Second Debt (Indebted #3)(46)

Nila had given me hope that soon I could stop hurting myself in such a way, but until I could be sure what she felt for me was irreversible, I had to use something to keep me in check.

Ice wasn’t working—pain would have to do.

Cut’s gaze fell to my scarred feet. “Do you need a session?”

The concern in his eyes was the key ingredient to how he’d been controlling me for so many years. He made me believe that he was there for me. That he wanted to help me. That I was the chosen one and deserved to inherit all that he had to give.

Of course, it was all bullshit.

Neither of us could erase what had happened between us that night. The night where we used Jasmine so terribly in a fixing session that we’d stepped over an uncrossable line. I’d refused. Over and over and over again.

He’d pushed and pushed and pushed.

I’d snapped.

I’d almost killed him.

And he’d said the words that were a noose around my neck and shackles around my feet for the rest of my days.

“Do you think your life is a gift? Do you think I can’t take it away? I’ve been so f*cking close to killing you, boy. A fraction away from ending the embarrassment of knowing what you are. I only hesitate because I believe you can change. You carry my blood. You cannot be such a disgrace. I won’t let you be such a disgrace.”

I was only alive because he hoped he’d finally cure me. Every year that passed, he hovered over the birthday cake made especially for his firstborn and contemplated killing me with cyanide.

Or a hunting accident.

Or a shipment gone wrong.

So many ways to dispatch me. I lived in constant awareness of traps and mercenaries ready to steal my God-given right to breathe.

All because I didn’t conform.

He also told me what would happen if he did kill me. What he would do to not just Jasmine but Kestrel, Daniel, and anyone else I held dear—not that there were many. He couldn’t care less if it meant he would be left with no heir. He believed he was invincible and lacked the fundamental trait of a father: love.

He didn’t love his children. Shit, he didn’t even like us.

Therefore, we were disposable if we displeased him.

That sort of panic…that sort of fear…continued to have a hold on me. No matter my age or strength—I’d lived beneath the shadow of death for so long, I didn’t know any other way.

I was a f*cking idiot.

Placing my feet into a pair of moccasins, I shook my head. “Thank you for your concern. But I’m fine.”

Cut cocked his head. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Gritting my teeth, I stood up and smoothed down my black t-shirt. I wore no colour today—only black. I should’ve known that the colour would bring only darkness.

“I’m still following your orders. I’m still loyal.”

Cut smiled coldly. “For now.” He ran his fingers around his mouth, eyeing me up and down. “However, we shall see if you pass the next test.”

My heart lurched. Tests weren’t new. I’d been made to complete many of them as I grew—to prove that a son like me could become a man like him.

“What did you have in mind?”

Skinning an animal while it’s still alive?

Hurting another one of the club whores?

Cut’s smile sent shivers down my back. “You’ll see.”

I hated when he did this. I never knew if he was walking me out like a horse to be shot or if he genuinely wanted to prove to himself and to me that I was getting better.

For a few years, I’d been good. I’d found how to hide myself in blizzards and snow and be everything he wanted me to be.

That was before he informed me that Nila was my twenty-ninth birthday present. There’d been no cake that year—no threat of cyanide.

Only the detonation of my soul in the form of a woman I couldn’t deny.

Forcing a smile, I asked, “What about some father and son time? Forget the test. Let’s go for a ride. Talk business.”

Over the years, he’d schooled me on the running of the empire. Those sessions were the only time he relaxed and enjoyed interacting with me. Although, he wasn’t ready to give up his power—I could tell. Regardless that our customs stated it would be mine soon, I knew it wouldn’t be a simple matter of handing over the throne.

“No. I have a much better idea.” Cut opened the door wider. “Come on. Let’s go.”

My knees locked. Something inside told me to refuse. This test would be worse than everything I’d been subjected to.

“Perhaps another time. I have to—”

Go find Nila and indulge in what she feels for me.

What would Jasmine say if she knew I’d achieved the impossible? Nila Weaver liked me…possibly even loved me.

My stomach tangled with my heart. I’d managed to stay away for six days, but I’d reached my limit. I needed to feel her fight, her goodness, her wet hot heat. I needed to forget about my f*cked-up existence and live in hers, if only for a moment.

Cut waved his hand. “No. This supersedes whatever you were about to do.” Snapping his fingers—a trait I’d adopted—he growled, “Come along. It won’t take long.”

Hiding my nervousness behind the glacial fa?ade I still managed to invoke around my father, I followed him from my wing.