Final Debt Page 25

  That bitch completely clouded Peter’s mind. As my eldest son, he had a duty to perform. His father hadn’t followed the rules of the Debt Inheritance, but my son sure would. However, he left it too late. He didn’t collect Emma Weaver and pretended it didn’t exist—burying himself in storybook romance and stupidity.

  Bryan tried to make him see sense, but Peter and Rose fought a good battle. They were so wrapped up in their own plans; they forgot we were family and family sticks together through everything.

  It was Bryan who came up with the idea.

  He was such a good son, so attentive and switched on. He made a promise that if I put him in charge of Hawksridge, he would grow the empire to ever-new heights. He would always look after me and would grace me with many grandchildren to rule.

  However, he had one condition.

  He wanted to claim the Debt Inheritance. He’d spied on Emma Weaver. He’d coveted what should’ve been Peter’s and a dislike for his older brother festered deep within his heart.

  I pondered my decision, not because I doubted his capabilities, but because it would do him good to stare defeat in the face before granting his dreams. Unfortunately, while he waited for my deliberation, his jealousy of Peter overflowed one drunken night.

  Peter was at a business meeting in London, delayed overnight. Rose had agreed to wait for him at the estate in his quarters instead of returning to her place in Buckinghamshire. I hated having that hussy under my roof—unmarried, no less. But Bryan did something unforgivable.

  He raped Rose.

  He took what should’ve been Peter’s.

  But what he took, he gave back. He impregnated her with my first grandbaby.

  I cursed him for that. I was disappointed in him. Disgusted in his weakness for flesh.

  But after he’d taken what he wanted, he regretted the choice immeasurably. He came to me with the weeping woman and together we put her back together again. I held a meeting that very evening and said Rose could remain in my household, but she would have to marry Bryan. If she didn’t, Peter would pay the price.

  She refused but wisely reconsidered when I threatened Peter’s life.

  The next few months were fraught with drama I didn’t care for. I realised too late that my eldest would never accept his love was betrothed to his brother. Peter reminded me too much of his father, and I’d had enough of his indecision and weakness to have the strength to deal with it again. So I told Bryan he could have everything he ever wanted. A family. Children. An empire. And the Debt Inheritance.

  All he had to do was put an end to his brother.

  And he did.

  He strangled Peter while I was at a council meeting. I pretended to grieve and act disgruntled with his actions. I made it known that the incident was on his head alone. But in secrecy, I was awed he’d had the gumption to do it.

  Peter's death was reported as a horse riding accident. Rose was married to Bryan. And life moved on. Jethro was born followed by Jasmine and Angus. Bryan became known as Cut as he stepped into the role I always knew he was capable of and took the Hawk name to even greater heights.

  He strengthened our relationship with authorities. He befriended new royals and smoothed out age-old alliances. And then one night, he announced Rose would have another child.

  Daniel.

  Cut hadn’t planned on more, but he’d said he’d been to watch Emma and couldn’t wait any longer to claim the Inheritance. He’d used his wife to dispel some of his lust that night—even though they’d barely talked for years.

  After Jasmine’s birth, Rose had moved out of Bryan’s rooms, living a sham of a marriage, only glued to us by her children. My dislike for her grew year by year.

  Unfortunately, Daniel’s birth unravelled the perfect family I’d gathered.

  Rose insisted on a hospital birth—regardless that her other deliveries had been at Hawksridge with a midwife and no complications. Bryan felt guilty for his treatment of her and softened. He gave her her wish.

  Stupid man.

  A few days after the birth, Bryan returned to the hospital to bring his son and wife home. Only, his wife had vanished. She’d abandoned her family—the greatest sin of all. She left behind four children and a husband who would’ve protected her for life.

  Only, she didn’t get far.

  For a few months, she managed to escape our notice, but then Bryan—my ever resourceful, capable son—found her awaiting an international flight. She’d willingly traded her children for freedom—an unpayable crime.

  He brought her back to the Hall. He kept her by his side while the children grew a few more years. But then the incident occurred.

