Third Debt (Indebted #4)(103)

Jethro looked back at his sister, hanging his head in shame.

Kestrel came into the room, his hands tied behind his back, his face a mismatch of purple, black, and blue.

He gave me a sad smile, flicking his attention between Jethro, V, and his father.

“Glad you could join us,” Cut snarled, glaring at his offspring.

Jasmine sat taller in her chair, her pink angora jumper matching the deep rose of the blanket thrown over her legs. “Father, don’t do this. Think about what this will—”

“He knows the consequences, child,” Bonnie interrupted. “And he’s accepted the payment as a necessary sacrifice.” Her matching skirt and blazer were black, as if she were already in mourning. A string of pearls graced her throat, bobbing with every swallow. Her eyes landed on Cut. “It’s your decision, son.”

Cut nodded, getting his temper under control, slipping back into a ruthless, terrifying man with far too much power.

I trembled, trying to work out the dynamics in the room.

What is going on?

No answers came, and in a seamless move, Cut reached behind him and pulled free a pistol.

My heart stopped.

I stood transfixed in the centre, stuck between Jethro and Vaughn. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t decide who was the most at risk of a madman waving a gun.

“Help him up, will you, Daniel?” Cut pointed the muzzle at Jethro.

I blinked back another vertigo spell as I darted forward. “No!”

Cut trained the gun on me. “Do not move, Ms. Weaver.”

Daniel obeyed, grabbing Jethro under his arms, yanking him upright. The moment he was on his feet, Jethro bent forward, looking like he would throw up or pass out. Sweat darkened his hair, his naked thighs bunched with effort to remain standing. He looked so defenceless in a t-shirt and boxer-briefs—clear evidence that we’d broken every rule and slept together.

Cut cocked the weapon, glaring at his son. “I’m going to give you one last choice, Jethro.”

Jethro shook his head, smacking his lips. “No more choices. Just kill me and let the Weavers go.” His eyes flickered to my unconscious brother. “Both of them.”

Daniel snickered—completely in his element. Bonnie just watched while Jasmine and Kes remained mute with nerves.

No one spoke. No one wanted to bring attention to themselves while Cut wielded a gun.

“One more choice,” Cut repeated. “You better choose wisely.” Planting his stance in the thick carpet, he raised the weapon.

Jasmine whimpered as the muzzle pointed at Kes. “Father, please…don’t do this. We love you. We’re your children!”

“Silence,” Bonnie commanded. “You will do as I say, child. No more talking without permission.”

Jasmine seemed to wilt, but her shoulders remained defiant.

Kestrel puffed out his chest, facing death with the decorum of any worthy fighter. “You’ll never live with yourself if you do this,” he muttered. “I’m your son.”

Cut bared his teeth. “You ceased being my son the moment you uploaded the atrocity of a video and thought I was so f*cking stupid to buy it.” His head whipped to Jethro. “Choose, Jet!”

“I don’t know what you want me to do!” Jethro yelled. “You expect me to name a sibling for you to murder? Why would I when it was all my fault? They had nothing to do with this. Nothing!”

Cut stiffened, closing his eye to aim.

I ran forward—to do what? Who knew. But I was too late.

“Wrong choice.” His finger squeezed the trigger.

The gunpowder ignited.

The room ricocheted with noise.

A bullet leapt from the gun, tearing faster than sight to lodge into a Hawk offspring.

“No!” Jethro bellowed, charging forward.

A flare of red appeared on Kestrel’s chest the second before he collapsed to his knees. His face went blank with shock, lips round with disbelief.

“You never had a choice,” Cut murmured, aiming at his daughter.

Jethro moved the second Cut pulled the trigger.

I saw it all.

I felt it all.

One moment, Jethro was alive. His heart beating. His soul linked with mine.

The next, he threw himself in front of his wheelchair-bound sister, accepting the bullet into his own body.

I didn’t react for the longest moment.

I couldn’t believe the story before me.

He couldn’t be dead.

He can’t be dead.

He’s not dead!

I staggered forward, my hands clamping over my mouth.

He cannot be dead!

Jasmine screamed as her brother fell over her, his torso slamming against her atrophied legs, his knees crashing to the carpet.

And then he rolled.

He rolled off his beloved sister, lying face down on the carpet.

“Nooooooooo!” I threw myself beside him, shaking him, begging him. “Jethro. Please, open your eyes!”

Daniel laughed. Bonnie stared. Jasmine screamed.

And through it all, Cut said nothing.

I could barely stay in one piece. My body wanted to dissolve into a billion fractals and float away in despair. I trembled so badly, it took two attempts to roll Jethro onto his back.

His eyes were closed, lips slack, blood blooming from his chest like a morbid rose—petals upon petals spreading with glowing crimson.