Third Debt (Indebted #4)(52)

Jasmine shook her head. “I’ve never seen him this cold, this remote. He’s exactly like our father, and it terrifies me to think I’ve lost him.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I suppose in a way, I should be grateful. At least he’s still breathing.”

My world stopped. “What do you mean?”

Jasmine scowled. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. You must’ve guessed what would happen when you walked out of Hawksridge and never looked back.”

“He told me not to look back,” I snapped. “He forced me to obey by using my love against me.”

Her face turned frigid with anger. “Yes, but you could’ve found a way to come back sooner. You must’ve believed Bonnie when she said you’d earned your freedom at the cost of another.”

I didn’t want to hear anymore.

Jasmine scoffed. “My father is doing everything in his power to destroy your line because of some stupid ancient vendetta that should’ve been dismissed centuries ago. If he can do that to innocent people, what does that mean for the ones being groomed to take over his throne?” She suddenly leaned forward, snatching my hand off her knee. Her French-manicured nails dug into my skin. “Whatever Jethro has done or whatever Cut threatened him with is the last resort. I thought I would never see my brother again. I thought the moment you walked out of Hawksridge Jethro would disappear, too. But he didn’t. He’s still alive—but God only knows what stipulations Cut placed on him.”

She jerked me closer. “Just stay away from him. Don’t try to find him. Don’t try to love him. Don’t try to do anything to upset whatever balance he’s been able to find. I miss him, but I’d rather have him unattainable and alive than caring and dead.”

She threw my hand away. “Now leave, before I call security.”

I stood, moving quickly to her door. I needed to go before I burst into tears at the sheer hatred she had for me. Every word was delivered with fury and dislike. I was no longer a friend but foe.

How could she switch so easily?

How could she give up on Jethro when I knew he was so close to snapping back?

She’s protecting him. She thinks there’s no hope.

“Oh, and Nila?”

My eyes met Jasmine’s. She said in a monotone, “Don’t ever come back here. Leave my brother alone. Let this madness end. I’m begging you.”

It wasn’t until I’d descended the stairs and entered my own quarters that I unravelled the message in her final words.

Let this madness end.

She’s asking me to let them win.

She’s asking me to die.





SLINGING A TOWEL around my waist, I exited my steamy bathroom and stalked across my bedroom to get the first aid kit.

My knuckles were torn, I could barely see out of my right eye, my lip was split, and countless bruises mottled my torso. But f*ck, I felt better than I had in months.

I shook like a damn junkie needing another fix, but I relished the win and adrenaline of playing God over someone else for a change.

Passing the full-length mirror, I cringed at my reflection. It didn’t look like I’d been the victor, but I was still here and they weren’t.

Suck on that, *s.

Grabbing the first aid kit from the 17th century dresser, I returned to my bed to begin repairs.

I didn’t need stitches or serious medical care, but I did need antibacterial cream and a few butterfly strips to hold the cut on my forehead together while it healed.

Damn f*cking Cannibal cunts—thinking they could kill me when I was alone. Their president would have a nasty surprise tomorrow when the local farmer inspected his potato field and found three new varieties sprouting instead.

I’d left a calling card on each—a single worthless diamond. Courtesy of my family and our power over immortality.

There would be no retaliation. They were on our turf—fair and f*cking simple.

My muscles ached, my head pounded, but my mind was blessedly clear. I could think straight—free from emotions and pressure. I hadn’t run into anyone since my arrival.

A new prescription for pills rested on my bedside table. As much as I loved this clarity, I couldn’t stomach it come morning. I made a note to take one the moment I’d finished patching myself up.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I popped the lid of the first aid kit and selected a tube of antiseptic.

My door flung wide.

Shit, I forgot to lock the damn thing.

I looked up, expecting to see Kes, my father, or even Daniel popping in for a three a.m. chat. Instead…Nila f*cking Weaver stood frozen on the threshold.

I dropped the tube of cream.

She brandished her stolen dirk and a brass candlestick from one of the tables lining the halls. Her hair was untethered—a curtain of midnight—and her black camisole and shorts made my mouth instantly dry up.

Fuck, f*ck, f*ck.

What the hell?

I stood up instantly.

The first aid kit slammed to the floor, spewing its gauze and bandages to all corners of the room.

“What the f*ck are you doing in here?” I stormed forward, ready to slam the door in her face. She couldn’t be here. Not with my appearance or condition.

“Oh, my God. I found you.”

I grabbed the doorknob. “Go back to your room, Ms. Weaver.”