  I didn’t approve of what happened that night, nor will I ever forgive him for the slip of Jethro and Jasmine seeing what he did to their mother. But what was done was done and there was nothing more to be said.

  She was finally gone.

  Good riddance.

  However, her death taught me one final vital lesson: even family could disappoint. In fact, family could do more than disappoint—they could destroy everything with one ungrateful action.

  I wouldn’t put up with any more nonsense. Jethro turned out to have the same condition plagued by previous generations of Hawk bloodline. I ordered Cut to beat it out of him until he learned that as firstborn he had responsibilities, destinies, obligations to fulfil.

  Angus pleased me but only because he had a gift not many others had. He could read people and only show them what would be appropriate to the situation. He was a chameleon within my ranks, but he was family and did what he was told. So he was left to his own devices.

  Jasmine listened and obeyed, but she was rebellious in her heart like her older brother. Yet she was my only girl and despite myself, I doted on her. I wanted a mini-me. It would take time, but eventually, she would see the light and mimic all that I did.

  However, recent events made me see what a foolish wish that was. I didn’t show how much she hurt me when she picked sides against me. She needed to be disciplined. I knew that. But…for some reason, my ruthless laws faded when it came to Jasmine. I couldn’t hurt her—not when she’d already been hurt so much.

  I shouldn’t have been so weak toward her. It would remain my greatest regret.

  And Daniel.

  Well, not having a committed mother screwed him up from the start. He was a needy, attention-seeking, reckless child. Strictness didn’t work with him. Time-out. Smacks. Nothing. At least he idolized his father and ensured he wouldn’t turn out like Peter or Alfred. That was his only saving grace—that and the fact he was blood and obeyed me.

  And now, my beautiful family—the son I’d groomed who’d pleased me so much; the grandson who’d disappointed and destroyed everything—would now have to fend without me.

  My legacy was long. I was proud of what I’d achieved.

  The Hawk name was who I was.

  I was born to become a Hawk even if it was only through marriage.

  I’d strengthened our lineage. I’d played my part precisely.

  And death could never take that away from me.

  “YOU!”

  Cut stumbled to his feet. His fists clenched and every muscle in his body spasmed with hatred.

  I forced myself not to run as he shot across the room, weaving and wobbling. I tensed for the pain of him tackling me, hitting me, delivering his sadness and rage into my flesh.

  Fear of his inevitable revenge and repercussions of my actions wouldn’t let my knees unlock to flee. I wouldn’t look weak by running.

  Not anymore.

  I’d achieved two out of the three lives I promised I’d steal. Those were good odds. I might not achieve every goal before my life was done, but I wouldn’t turn my back on two victories.

  Cut was broken. I did that. I broke him. His reign over the House of Hawks still stood strong and powerful, but I was the mole beneath him. Digging through foundations, chewing on support beams, gnawing at everything he held dear.

 
So no.

  I wouldn’t run because there was nowhere to run to, and I’d earned the right to stare at my defeated before he defeated me.

  Those thoughts sucked to a violent stop as Cut charged toward me.

  Whatever conclusion spilled into my head must’ve filled his. Perhaps in the same order—the knowledge he looked upon a worthy competitor and not just a Weaver—or the newly forming plan to strip me of everything now I’d stripped him.

  Either way, he slammed to a halt, breathing hard—almost as if he didn’t trust himself if he touched me. Giving time to gather his scattered self and focus on so many new developments.

  “You killed her.”

  I balled my hands. “I wanted to, but I didn’t.”

  His breathing billowed like dragon smoke from his nose. “You did. You fucking did!”

  “It was a heart attack. Her own body killed her.”

  “Lies. Just like you lied about Daniel. It was you.”

  My spine straightened even as I winced at what my truth would bring. “I did.”

  His fists shook. “You fucking bitch.” He wanted to strike me—it lived in every cell—but at the same time, there was something else…relief? Traitorous gratitude instead of mournful grief?

