Fourth Debt (Indebted #5)(66)

Dragging his foul tongue along my chin, Daniel cocked his head. “No, the side that pretends she doesn’t care but she does.” His spicy aftershave polluted the air.

It was late and I’d believed I’d avoided yet another night in this nest of vipers. When he’d come to collect me, I’d been plotting how to end it. Sitting on my bed, dressed for sleep, I wasn’t thinking empty thoughts anymore. Hidden in my fabric chest was a large piece of black cotton with chalk scribbles on how to kill each Hawk.

Poison.

Shooting.

Bludgeoning.

I’d explored every avenue, and Jasmine even offered me the use of her personal gun. She’d told me that if Cut died from unnatural causes, the estate and his children’s futures died with him. She told me that his Last Will and Testament pretty much screwed everyone. However, she had faith I could come up with a way to revoke the fine print and somehow save them.

Our relationship had changed into a mutual liaison. She leaned on me. I leaned on her.

“Know why we’ve summoned you here, Nila?” Suits of armour watched me as Cut smiled. “Care to guess what you’ll pay tonight?”

No…

Jethro…

“Before we begin, we’re going to have a little ‘show and tell.’” Daniel left me on the rug, heading toward a small table covered with black cloth. “I’m sure once you’ve seen what’s under here, you’ll thank your f*cking stars that you have the power to stop us from using them.”

My heart charged, pumping blood through my veins.

“What power?”

“Obey and do what we say and they remain purely ornamental.” Removing the cloth, Daniel grabbed something and held it behind his back. “Know what this is, Nila?”

I hated that question.

Every time I’d heard it, it delivered yet more torment.

I wanted to dismantle the sentence, burn the vowels, tear apart the consonants. I never wanted to hear that jumble of words again in my life.

Keeping my head high, I didn’t look at him.

“You’d be best to answer me, Nila.” Daniel came closer, stopping in front of me. His voice hammered nails into my coffin.

I looked into his demonic eyes, nostrils flaring with anger. My hands opened and closed for a weapon. “No, I don’t know what that is and I don’t care. You’re like a bloody child looking for your parent’s approval.”

Bonnie chuckled. “Oh, tonight will teach that tongue of yours a lesson.”

“Take me back to my room. I’m done playing.”

Daniel laughed, catching my wrist and holding me steadfast. “Not so fast, Weaver.” Stroking my nipple through my white nightgown, he murmured, “Did you forget who called it quits the other night? You were tired. I could tell. The Scavenger’s Daughter would’ve driven you mad if I hadn’t stepped in.” He pinched me. “I was the one who unbuckled the iron and let you go.”

He’s right.

His concern for my wellbeing could’ve come across as kind and caring—if he hadn’t also been the one who’d swatted me with willow reed while I was bowed and imprisoned by the awful Scavenger’s Daughter.

He’d been tasked with teaching me manners after I’d refused to eat with them. He’d been told to make me bleed.

Surprisingly, he hadn’t.

He’d been happy just drawing my tears.

However, according to Cut, I was a spoil-sport.

The Daughter had been used to crush its victims. Bowing with my head on my knees, the iron bars had been excruciating, slowly tightening with a winch, folding me into fatal origami.

“What do you want from me? Appreciation? An award for mercy? What?”

Daniel narrowed his gaze, holding out the item. “What I want, Nila, is for you to play along.”

I snorted, unable to hide my disgust. “Play along while you torture me? Sure, why didn’t I think of that?” My eyes fell on the object. For once, I had no clue what it was. I didn’t recall seeing it in the torture book that V owned, and I couldn’t piece it together.

Bracing my spine, I said, “I told you. I have no idea what it is. Hurry up and get it out of my face.”

He ignored my command, smiling like a Cheshire cat. “Good. Gives me the chance to teach you something for a change.”

You’ve taught me a lot, Buzzard.

How to hate.

How to crave death.

How to plot your demise.

Daniel laughed, stroking the roundish brass device with a corkscrew in the middle and petals lodged together with a small circular handle. It was pretty in an old-fashioned, barbaric way.

“This is a Pear of Anguish.” He shoved it beneath my nose. “Ever seen one before?”

“I just told you I didn’t know what it was.”

He beamed. “Allow me to show you how it works.” I recoiled as he held the pear and twisted the small lever at the bottom. Slowly the petals expanded outward, forming a morbid four-leaf flower. “This ingenious device has three uses.”

I swallowed hard as he kept spreading the petals.

“Use number one was for liars and instigators. The pear was forced into their throat and slowly opened until their jaw cracked.”

I shuddered.

“Use number two was for gay men or priests who broke their faith. It was shoved up their arse and cranked wide until their arsehole ripped.” He laughed, flaring out the pear to full expansion. “The third was for women. Adulterers and nuns who’d lied about being virgins for their God or faithful spouses. It was shoved up their twats, and only once they’d been stretched were they deemed repentant enough to deserve the Judas Cradle or Brazen Bull.”