Final Debt Page 8

  Before I could respond, he hooked his fingers tighter in my collar. The thick filigree and impenetrable diamonds were the perfect lasso to jerk me up and flip me over.

  No!

  My jeans were no longer in reaching distance.

  The moment I was on my knees, Daniel spread my legs and grabbed my hips. “Shit, yes.”

  I screamed as he dug fingernails into my skin so hard he drew blood.

  I gave up trying to reach for help. I gave up trying to remain human. The drugs buzzed in my blood, twisting me with horror and desire. But the desire was no longer for sex or pleasure. Oh, no. This desire was for murder. To rip out his entrails and stuff them in his bleeding mouth. To slice off his cock and present it to Cut as my trophy. This desire was my ignition.

  This desire was my annihilation.

  Clearheadedness settled into every cell, even as Daniel yanked me back and fisted his cock to thrust inside. Purity and precision slowed my breathing. Certainty and courage stopped my shaking hands. And proficient power guided my fingers to the hem of my hoodie.

  I forgot.

  But now I remember.

  The knitting needle.

  The one implement I’d stroked and caressed since leaving Hawksridge. I didn’t need a scalpel. I had something better.

  A thirty-five centimetre, single-pointed metal spear.

  Closing my eyes, I conjured everything I loved, everyone, every reason why I would survive and Daniel wouldn’t.

  Jethro.

  Vaughn.

  My father.

  I would survive for them.

  No matter what it takes.

  I gave myself over to bloodlust.

  I did the one thing I was born to do.

  I carried out my promise to my ancestors.

  My fingernails were blades as I sliced through the loose stitching and pulled free my weapon of choice. My life might be over. I might be alone. But I wouldn’t die without taking a Hawk with me.

  Daniel grunted, lining himself up to rape me.

  My skin went cold. My heart went calm. And I fisted my knitting needle.

  “You ready for this, Weaver? Ready to be fucked?”

  I didn’t reply as his knees touched the back of mine.

  I didn’t move as his thighs pressed against mine.

  I didn’t flinch as the tip of his cock entered me.

  I waited.

  I hunted.

  I swallowed my tears and fears.

  Another inch inside me.

  His awareness faded, focusing entirely on sex.

  Weaker…weaker…

  And still I waited.

  Another centimetre of my enemy’s cock inside me.

  I paused for the perfect moment.

  Now.

  I attacked.

  Rage stole everything.

  I wasn’t afraid of repercussions or consequences.

  I wasn’t afraid of getting hurt or dying.

  All I cared about was ending this monstrosity before he took my soul.

  “Fuck you!” Throwing myself to the side, his cock slipped out and Daniel’s hold fumbled. The ground kissed my shoulder, rattling my teeth as I flipped onto my back beneath him.

  For a moment, I drank in the final image I would have of Daniel. He stood poised on his knees, his cock swollen and hungry, his face rageful and surprised. A simple man turned into a despicable creature. He was no longer human. Just the mistake. The unwanted.

  I did the world a favour.

  I did the only thing I could do.

  “Goodbye, Daniel.”

  Sitting upright, I hugged his shoulders, lining my trajectory for perfect aim. I wrapped my fingers around the needle; I pressed my face into his throat. Energy exploded. Righteousness detonated. I bared my teeth and bit his neck as my arm soared up, faster and faster, guided by the divine, flying with ghosts of my family, winging with the precision of fate, and pierced my mortal enemy.

  The sharpness of the knitting needle slipped as easily and as cleanly as a knife slipped through expensive steak. Up and up, puncturing through his ribcage, slicing through his lung, and finally, finally, finally perforating his heart.

  Time stopped.

  The world ceased to spin.

  Daniel turned from rutting animal to shocked puppet.

  His eyes popped wide as the softest cry tumbled from his lips. His gaze met mine. His hand flew to where the knitting needle lanced his side. He was no longer my adversary but merely thread, welcoming my needle, ready to be transformed into a seamstress’s masterpiece.

  And then, he toppled.

  Falling, falling, falling to his side.

  Vertigo teased as death swooped across Almasi Kipanga and whipped into the tent. My wrist twisted as I fell with him, never letting go of the needle. I rolled, straddling him, forcing the weapon further into his heart. I almost lost my grip as he bucked and lurched, but I didn’t let go. Using two hands, I pushed down. Harder. Harder.

  Die, Daniel. Die.

  I’d researched how to take a life while existing at Hawksridge. I’d read articles, watched examples, planned the perfect murder. To puncture a heart didn’t guarantee death. A ‘stiletto’ type perforation could be survived.

  I had no intention of letting Daniel survive.

  Locking my knees either side of his chest, I ripped the needle free.

  An agonising groan came from his chest as blood oozed from the hole.

  Daniel’s stupor fell away. His hands reached for my throat, his fingers shaking and weak as his blood pressure dropped from the orifice gushing in his chest. His brain starved for oxygen the longer his heart bled. He only had seconds before the machine of his body shut down.

  His arms flailed. His palm struck my cheek, desperate to hurt.