  Did he hate his mother as much as the rest of us?

  Pain from my arm gave me false bravado. “Can I help that I learned from you? You killed two of your sons. I only killed one.”

  Cut lowered his chin, glowering beneath his brow. “They were my sons. Mine to do what I like. They were only alive because of me. I created them.”

  “You might’ve created life, but they created themselves into the men they are.”

  He went deadly still. “They?”

  I swallowed.

  Shit.

  “Kestrel is fucking alive, too?” His eyes bugged, ignoring the death of his mother so easily. “You’re telling me I didn’t murder either of my children, yet you killed my youngest, the one I’d promised to make my heir?” His voice gruffed. The air tinged with…regret?

  Relief and regret—two very contradictory emotions I never expected Cut to feel.

  What does that mean?

  Backing away, I held up the scissors. “I said nothing of the sort.”

  Cut prowled toward me, slower this time, as if he couldn’t comprehend such blasphemous facts. “They. You said they. Who’s they?” His gaze flew around the room, to the open door, to his dead mother. “What do you mean by that? Where is he? Where the fuck is Kestrel if he didn’t die with the bullet in his godforsaken heart?”

  Kes was anything but godforsaken. God chosen perhaps. Protected and watched over and given friends who ensured his healing and safety.

  “Answer me!” Cut’s hand shot to his back waistband, pulling free a pistol.

  I froze, staring down the black muzzle, expecting any moment a flash of gunpowder and a cold kiss of lead. Cut bounced between so many emotions, I couldn’t keep track.

  Was it the pistol he’d shot Jethro and Kes with? He didn’t have it with him when we cleared customs at the airport. What outstanding matters had he attended to once we returned to Hawksridge?

  Despite facing a grave, I kept the truth hidden. Jethro was trapped in Africa subjected to survival only if I obeyed Cut and gave up my life. I couldn’t help him. But I could help Kes by staying silent. Kestrel was safe. I wouldn’t tattle on his whereabouts, and I definitely wouldn’t tell Cut that both lives had been saved thanks to Flaw and Jasmine.

  Flaw!

  He’s on my side.

  The tentative friendship we’d sparked when Kes let me into his chambers at the start. The jokes and conversation around late afternoon snacks when Jethro avoided me after the First Debt was paid. Flaw had come through for me, for Kes.

  Could he help me now?

  Where is he?

  My heart thundered with despair. Even if Flaw was close by, it wouldn’t be a simple matter of screeching for help. Hawksridge Hall swallowed men whole, disappearing for days in its cavernous corridors.

  He’d never hear me.

  Cut suddenly stopped, leaving a few metres between us. His eyes narrowed as sorrow, anguish, and loathing crossed his face. The hand holding his gun lowered until the nose threatened the carpet and not my life. “I underestimated you, Nila.”

  My lungs siphoned oxygen faster. My spine wanted to roll, to give in to the sudden ceasefire, but I knew the armistice wouldn’t last long.

  His mother had just died in his arms. His mourning and rage fought to take ownership of what his next move would be. He was as unpredictable as a penny in the air.

  “That’s the first compliment you’ve given me.”

  He looked over his shoulder at the cooling, decaying body of Bonnie. “Emma was right.”

  I flinched. “Don’t talk about my mother. You have no right to mention her name.”

  His eyes landed on mine with ferocity. “I have no right? I have every fucking right. Did you think I didn’t see her playing me? Pretending to love me while all along I knew her love was for her wretched family left behind. Even when she was nice to me, she warned me what would happen if Jethro claimed you.”

  Chills darted over my skin. “What did she say?” As much as I hated discussing my mother with Cut, I wouldn’t stop him sharing more of his weaknesses. Because Emma was definitely his biggest weakness.

  His shoulders sagged as he swiped a hand over his face. For a short second, he looked defeated. As if without Bonnie, the drive to be the worst, the most despicable overlord had vanished. “She said you’d finish us.”

  An icy smile lit my face. “I guess you should’ve listened to her.”

