Final Debt Page 5

  The simple cart was nothing like the armoured Jeep we’d driven in.

  Once Cut had returned from his errands, he’d bundled me into another car and driven Daniel, Marquise, and me to the mine. I didn’t have a watch and my phone—which I missed like a lost limb—remained in the U.K. But I guessed the trip took about twenty minutes before arriving at the wound of Almasi Kipanga.

  I’d held my breath as a wall the size of China loomed in the distance. Gates soared high; the perimeter fortified with electricity, barbed wire, and countless notices in Swahili and English warning of mutilation and death if they were caught stealing.

  “Get in, Nila.” Cut’s rough hand pushed me into the backseat of the mud-splattered golf cart. Daniel sat beside me, while Marquise, silent as always, took the front beside Cut.

  The deeper into the chasm we drove, the more Cut’s pride shone. He looked upon this place like it existed because of him. Like he was the creator, founder, and architect.

  But it wasn’t him. He couldn’t take credit for something that’d been here since the dinosaurs roamed. Nor take pride in something the earth had created. He’d done nothing. If anything, he’d tainted the preciousness of diamonds and smeared them with the blood of his workers.

  The battery whir of the cart could barely be heard over the squelching of mud as we descended down the serpentine road into purgatory.

  Workers milled everywhere. Some with buckets on a yoke, others driving diggers and dump trucks full of earth. Armed guards stood sentry every few metres, their hands ready to shoot for any infraction. The air reeked of malnourished slavery.

  Daniel caught me staring at one man as he dumped a pick-axe and bucket beside a growing tower of tools. “You’d be surprised where people will stuff a diamond, Weaver. The imagination can make a human body quite the suitcase.”

  I bit my tongue. I wouldn’t speak. Not because Cut told me not to, but because I was done trying to figure him out. Jethro had redeemed himself, Kes never had anything to redeem, but Daniel…he was a lost cause.

  The questions Cut gave me permission to ask had lost their shiny appeal. I didn’t care. I truly didn’t bloody care.

  “Like what you see?” Cut asked as we neared the looming entrance to the belly of hell. Driving into the open-aired entrance was bad enough. The thought of entering the pitch-black crypt sucked all my courage away.

  Apart from the obvious destitution of the workers, Cut’s treasure trove looked like any other mine—no diamonds strewn on the ground or sparkling in large barrels in the African night. If anything, the pit was dusty, dirty…utterly underwhelming.

  I faced him with an incredulous look. “Like what I see? What exactly? Your love of hurting people or the fact that you murder whenever it benefits you?”

  “Careful.” His golden eyes glowed with threats. “Half a kilometre below ground gives many places to dispose of a body and never be found.”

  I looked away, wishing I had use of my hands so I could wring his neck. Perhaps, I’ll dispose of you down there.

  My hoodie didn’t offer much warmth against the cool sky, but knowing my knitting needle rested in easy reach mollified me.

  If I wasn’t tied up, of course.

  My fingers turned numb from the tight rope around my wrists.

  The lack of sleep and overall situation made my nerves disappear. “Threats. Always threats with you. There comes a time, Bryan, that threats no longer scare, they just make you look stupid.”

  Cut sucked in a breath. I didn’t know if it was my use of his given name or my retaliation, but his gaze darkened with lust. “Was I threatening when I killed Jethro or Kestrel? That was decisive action—cutting out the tumour before it infected the host.”

  “No, I call that insanity growing more and more rampant.”

  His throat constricted as he swallowed. He didn’t say a word as he guided the golf cart to a stop beside a sheer rock wall. The air temperature dropped even more as shadows danced around the mouth of the mine. In front of us, a large opening beckoned. There were no welcome mats or happy wreaths on the door, just rough timber frames, well-tracked mud, and the occasional light disappearing into the belly of this monstrous beast.

  Cut launched from his seat and plucked me from mine. “You’ll learn that I don’t believe in threatening, Nila. I believe in action. And tonight, once we return to camp, you’ll find that you’ll crave action, too.”

