Final Debt (Indebted #6) Read online

  The windshield suddenly shattered. I screamed as a rain of safety glass pebbled in a waterfall.

  My arm wrenched back of its own accord, sheltering my head instinctually. The butt of the gun came too close to my face.

  Then a human replaced the gun. A dark-skinned masculine human. His gaze met mine. “Alive, boss.”

  I squeezed my eyes. Outside, the view mocked me. We’d managed to soar free of the compound before succumbing to bullet fire. We’d been free. We’d made it past the fence.

  But now…I would be dragged back and Jethro…I doubted reincarnation would happen a second time.

  I drifted in and out of consciousness; half pictures and stuttering images showed me a story of African workers, slowly making sense of the wreck. Someone reached inside and undid my seat belt.

  Instantly, gravity yanked me into its embrace and folded me in two on the roof.

  A moan tore past my lips, aching with pain.

  The moment I was undone, someone grabbed my ankles, yanking me through the jagged hole where the windshield used to be and into the bright morning sunshine. Sharp shards of metal cut me as they pulled me free. Sand burned my bleeding skin as they dragged me across the dirt.

  “No!” My fingers latched onto the bullet-riddled car. “Not without him. No!”

  No one listened.

  Instead, arms plucked me effortlessly and carried me away from the Jeep. They put me down, spreading me onto my back. My spine creaked and stretched, my brain rapidly cataloguing pain, agony, and excruciating discomfort.

  My body had been through so much in such a short amount of time.

  I hurt, but it didn’t matter anymore.

  Pain was only temporary as I focused on more important things.

  While part of my brain catalogued my injuries, I looked at the destroyed Jeep. Everything bellowed, but I could move in small increments. I didn’t think anything was broken.

  The man who’d dragged me from Jethro left me alone. However, his sunburned silhouette was replaced with the man I hated the most.

  His shoes crunched as he stood over me like a devilish avenger. “You were leaving before the best part, Ms. Weaver.” Cut spread his legs, placing his hands on his hips. “I can’t permit my guest to leave before the festivities are over.”

  I had no more to give. No more to fight with.

  Ignoring him, I twisted my head to stare at the 4WD. My heart leapt as Jethro was dragged from the wreckage.

  I didn’t look away as the man who’d carried me placed Jethro’s inert form beside mine on the ground. His head lolled to the side. Dirt and grease smeared his handsome face, braiding with the blood on his skin.

  Cut nudged me with his toe. “So…you were telling the truth when you said you ‘love’ not ‘loved’ my son.” Squatting, he poked Jethro in his broken side—the side where he’d shot him.

  My arm flailed with uncoordinated projection. “Don’t—don’t touch him.”

  Cut smiled, placing his hand on his son’s throat. His forehead knitted together, searching for a pulse.

  I bit my lip, begging him to find one while at the same time hoping he wouldn’t, so Jethro would be free of more torture.

  Slowly, Cut’s lips spread into a grin. “Well, well. He’s still alive.”

  Thank God.

  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

  Softer tears fell, enjoying the moment even knowing the future would be anything but happy.

  Cut’s fingers landed on my cheek. I swallowed back rage, pushing unsuccessfully off the ground to get away.

  “I’m so glad to see you’re in one piece.” His fingers latched angrily around my chin. “However, you have a lot of explaining to do before I let you stay that way.”

  “Let’s start with a few easy questions, shall we?” His other hand smeared blood from Jethro's forehead. “How is he here? How is he alive? Where the fuck is Daniel?”

  Gritting my teeth, I used every avenue of energy and shoved Cut’s hand away from my lover.

  You can touch me, you bastard. But not him. Never him.

  “I’ll tell you everything if you let him go.”

  “Let him go?” Cut chuckled. “Why on earth would I do that? It’s not every day a ghost comes back from the grave.”

  I tried to crawl closer to Jethro, to place myself between him and his father. He was alive but unconscious. Cut could kill him so easily, and he would never know until his soul untethered and became homeless over the African plains.

  “Stop it. Leave him alone.”

  Cut dropped his hand, his smile deepening. “You’re telling me what to do now, Weaver?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes glowed. “And what do I get in return?”

