Second Debt (Indebted #3)(7)

But it was no use. My mind delivered the crushing knowledge with fanfare and barely hidden relief.

She’s the same as you. You could tell her.

No f*cking way would I ever tell her.

I didn’t want to feel anything for her, but I did care. Enough to stop her from seeing what existed ahead. I might not want her in my brain, but I didn’t want her in pieces, either.

I slammed to a halt. “Nila. Stop.”

Locking her knees, she bounced in place and turned to face me. Her chest rose quickly, panting for breath. “What? Why?”

My eyes involuntarily went to the break in the trees up ahead. Damn sunshine broke through the fog at the exact same moment, spotlighting the one place I didn’t want her to see.

Nila followed my gaze. Her shoulders hunched, feeding off my nerves. “What’s up there, Jethro?”

“Nothing.”

“If it’s nothing, then why are you determined not to let me see?”

My temper fed off her nervousness, creating a sick sensation in my gut. “Because it’s time to get back. You’ve wasted enough of the day doing something as pointless as running.” I snapped my fingers. “Let’s go. Now.”

Her eyes filled with rebellion. She looked back to the hill, chewing her lip.

I moved forward, ready to pounce and drag her back to the Hall. “Ms. Weaver—” I inched closer.

Hesitation flittered over her face.

I tried to grab her. But I was too late.

Darting away from me, she said, “I want to see what you’re hiding,” then bolted down the path.

“Fuck!”

Her hair flew free from her hair-tie as she sprinted faster up the gravel and onto the moor that I wished didn’t exist.

Shit, she’s fast.

I tore after her, wishing I had Bolly and the foxhounds to swoop in and cut her off before she reached the crest.

My feet burned and my socks became slippery as old wounds opened. My lungs were pathetic in delivering enough oxygen as I sprinted the final distance and skidded to a halt.

She’d turned from super-sonic to a statue, staring dumbfounded at what existed before her.

Goddammit, why did she have to be so determined to uncover what I wanted to keep hidden? The truth never helped—it only made things worse.

Her hands flew into her black hair, fisting tightly. “Oh, my God…”

I sucked air, hating the sensation of trespassing on such a sacred site. I wasn’t welcome here. None of my family was welcome, and if I were superstitious, I would admit there was a stagnant force that howled with hatred and pain.

“No!” she whispered. Her strong legs that’d sent her flying into hell suddenly collapsed from beneath her.

Her fingers dove into the dirt, clutching at grass and mud. “This can’t be real. It can’t.”

She bowed with disbelief, kneeling on the grave of her mother.

Her anguish joined the storm of revulsion that never seemed to leave this place. Goosebumps darted down my arms as a gale whipped her hair into a frenzied mess.

“Ms. Weaver—” I moved forward, fully intending to pluck her from the earth and hurl her over my shoulder. I couldn’t be here another f*cking second.

Goddammit, this isn’t supposed to happen.

Her eyes met mine, but they didn’t swim with tears—black hate glittered instead. “Is this true? All along, my father said she’d run off. All along, he told us stories of her leaving us for a better life. My brother understood that meant she was dead, but not once did Tex take us to her grave. After what your father said…about what he’d done, I still held onto those childish stories that she was alive. But this…” Her voice sliced through me. “Is. This. True? All this time my mother has been buried, cold and lonely, in the ground of the men who murdered her?!”

I swallowed, rapidly diving into the safety net of my snow. I couldn’t stand there and hear her horror. I couldn’t let her grief infect me. I refused to f*cking listen.

“I didn’t do it.”

As if that makes it any easier to bear.

Nila shook her head, staring at me as if I were some grotesque abomination. “You didn’t do it? Do you think I care if it wasn’t your hands who severed her life? It was your family, Jethro. Your bloodline. You’re a monster—just like them!”

The cuts on my feet no longer protected me. I was so f*cking close to losing control.

I itched with the need to shut down. To hide from everything snowballing inside. “Let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Nila spun to face the burial place of her mother.

My eyes rose to read the inscription on the simple marble headstone looming over her trembling form.

In here lies payment for debts now paid.

Rest fitfully Emma Weaver wherein hell you may face another toll.

Nila looked over her shoulder; her eyes widened until they were as black and as soul-sucking as an eclipse. “Jethro—”

The pain and hatred in her voice sliced me better than any cut on my foot. I took a step backward, placing distance between us. “I can’t give you what you want.”

She shook her head. “You can’t or you won’t?”

I knew she wanted answers. An explanation. Facts on why her family was buried on Hawk land and how we circumnavigated the law to do things no one else could.