Fourth Debt (Indebted #5)(50)

I couldn’t reply.

Taking my wrist, she guided me toward the last seven images all framed in one intricate gilded frame. “Study this well, child. This is what happened to Elisa once Owen was dealt with for his infractions. And this is what will happen to you.”

I clapped a hand over my mouth.

Owen was dealt with? He was killed, too?

My eyes burned as the sepia photos engraved themselves on my brain.

Torture after torture.

Misery after misery.

Methods I never knew existed.

Barbarous items I couldn’t even name.

Elisa faded in each image from a fierce, heartbroken woman into a ghost already departing the world.

She suffered horrendously, subjected to methods of persecution no one could endure for long.

My soul wept for her. My temper broiled for her.

Poor woman. Poor girl.

Was this my fate? Would I become her?

Will I break eventually?

Bonnie stabbed the bottom picture where the only visible part of Elisa was her head. A large barrel with spikes driven through the sides encased her body. “Each of those is…what shall we call it…an extra toll you must pay. Disobedience is never tolerated—from a Weaver or a Hawk. Elisa watched Owen die and tried to return the favour by killing his father.” She tapped my nose. “Just like I suspect you think you’ll do, too.”

I choked.

No…how could they…

“Are you planning on killing my remaining family, Nila?” Bonnie’s voice dropped to a hiss. “Because let me tell you, you’ll never achieve that. Not over my dead body.”

My pulse exploded into supersonic beats, gushing blood, preparing to bolt.

Run!

I needed to be far away. Far, far away where they could never touch me again.

Slapping my cheek, her strike brought heat and clarity. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, child.” Standing to her full height, she glared into my eyes. “I have news for you. Whatever plans you think you have, whatever backbone you think you’ve grown, and whatever revenge you think you’ll deliver—forget all of it. You’re done, you hear me? Jethro is dead. Kestrel is dead. There is no one here who will save you—including yourself. Starting tomorrow, you will pay for your sins. You will repent so your soul is pure enough to pay the Final Debt. You will lose, Ms. Weaver. Just like Elisa lost all those years ago.

“You’re already a corpse, and there is nothing, absolutely nothing, you can do about it.”





FOUR DAYS.

A full ninety-six hours since I’d awoken from surgery.

An eternity of staring at the powder blue ceiling with a cheerful puppy poster going out of my f*cking mind with worry for Nila.

What were they doing to her?

How was she coping?

Jasmine had said she’d do everything in her power to keep her safe, but as much as I trusted and loved my sister, I knew what my brother and father were capable of.

She’s not safe there.

I have to get her out.

I also knew what Bonnie was capable of and that scared me to f*cking death.

Sighing heavily in the stagnant room, I gritted my teeth and pushed upright. I was sick of lying horizontally. I was pissed at being told what I could and couldn’t do. And I’d had enough of trading one imprisonment for another.

Louille had threatened me on a daily basis with restraining me. Especially, when he’d found me on the floor the day after my surgery, bleeding from launching myself out of bed, believing I was cured enough to fight.

I was stupid to try—but I had to. I had no choice.

I couldn’t just lie there. That wasn’t an option. Nila needed me. And I wouldn’t let her down again.

It’s time to do things my f*cking way. Otherwise, it will be too late.

The first three days, Louille had been a damn Nazi on my attempts to walk. I got that he was responsible for my welfare. That he’d done his job and patched me up to ensure I lived another day. But what he didn’t get was I didn’t want to live another f*cking day if Nila wasn’t there with me.

It’s my responsibility, goddammit.

I wouldn’t fail her. Ever again.

Yesterday, I’d won one battle. I positively despised my demotion to a lump of decomposing meat, lying in bed with drains in my side and a catheter in my f*cking cock.

I’d shown just how healthy I was with a shouting match, ensuring the removal of the catheter and the drains. Time was an enemy but also a friend. Every tick left Nila out of my protection, but every tock healed me so I could finally set right my wrongs.

I just wished I had a magical device that paused time at Hawksridge and sped up my existence so I could be strong once again.

Wait for me, Nila.

Stay alive for me, Nila.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I looked at the sterilized linoleum floor. At least I felt more like a man rather than a healing vegetable. The past few days had been awful, but I was getting better—no matter how weak I was.

I hated being so f*cking feeble. Too feeble to be of any use.

But no matter my frustration, I couldn’t battle through the tiredness or soreness of my body knitting back together. It healed as fast as it could. I just had to learn patience.

I snorted. Yeah, right. Patience when my deranged family has my woman. Like that would ever f*cking happen.