  My heart clanged and the pits of Hades opened up beneath me.

  Marry me.

  Yes.

  Husband.

  Wife.

  None of that would come true now.

  But I had the power to keep Jethro alive. I would do whatever it took.

  “Me, you get me. Just…let him go.”

  Cut stood upright. “No. I have a better idea.” Snapping his fingers, he ordered a guard closer. “Bind his hands.”

  The guard nodded. Dropping to his knee, he rolled Jethro roughly onto his stomach, not caring his bloody face squashed into the dirt. Efficiently, the guard wrapped the same coarse rope that’d bound me in the mines around his wrists.

  It physically hurt watching them maul him while he couldn’t defend himself. Then again, it was better this way. This way, he couldn’t antagonise his father or somehow manage to get shot a second time.

  Please, wake up.

  Please, don’t leave me.

  Selfishness rose. It would be better if he left in peace. If he slipped quietly away. But I couldn’t stomach his loss.

  Whatever Cut had planned would make both of us wish we’d died. The belief that we’d get out of this intact and alive was left in the disfigured Jeep, crushing our dreams into African soil.

  Cut wiped his hands on his jeans, glaring at the workmen. “Has anyone seen Daniel?”

  Men scuffed their boots, fiddling with their guns. None of them made eye contact.

  Finally, someone found a backbone. “No, boss. Not since last night at the ceremony.”

  Cut scowled, running a hand across his face. “Well, find him. He can’t have run off too far.” His glare landed on me. “Unless you have something you want to share with me, Nila?”

  I glared right back, silent.

  “Fine.” Pacing, Cut growled, “Search the compound, head to the mine to see if he was stupid enough to go there, and check the plains around the camp. I want him to be a part of the afternoon plans, and he doesn’t get to skive off just because he has a fucking hangover.”

  My lips twitched. I’d won in some small measure against Cut.

  Daniel was suffering the worst hangover of his life.

  In pieces.

  The workers nodded, fanning out in levels of importance to carry out Cut’s orders.

  When only a few men remained, Cut said quietly, “That damn son of mine has to learn a thing or two.” Pointing at the man who’d rescued me, he ordered, “Take them to cave 333.”

  “Yes, boss.” The man ducked to collect me.

  Cut grinned, stepping closer, blotting out the sunshine with this evilness. “I think it’s time you learned a few secrets, Nila, and for my eldest to learn that nothing he does can stop me.”

  I wanted to scream. I wanted to kill. But I bit my tongue and stewed. I’d had my chance to leave. We both did. We’d done what we could, but it wasn’t good enough.

  Now, we would pay yet another price.

  Another debt.

  Another toll.

  My entire body howled as the worker hoisted me to my feet. My imbalance threw me sideways, turning the world into a broken jigsaw. I groaned as I gave up trying to find an anchor and swam in vertigo.

  “Carry her, for fuck’s sake,” Cut snarled.
“She won’t make it otherwise.”

  “Yes, boss.” The worker’s arms scooped me up, holding me firm. I squirmed, looking drunkenly over his shoulder as he carted me away.

  Bye, Jethro…

  I didn’t relax.

  I didn’t cry.

  But I did die inside as another worker hauled Jethro into his arms and together we were thrown into a Jeep and taken to perpetual hell.

  The stickiness of Daniel’s blood stained my hands as his father paced before me. Luckily, it threaded with the blood from my sliced cheek and grated legs from the car accident, hiding my sins.

  We were no longer above ground but below it.

  Cave 333.

  Deeper than the caves Cut showed me. Bigger than the sorting or paraphernalia storage caves by the surface.

  My bruised body craved sunlight. To beg the sunshine to grant me its healing power so I could run.

  But in here…with dampness and rankness and darkness—I was already dead and buried.

  There would be no exhuming into daylight. No one to disembalm us when Cut had finished his morbid chores.

  Cut dragged his hands through his hair, never stopping his pacing. His white shirt stained and jeans dust-smeared. “Answers, Ms. Weaver. I expect them. This very fucking second.”

  I bit my tongue, glancing at the earthen walls, wrapping around us with a cold, moist welcome, swallowing us whole like a greedy giant.