  The way he stressed the word ‘crave’ made my heart rate spike. What did he mean by that?

  “No time to waste.” Stepping back, Cut stole my roped hands, guiding me toward the crudely made entrance. Daniel followed, content to listen and watch rather than interrupt.

  The second we traded starlight for thick, thick dirt above us, my urge to run accelerated. The timber framework gave way to jutting wooden poles, holding up a tin structure, keeping droplets at bay from the dripping earthen roof.

  Exposed light bulbs dangled from the ceiling, casting us in stencils and shadows as we followed the corridor down, down, down then branched off to a large cave-like space.

  I blinked, drinking in the array of clothes pegs and large bins labelled with what their contents entailed: dungarees, boots, hammers, chisels, and axes.

  I shivered as the cold dampness ate through my clothing.

  Daniel moved forward and grabbed a waterproof jacket. His cheeks dimpled cruelly as he sneered, “If only you’d been nice. I might’ve given you a jacket. It gets cold down here.” Grabbing a torch from another barrel, he shrugged. “Oh well, guess you’ll freeze and I’ll have to work extra hard to warm you back up when we return.”

  Cut let me go, grabbing his own jacket and slinging it over his shoulders. He merely smiled and didn’t override his youngest’s decision not to give me extra warmth.

  So be it.

  I gritted my jaw, locking my muscles to hide my shivering.

  Daniel patted my arse as he stalked past. “Let’s go to the tally room then we’ll go below.”

  Below?

  Further…down into the ground?

  I…I…

  I swallowed, forcing away my panic as I focused on the other word I dreaded.

  Tally.

  Tally room?

  Like the marks on my fingertips?

  I looked down at my twined wrists. Smudges and grime covered my index but beneath it, Jethro's marks still rested.

  My heart twinged, remembering Jethro bent over and carefully inscribing my skin with his initials. The ink wouldn’t last forever; it’d already faded from washing my hands, but I loved having his mark there—in a way, it made him immortal. Even when I thought he was dead, his signature remained on my skin.

  He’ll come for me.

  I knew that. But I also knew he wouldn’t be in time.

  I sucked in a heavy breath. If I never saw him again, at least we had the night in the stables. At least I got to see him one last time.

  “Good plan.” Cut took my hand, dragging me deeper into the mine. More carts and trolleys, even an old Jeep littered the underground pathway. I hadn’t expected such a huge size. The mine had the air of an unseen city, complete with transportation, inhabitants, and daily commuters heading to their offices.

  The lights did their best to push back the gloom, but between the strung bulbs, a cloying blackness permeated my skin and clothes. The stench of damp earth couldn’t be dispelled, nor could the underlying fear that any moment the world could collapse and I’d be buried forever.

  Goosebumps scattered over my arms as we entered another small cave where numerous tables had been set with scales, plastic containers, and ziplock bags. This room was brightly lit, pretending it had its own sun and not banished to the underworld.

  “This is where every worker must drop his haul at the end of the shift.” Cut waved at the room. “The diamonds are washed, weighed, measured, and lasered with the fair trading IPL code before being sorted into equal distribution for shipment.”

  My eyes widened at the willin
gly given information. I knew Cut had no intention of letting me spill what I’d learned to others, but I couldn’t get used to how open he was.

  I supposed from here on out, every secret I’d be privy to, every hidden action shown.

  I frowned, remembering what he’d made me promise at the dice game at Hawksridge. He’d demanded I save him a debt in return for whatever he would share.

  What did he expect me to do? And what made him so sure I’d obey, now Vaughn wasn’t here to torture?

  Shoving those thoughts away, I focused on the already processed ziplock bags. If he wanted to share in-depth details of his family’s enterprise, who was I to stop him?

  Knowledge was power.

  In a few questions, I’d learned more about Daniel than I had in six months.

  I could do the same with Cut.

  My voice boomeranged around the cave. “How do you get the stones out of the country?”

  Daniel stroked a bag gently. “Oh, we have multiple ways.”