  His lips spread in a snarl. “Want to know what else she was right about?”

  The atmosphere switched. Cut shed his melancholy, gathering the storm of venom he so often carried. “She said you would steal the heart of my oldest and the Debt Inheritance would end with your generation.”

  I gasped. How had she known how the future would unfold? How much time had she spent with Jethro to understand that my soul and his would find peace with one another?

  Cut chuckled. The sound sliced through the envelope of death, fast-forwarding through his grief. “I’d wipe that smug smile off your face, Nila. Because that wasn’t all she told me.”

  Throwing the gun to the floor, his hands fisted as he pushed off the thick carpet to charge toward me.

  I squeaked, stumbling back. My broken arm bounced against my body, dragging a sharp cry of pain.

  My eyes flew to the door; my legs prepared to bolt.

  But I’d made a vow not to run.

  Besides, Cut was too fast.

  His arms wrapped around me, clamping in a hellish hug. “She also told me that while your generation would be the last, you wouldn’t find a happy ever after. You share the same fate as her.”

  I stopped breathing as Cut grabbed my cheeks. “Her fate has always been your fate, Nila. No matter what you did, who you corrupted, or how many conspiracies you planned, your fate was unavoidable.”

  Kissing the tip of my nose, turning something so sweet into something so sinister, he murmured, “You’ve taken from me and I’ve taken from you. Now, it’s time to end this so I can repair the damage you’ve caused.”

  Slipping his fingers from my cheeks to my hand, he snatched away the scissors and carted me from Bonnie’s quarters. He left his mother decomposing; surrounded by bushels of her favourite blooms, already in a tomb with flowers.

  Without my cast or sling, my broken arm twinged with pain. The wooze and wash of imbalance toyed with my vision as Cut carted me down the stairs.

  “I’d planned on giving you a final night of pleasure, Nila. You deserved a shower, a good meal, a good fuck before your final breath. You’ve robbed me, not only of being generous for your good performance smuggling my diamonds but also of my opportunity to claim the Third Debt.”

  The Third Debt.

  I’d been granted my wish, after all.


  Hadn’t I whispered I would rather pay with death than rape if I had a choice?

  I didn’t have a choice, but the preferable ending had been selected.

  My skin broke out with clammy nervousness as Cut stalked me down the main artery of the house, past rooms I’d relaxed in, nooks I’d taken refuge in, libraries I’d napped in. Turning left, we bumped into a Black Diamond brother.

  His leather jacket creaked as he slammed to a halt. “Cut.”

  Cut yanked me closer. “Are the final touches complete?”

  The brother nodded, his shaved head and mix-matched tattoos absorbing the darkness of his attire. “Yes. All ready to go, as per your instructions.”

  Cut sniffed, his fingers tightening around mine. “Good. I have another task for you. My mother is dead. Take her body to the crypt below the Hall. I’ll deal with her remains once my afternoon is finished.”

  The brother nodded obediently, unable to hide his sudden shock and curiosity hearing about Bonnie. “Okay…”

  Cut stomped onward, then stopped. “One other thing. Get Jasmine. I want her there. And the rest of the brotherhood.”

  The man frowned but nodded again. “Right you are.”

  He took off the way we’d come, jogging with purpose.

  I squirmed in Cut’s hold, wishing he hadn’t thrown his gun away upstairs. If the weapon were still lodged in his waistband, I could’ve commandeered it and shot him point blank. There was no need to be secretive any longer. No need to hide my true intentions.

  He’s my last victim.

  “Where are you taking me?” I skip-trotted to keep up, gritting my teeth against my pain.

  Cut smiled, his golden eyes blank and cruel. “The ballroom.”

  Chills darted down my spine.

  Ballroom.

  Instead of conjuring images of finery, sweeping drapes, and sparkling dancers, I pictured a mausoleum, a morgue…the last area I would ever see.

  Jethro had said a debt would be repaid in the ballroom.

  Despite my courage in Bonnie’s quarters, fear engulfed me now.