  This wasn’t a cave. It was the giant’s stomach. Its entrails.

  “You have exactly three seconds to tell me what I want to know. Otherwise, I’ll stop treating you as my guest and hurt you as my prisoner instead.”

  I snorted. “The past six months was you treating me as your guest? Last night with the coin toss? This morning with the gunfire? That’s typical behaviour for your guests?” Flames smouldered in my belly, suppressing my injuries and allowing me to focus on staying alive.

  Cut spun to face me, stalking quickly to slam his hands on the armrests of the wooden chair he’d tied me to. “Six months in my house and haven’t I kept you fed and content and given you free rein to explore? Last night, didn’t I give you something to make the Third Debt more bearable? I let you dance, smile. You had fun, Nila. You can’t deny that.” His voice lowered to a hiss. “You had fucking fun and you cannot say otherwise.”

  I trembled. “You want to continue thinking of yourself as a gentleman? A maverick making sacrifices for a good cause? Go ahead. Fulfil that fantasy by letting Jethro and me go. Then I’ll answer any question you want. Give me your word we’re free to go and I’ll tell you everything.”

  Not everything.

  Because the moment he knew about Daniel, there would be no guillotine or Final Debt. He would wring my neck within seconds. He would avenge his youngest because he hadn’t been the one to decree it should be over.

  Pushing off from the armrests, he resumed his pacing. “Let’s begin with the elephant in the room, shall we?” He pointed at Jethro. “How the fuck is he alive and here?”

  My heart cracked, taking in Jethro’s beaten form. He slouched unconscious in an identical chair. However, the ropes holding him in place were triple mine. Twine snakes licked around his thighs and torso, gluing him to the chair. His wrists hung lifeless, trapped behind him while his ankles were locked against the chair legs with yet more rope.

  There would be no escape. Not even if he was a magician with every spell in the world.

  My mind raced with ideas on how to get free, but so far…I had nothing. Blank. Zero. Zilch.

  “I shot him. He died on the rug at my feet. He’s meant to be dead.” Cut’s face turned red.

  I flinched but held his gaze. “Just let us go. No one else has to get hurt.”

  His eyes narrowed. “No one else? You say it like someone just got hurt, Nila. Was it Daniel?” He soared forward, his fingers biting into my cheeks. “Where is he?”

  Survival kicked in. I’d never been a good liar.

  “No idea.” Keeping my chin high, I aimed to be honest but obtuse. Forthcoming but mysterious. “Why would I know where your despicable son is?”

  “It seemed you knew where my oldest was, even while living under my roof.” His face etched with fury. “You ate my food, slept in my rooms, and lied to my fucking face.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Cut laughed coldly. “Don’t be a bitch. You knew. All along, you knew.”

  “I didn’t!” I swallowed back my shout. “I thought he was dead. Same as you.” Granting him a smidgen of truth, I added, “I only found out a few hours before you put me on the plane.”

  Cut glared. “How? How did you find out?”

  What could it hurt? Jethro was here. Whatever plans he had, they wouldn’t come to fruition. “He told me himself. He came to get me.”

  Cut’s mouth fell open, a surprised cough falling free. “You’re telling me he willingly came back to Hawksridge, had you to himself for however long, and then left you again?” His eyes glowed. “Wait, that’s where you were when Daniel found you outside your quarters.”

  I didn’t respond. He already guessed with conviction. “What a fucking idiot.” He shook his head. More shadows darkened his soul.

  Shoving aside the new knowledge, he said, “Speaking of Daniel. Let’s get back to what’s important. Jethro is alive. I’ll need more information on that. But for now, Daniel is more pressing.” His eyebrows knitted together. “You were the last one with him. What did you do?”

  “Me?” I scoffed. “How could I win against Daniel? I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “Did he rape you?”

  Blood flowing over my needle.

  Oxygen leaving a corpse.

  Lions chewing on flesh.

  “Yes.”

  He tried.

  “You’re lying.”

  “No.”

  He paced around me, standing behind my chair so I couldn’t study his face. “I find that very hard to believe.”