  Cut prowled to a table and plucked a dull stone from a pile of dirt. “We use private planes and bribe air traffic control. We use shipping containers and smuggle contraband in the captain’s quarters. Other times we use trucks and pay off officials at the borders. Sometimes, we bribe a trusted few in the Red Cross who disguise the stones in medical supplies. There is no end to transport if you start looking at avenues available. Each tactic helps us export blood diamonds to borders where ludicrous taxes and regulations don’t exist.”

  My lips curled at the mention of Red Cross. How could he use something that was supposed to benefit those in need by turning them into mules for something that hurt to procure? “That’s immoral.”

  Cut laughed. “You think that’s bad? Silly girl, you should hear what my ancestors used to do.” Coming closer, he traced my arm with his dusty fingertips. “Before your time is up in Africa, you’ll learn of one such method.” His eyes glowed with demons. “And then you can decide which is immoral.”

  I shivered, wrenching away from his touch. “You can keep your methods. I don’t want to know.”

  Daniel gathered me close from behind, pressing his hips into my arse. “You’ll get your history lesson, same as always, Weaver. Once you’ve repaid the Third Debt tonight, you’ll be told what’s in store for you tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow.

  Tomorrow.

  Jethro…

  How far away are you?

  A question flew into my head. I wanted to ignore it. It probably wasn’t wise to ask. But I was past censoring. “Why drag this out? Why not get it over with?”

  Cut grinned. “Eager for a raping, my dear?”

  I balled my hands. “Stop with the torment. I get it. You’re rich. You have power. I’ve lived with you for months. I know that already.”

  Cut’s fingers tucked short hair behind my ear, fingering the strands he’d allowed Daniel to hack. “It’s a method of torture, Nila. Just like the history lessons inform you of your demise, the delay adds weight to what will happen.” Dropping his fingers from my hair, he clutched my hipbones, dragging me from Daniel’s clutches into his own.

  Like father, like son.

  I hated that both their erections pressed against me in a matter of seconds.

  My heart lurched with sickness. I’d slept with Jethro willingly. I’d made Kestrel come as a thank-you gift for being so decent, and if I didn’t find a way to stop my future, I would become intimately acquainted with Daniel and Cut, too.

  Four men.

  Four Hawks.

  One Weaver.

  My stomach recoiled, threatening to evict the nothingness inside me.

  “Let me go—”

  “No.” Cut grabbed my nape.

  Before I could squirm away, his mouth landed on mine.

  Stop!

  He’d kissed me before. Licked me. Touched me. But this was the first time he let down his guard and fully gave me a part of himself. His tongue fluttered over my tightly pressed lips. His goatee bristled my tender chin. His rough skin hinted at his age. And his impatience at getting me to respond unravelled his decorum.

  His nostrils blew scalding air on my cheeks as he forced me to kiss him back.

  I stood there unmoving. I didn’t open. I didn’t budge. He might be able to drag out my persecution, but he didn’t have the power to make me fear it.

  His kiss suddenly switched from savage to sweet, peppering soft kisses on my lips.

  For one tiny second, he wasn’t a monster. He projected a fantasy that he truly cared for me. That somewhere, deep inside his rotting chest, beat a heart that wasn’t pure evil.

  But that was a lie. A terrible, terrible lie.

  The worst one yet.

  Yanking my mouth away from his, I spat at his feet. “Don’t ever do that again.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, I’ll do more than that, Nila.” Slinking his arm around my waist, he smiled. “You taste just like your mother.”

  “You’re a pig.”

  “That’s your misconception. I’ll have great pleasure showing you otherwise.” His whisper tangled in my hair. “Tonight, you’ll want me just as much as she did. I give you my word on that.”

  “No way in hell will I ever want you, you bastard.”

  Chuckling again, he let me go. “We’ll see.” Snapping his fingers, he stalked to the exit. “Come, I want you to see what your mother saw on the eve of her final task. I want you to know how insignificant a human life, especially a Weaver life, is compared to all that we have.”

