Third Debt (Indebted #4)(41)

No light entered, only shadows. Electric fences, keycards, and passwords fortified the entrance. Located on the coast between sleepy seaside towns where the police force was entirely owned by us, we guarded our domain carefully. Greased pockets and yearly bonuses, we paid the coppers handsomely but we required strict loyalty.

I’d bloodied my hands a few times over the years teaching one or two traitors who didn’t follow the rules a lesson.

Slowing to enter a key code at the front gate, conversation remained scarce as I drove through the compound and parked the Ferrari. The only cars and motorbikes here were those of trusted employees. No sightseers or holidaymakers. No one had any reason to visit, and it wasn’t on any map. The two long fingers of warehouses looked derelict on the outside, but top-of-the-line security equipment, heat sensors, and bulletproof glass guarded their contents.

We protected our investment.

Pity the Weavers didn’t do a good job protecting theirs.

The moment the car was stationary, Kes tapped Nila’s shoulder. “Shall we?”

She unbuckled her belt and scooted out of the bucket seat without a backward glance. Kes climbed out and slammed the door.

I was left all alone.

Thank f*ck for that.

I stretched my arms in front of me, rolling my neck and exhaling the magnitude of emotions I’d absorbed in the journey here. We hadn’t spoken since leaving Hawksridge, but Nila’s thoughts bombarded me mile after f*cking mile.

Nila and Kes drifted away, heading toward the warehouse. With shaking hands, I fumbled for my pills and took another before climbing from the vehicle and locking it.

I had a horrible thought that I’d need a tranquiliser in order to make it through the journey home. It made me contemplate turning to alcohol and nicotine for other escapes—finding respite in chemicals and false highs.

Running my hands over my face, I trailed after my brother and little Weaver. Today was a simple transaction of overseeing a new arrival. Normally, Daniel would take care of it, but there was something else lined up. Something I’d agreed to unbeknownst to Cut and entirely on my own head if it didn’t work out.

My Black Diamond jacket kept the sea breeze away, and the watery sun did its best to warm up the cool day. Stringy grey clouds shadowed the bland concrete beneath my shoes. It didn’t matter that it was gloomy and bland outside—inside Diamond Alley, we didn’t need sunshine.

We made our own.

A few metres away, Kes held out his arm for Nila to take. I waited for her to accept. I waited to see what I would feel. But she shook her head and kept her distance, preferring to glance at the gentle lapping ocean to our right and inhale the seaweed stench of kelp-covered rocks.

We made our way toward the entrance of Diamond Alley. The shadows of the huge buildings swallowed us as we traded open space for cramped alleyway.

My dress shoes clipped regally against the concrete while Kes’s biker boots crunched and stomped. Nila made no noise at all, drifting forward in her flat ballet shoes, so young and innocent.

For a month, I’d lived without her. I’d visited the Weaver quarters often and fingered the half-finished designs she’d been working on.

The place had been empty, howling with injustice. I couldn’t stay in there long, too attuned to her smell and lingering presence. I’d told myself it was to desensitise myself for when she returned, but in reality, I was looking into the future—trying to see how I’d feel when she’d be gone for good.

Her room would be even emptier.

Her soul vanished forever.

Kes stopped halfway down the alley at a door. He knocked three times in a systemic code, and looked above the bombproof veneer to a camera.

A screen lit up with the face of one of our trusted guards. He glanced at us, nodded, then switched the screen to a keypad that scanned fingerprints as well as demanded a nine-digit passkey.

Nila remained silent as Kes entered everything he needed and the large mechanism unlocked, permitting entry.

Together we moved forward, leaving behind cramped laneways for the most dazzling sunlight imaginable.

“Wow,” Nila breathed, squinting against the brilliant light.

It was blazing.

Far, far too bright.

Kes and I came prepared.

He chuckled, placing Ray-bans on his nose. “Rather cool, huh?”

Sliding my sunglasses from my front pocket, I placed the aviators over my eyes. Snapping my fingers, I held out my hand for the guard to give me a spare pair.

Instantly, a girlish retro pair was pressed into my palm, which I passed to Nila. “The lights are necessary.”

Nila took the glasses, fumbling to put them on. “I’ve never been somewhere so bright.”

“You’ll see why it’s like this.”

“I’ll get going,” Kes said. “I’ll come find you when I’m done.” Patting his pocket, he moved away. “Got my phone if you need me. Have fun, Nila.” With a wave, he prowled down the centre corridor of the huge open plan warehouse and disappeared.

Nila looked left and right. We stood in the centre of the four-story building where track lighting and halogen spotlights dangled like false suns. Not only had we traded a dreary autumn outside, but we’d also traded the cold for muggy heat.

Sweat already prickled my lower back beneath my leather jacket. I used to hate wearing this thing. I was a businessman, not a thug in a gang, but Cut wanted me to take over not just our Hawk legacy but the Black Diamonds, too.