  I sat taller in my imprisoning seat. “Why?”

  Cut’s voice licked over my nape, stroking my dust-blanketed hair. “You’re bruised and bleeding, but I don’t know if that’s from the car crash or my son. You’re hurting but not broken. Not exactly encouraging if Daniel had his fill of you.” He sneered, “I think you’re lying because you’re still alive.” His fingertips glided down my throat to my breasts. “You can walk. Talk. Answer back. I know my son, Ms. Weaver, and if he’d taken you the way he planned, you wouldn’t be sitting there with rebellion in your eyes.” His hands fisted my hair, jerking painfully. “You’d be in fucking pieces.”

  Shit.

  Tears pricked as he moved to stand in front of me again. His hands on his hips, he towered like judge, jury, and executioner. “You’re lying to me.”

  “No.” I fought my shivers. “I’m not.”

  Cut bowed, his face to my face. “Tell me the truth. Now.”

  “I am telling you the truth.”

  His eyes blackened. “One last time. One more chance and then you’ll get a painful reward for each lie.”

  My heart flung itself against ribs. “I’m telling you the truth. Daniel took what he wanted.”

  “Implausible.” His hand curled. “There is no proof and my son is suddenly missing.”

  Lie better.

  Fight smarter.

  Taking a deep breath, I snapped, “I didn’t say he took what he originally wanted.”

  Cut froze. “What do you mean?”

  Please, let him believe my lies.

  “After you left, he—he changed his mind.”

  Cut raised his fist. “I don’t believe you—”

  “Wait!” I tucked my chin, tensing against his strike. “The drug-liquor you gave me. He’d had it, too. He said he thought he wanted me to fight and struggle, but then he decided he’d rather I participated.”

  Cut paused, never dropping his fists. “Go on.”

  Words tumbled in a rush, tangling with bullshit and storybooks. “I kissed him
and said I would willingly submit. That I wanted him because of what you’d given me. That I found him so sexy and I wanted him so, so much.”

  Filth.

  Trash.

  Scum.

  “He didn’t need to hurt me. I participated. I happily gave him pleasure because I earned pleasure in return.”

  Soap.

  I desperately wanted soap to wash my mouth.

  Silence fell, cloying and sticking to the cave walls. I hoped my lie wasn’t so farfetched to believe. The past few months at Hawksridge gave no hint to who Daniel truly was. He was awful, but I did understand what it would be like to be rejected from birth, told you were unwanted, stripped from human connection. Love. He’d never had unconditional love.

  Was it too hard to imagine that with his guard down and happiness in his veins, he wouldn’t want togetherness rather than rape? Jethro and Kes were kind-hearted and loving—beneath the bullshit layered on them by Cut. But at least they’d had some semblance of family. Their mother had cared for them. They’d been raised in a marriage not a regime.

  Daniel hadn’t been so lucky. Was that why he’d never evolved past a spoiled brat? Did he lack everything that made him human because he’d never been given tenderness and mothering? Had I gone too far by hinting in my arms he’d found sanity for a change?

  “I gave him more than he asked for. I gave him affection.” My eyes narrowed with anger. “I gave him what you were never able to give.”

  Cut froze. His entire body locked down as if I’d stripped back his shell and revealed a grotesque truth inside him.

  Oh, my God.

  Was that Cut’s issue, too?

  Lacking love from his own mother?

  Bonnie…how much had she warped her son?

  His lips pulled back, revealing glistening teeth. “Where is he then? If you gave him a night of fucking wonder, why wasn’t he in your bed? Why were you fleeing with Jet? Why does every word spewing from your motherfucking mouth reek of horseshit?”

  I stiffened, curling into myself for protection. “I’ve always said I would run if I got the chance. Jethro gave me that chance. As for Daniel, he left after he finished. I assumed he went to fetch you.”

  My mind grabbed a new idea.

  “Perhaps, he found another woman to spend the remainder of the night with. Perhaps, he got too drunk and is sleeping it off in the shade.” I kept my voice level, even though it begged to wobble with uncertainty and plead Cut not to hurt me. “I don’t know where your son is. And no matter how many times you ask me, my answer won’t change.”