  Daniel grabbed my elbow, guiding me from the tally room. “I suggest you enjoy your tour, Nila, because once it’s over, there’s a certain protocol that has to be followed here. Certain superstitions to be entertained, local spirits to appease.”

  I ducked beneath a mildew covered beam. “What do you mean?”

  Cut said, “He means that you’re more than just our bed companion tonight. You’re our sacrifice.”

  I gasped.

  What?

  Tucking my hand into the crook of his arm, Daniel guided me toward the gaping black hole and the unknown world beyond. “Now, let’s go explore, shall we? Time to see below the earth…time to see where diamonds are born.”

  Drumbeats.

  Heartbeats.

  Wingbeats.

  It all melted into one as Cut guided me from the Jeep and back to the camp. My bones ached from the dampness of the mine. My clothes hung with icy humidity. And my mind couldn’t shed the tunnel of blackness where expensive stones were found.

  How long had we been underground? Two hours? Three?

  Either way, I’d seen enough of the birthplace of diamonds and never wanted to return. I couldn’t stop shivering, even as I thawed beneath the open skies. Fresh air fed my lungs, doing its best to eradicate the earthen soup found below the ground.

  Cut had taken great pleasure in showing me catacombs where the first seam was found then scars where workers had pinched diamonds from the soil. He’d taken me in a wire-cage elevator to the furthest point in the mine. He’d shown me underground rivers, white-washed crosses on walls where cave-ins had claimed lives, and even skeletons of rats and vermin that’d stupidly decided to dig beside the workers.

  The entire experience had ensured I loved my vocation even more. Material couldn’t kill me. Velour and calico couldn’t suffocate me.

  I never wanted to go near a mine again.

  However, I couldn’t stop fingering my collar, counting how many stones had been torn from their home. I’d expected the weight of the diamonds to grow heavier the longer I was in Almasi Kipanga. If anything, the necklace grew lighter. Almost as if the diamonds were of mixed decision. Half of them wanting to return to their beds of dust, and others happy to be in sunlight rather than perpetual darkness—regardless of the bloodshed they’d witnessed.

  Cut smiled. “Time for the next part of the tour.”

  The cacophony of drumbeats tore me from my thoughts. Cut shoved me through the camp, barred behind fences, e
nsconced in a human habitat rather than diamond tomb.

  Drumming and singing guided us toward the central fire pit.

  “What the—” My mouth fell open as we rounded the path, entering a different dimension. I felt as if I’d time travelled—shot backward a few decades where African tribes still owned the land, and their life was about music rather than gemstones.

  The pounding of fists on animal-hide drums echoed through my body, drowning out my nerves of what was to come. The air shimmered with guttural tunes and barbaric voices.

  I’d never seen such a cultural fiesta. Never been enticed to travel to somewhere so ruthless and dangerous. But witnessing the liveliness and magic of the group of ebony-skinned dancers made tears spring to my eyes.

  There was so much I hadn’t seen. So much I hadn’t done or experienced or indulged.

  I was too young to die. Too fresh to leave a world that offered so much diversity.

  This.

  I want more of this.

  Living…

  “Your mother liked this, too,” Cut murmured, his face dancing with flame-ghosts from the bonfire. Topless women weaved around the crackling orange, their skirts of threaded flax and feathers creating stencils on the tents and buildings. Men wore loin clothes, pounding an intoxicating beat on animal drums of zebra and impala.

  “This is what you meant when you said superstitions being appeased?”

  Cut nodded. “Every time we return to Almasi Kipanga, our workers welcome us home.”

  “Why? They must hate working for monsters like you. You treat them like the rats living in the mine.”

  Cut grinned, softened by the tribal spectacle. “To them, we are their masters. Their gods. We feed them, clothe them, keep them safe from wildlife and elements. Their families have grown up with my family. As much as you hate me, Nila, without our industry, these people would be homeless.”

  I didn’t believe that. People found a way. They would’ve found a better life rather than slaving for a man who didn’t deserve it.

  Daniel patted his father on the back. “Gonna get something to drink. Make the rest of the night extra special.” Winking at me, he faded into the mingling workers and guards.