray hair from my eyes, I said, “I heard that he’s awake, though. You?”

A slight smile tilted his lips. “Yes. She told me.”

I smiled back. I’d entered Hawksridge believing everyone was my enemy. Turned out, only a few people were worthy of that title. Most of them were kind and honourable, wrapped up in their own issues, but ultimately generous and just like any stranger—frightening and mysterious until the boundary of no acquaintance distorted into friendship.

Kes had proven that. Then Jasmine. And now Flaw.

I knew all along I could win Jethro.

In a way, I think I’d known he was mine ever since I was young.

Once this was all over, I wanted to find out how many times we’d met. How many instances we’d spoken in our childhood—being groomed for our roles.

“Anyway.” Flaw swayed on his heels. “I’m not here for a social call. Been instructed to bring you to her majesty.”

My eyes widened. “What?”

“Not the Queen of England.” He smirked. “The Queen of Hawksridge.” Jamming his hands deeper into his pockets, his eyes darkened. “She wants a word.”

“A word or a beating?” I clutched my phone. “A conversation with the old bat, alone, isn’t high on my list of priorities.”

If you’re alone, though, you could kill her.

The thought welded me to the carpet.

“I wouldn’t recommend calling her ‘old bat’ in person, if I were you.”

My mind ran away, forgetting Flaw existed. The only way I could kill those who needed to die was to be strategic. I couldn’t do it around others. I couldn’t do it in plain sight. I had to be sneaky and wily and smart.

Every night, I stared into the darkness, using the black emptiness as a chalkboard for my plotting. I wished I had a treadmill in my room. Running always helped me problem solve. But even though my body remained stationary, it didn’t mean my mind did.

I’d never been so enamoured with death before or so hyped on hypothetical murder.

I knew from television to expect copious amounts of blood and a struggle if I stabbed my victims to death. I also knew that strength would mean nothing against Cut and Daniel, so I had to have the element of surprise.