Third Debt (Indebted #4)(58)

I learned that every few months, one Hawk brother would travel to Brazil or Africa or Thailand to inspect the mines and assess the managers left in charge. They would go with an entourage from their brotherhood, acting as support, discipline, and protection.

I was wrong when I thought the only brothers in the Black Diamonds were the ones who’d licked me at my welcome luncheon. There were factions all around the world—all controlling the empire that belonged to Bryan ‘Cut’ Hawk.

And soon Jethro.

After our night together, things had become strange between us. He avoided me as much as possible. He didn’t come to my quarters. He didn’t seek me out for my morning run. And when we met in the dining room with his family for breakfast, he would find subjects to discuss with his father and be detained far longer than I could wait.

His eyes, once glowing with lust and togetherness, became dead, lifeless. Every few hours, he would swallow a white pill and give me a smile that said a hundred things all at once.

Trust me.

Wait for me.

Don’t hate me.

The Black Diamond brothers continued to be kind and generous. If I came upon them in the library, we’d chat like old friends. If I bumped into one of them in the corridors, we’d discuss the weather and any titbit of interesting information.

I never went to visit Jasmine again, and my brother and father never ceased in their rally to get me to reply. I’d never been around so many people—all impacting my life in some small measure.

Whenever I moved around Hawksridge, I took my dirk—jammed in my waistband or hidden in the garter around my leg. I’d seen Daniel once on my own—it’d been around nine p.m. He’d caught me strolling back to my quarters after visiting the kitchen for some orange juice.

I knew then why Jethro was so livid that I’d hunted the house for his wing. The look in Daniel’s eyes reeked of rape and lawlessness. His hissed promise when the first tally was made came back in full volume. “The moment you’re alone…”

He’d come toward me, a sneer on his lips. I didn’t think, just reacted. I’d thrown my glass at his face, splashing citrus juice all over irreplaceable carpets and tore back to the kitchen.

And there I’d stayed until Flaw returned from a late night delivery and escorted me back to my chambers.

I didn’t tell Jethro what’d happened, but he must’ve seen it on the cameras, because the next day he found me and whispered that from now on his rooms would be locked. That there was no point in going to him because he wouldn’t let me in.

I knew he did it for my protection—to stop me recklessly patrolling the halls—but at the same time, it killed me to think the one chance we could be together had been taken away just like the rest.

The dynamics in Hawksridge Hall had changed. Cut had thawed considerably toward Jethro. I caught them laughing together one afternoon and Cut slapping Jethro on the back the next. The stronger the father and son bond grew, the more Kestrel faded into the background.

Daniel didn’t seem to notice or care about the alliance that’d sprung between firstborn and ruler. He carried on as if life was fine and dandy with no cares apart from which club bunny to screw that night.

Kes, on the other hand, stopped being his jovial self. He stopped smiling at me. Stopped smiling period.

And despite not knowing who he truly was, I missed him.

I missed the ease and togetherness I enjoyed when I’d first arrived. I missed having him as a friend—even if that friendship came with conditions and hidden motives.

One day, as I made my way outside for a run, I saw Kes disappear over the front garden dressed in a tweed jacket and woollen trousers with a shotgun cocked over his arm.

Where is he going?

Jogging down the portico steps, I zipped up my fleece and was glad I’d put on leggings as the wind howled in welcome.

Autumn was losing every day to winter. Summer was long since forgotten, and I craved the sunshine and greenery of the first few months that I’d arrived.

Kes looked up as I traversed the gravel.

His eyebrows rose. “Nila. What are you doing out here?” He peered at the sky. “It might rain…or snow, feels f*cking cold enough.” His skin was white, but the tip of his nose was painted red. He’d had a haircut recently and it was trimmed and neat at the side with an unruly mess on top. He looked younger, sadder.

“I’m going for a run. Want to join me?”

I forced away the memory of running with Jethro and ultimately finding my ancestor’s graves. Jethro had wounded me too many times over the past few weeks. I wanted to hate him but couldn’t.

The way he’d begged me to trust him the last time we were together. The way he looked so close to crumbling under the weight he carried.

He had a plan. I had no choice but to trust him.

It took a strong conviction to trust someone who rarely talked to me and went out of his way to come across as a drug-induced robot.

I blew on my frostbitten fingers. My chill was partly due to the freezing cold day, but it was mainly thanks to living in a historic tomb. Hawksridge Hall was decadent and majestic, but it was damn cold when moving around cavernous corridors. Only the rooms were heated, and even then, the ceilings were so high it was never toasty.

“No, I don’t run.” Kes jostled the gun over his arm. “Thought I’d go for a hunt. Shoot a pheasant or two for dinner.”