  Tears spurted and pain smarted, but I didn’t move. I wouldn’t have the power to fight him if his body hadn’t turned traitor, poisoning him from the inside out. But right now, I had all the power in the world.

  “You fucking cu—” He coughed, his fingers slipping in their attempt to curl around my neck, grasping my collar instead. The impenetrable diamonds kept me safe from being throttled as I arched my arm and prepared to complete my final strike.

  “Die.” The needle glistened with dripping crimson as it hurtled through the air and kissed his skin again. The wickedly sharp point crunched its way through flesh and fat, returning to lodge in his most important organ.

  Daniel howled, his torso thrashing, face straining. He hit me, struck me, tried to knock me over. But I had an anchor—the needle. I held on, pushing down with all my might driving the end home.

  “You can’t stop me.”

  He bellowed as the needle tip slid deeper, deeper, past gristle and bone, impaling my victim inch by inch. He twitched and bucked, his fingers unable to snare as his nervous system shut down.

  The wet squelch of my needle ripping another hole in his heart brought rushing nausea, but I didn’t falter. All masterful killers knew to make the result permanent, dedication and desire had to be invoked.

  I was dedicated.

  I desired freedom.

  I would finish this.

  Holding the base of the needle, I twisted it like a corkscrew.

  “Ah!” Daniel jerked. His arms fell to his side, scrabbling at the needle, but it was too late. Adrenaline would keep him animated for another few seconds, but it was already done.

  I took his life, not with horror or regret, but with no mercy and complete acceptance.

  A life for a life.

  He owed me that.

  Watching him succumb iced my blood, turning me into a ruthless executioner. His golden eyes met mine, gasping for hope and help. His motions turned languid and dull, a broken pawn, never to live again.

  “How does it feel, Daniel? To know you’ve lost?” I gasped, but my nerves remained calm. “How does it feel to know a Weaver took your soul?”

  He never had the chance to answer. His face froze of vitality. His breath wheezed, his
heart stopped, and in those final seconds before his soul leapt free, he snarled with sinister hate.

  Then…emptiness.

  There were no longer two people in my tent, only one. Just me.

  Just me.

  I killed him.

  As if the universe rejoiced in one less monster breathing its air, a lion bayed on the dawn’s horizon. Daniel’s blood slowly seeped in an odd little trickle around my needle. Weeping wetly and warmly, staining his chest like spilled wine.

  He twitched.

  I rejoiced.

  I’d killed my first Hawk.

  Daniel…

  …

  was dead.

  THE LUMINESCENT glow of imminent dawn welcomed me to Almasi Kipanga.

  I knew the compound well and ordered the driver to wait a kilometre from the perimeter. He obeyed because he trusted my family’s name. And I trusted him because I hadn’t paid him yet. I had no intention until I found Nila and had her safe in my arms.

  He was my ticket to freedom, and I would reward him handsomely for it.

  Jogging through the long grass of the plain surrounding the encampment, I hoped the dried blood from my side wouldn’t attract unwelcome predators. I’d stepped into a world where teeth and fang were much more dangerous than bullet and gun.

  The camp sat like a giant growth in the centre of nothing. Armed guards patrolled the fence line but I knew another way in that would go unnoticed. I’d used it when I was young, when hanging out with too many people overwhelmed me. Kes had found it—the unfortified entrance—kindly giving me an escape route to find silence and sanctuary.

  Keeping low, I avoided the main entry and dashed to the service area and staff quarters. Keeping my footsteps light and breathing shallow, I pulled on the loose wooden panel and slipped into the latrines. Either the guards had never found the perimeter’s weakness or they had no intention of doing repairs while breathing in the stench of excrement.

  Animals avoided the scent of human waste, and men who wanted to rob us didn’t think to follow the malodour for a way in.

  Smoke from a dying bonfire crackled in the centre of the camp. Fast asleep tribesmen and their families slept in lean-tos while some preferred to dream in the elements beneath the stars. My lips curled, remembering the ceremony that’d almost incapacitated me emotionally.

  I’d been fifteen.

  I’d been an unwilling participant.

  But that hadn’t stopped them from forcing me to ingest the drug-liquor, consuming me in their drumbeats and chanting.

  It’d fucked me up worse than normal. I’d never felt so unhinged and aroused, turned on by the tiniest touch, overwhelmed by the simplest emotion. The entire camp had become an orgy, and I’d run far and fast.

  I’d barricaded myself for twenty-four hours, remaining alone and far away from rutting sex-crazed humans. But it hadn’t stopped me from pleasuring myself or spilling orgasm after orgasm on the dusty African plains.

  Holding my breath, I wrapped my arm around my painful side. Every heartbeat activated the wound, highlighting my lack of rest and fever. I wouldn’t have the strength to fight many men if they woke up.

  Tiptoeing through the scattered sleeping forms, I calculated where Nila would be. The faster I could get in and out, the higher our chance of survival.

  But at least we would be together again—regardless of what happened.

  One particular woman moaned and rolled over in her sleep, hugging a black-skinned man beside her. The one blessing of the drug was insane lethargy. After the passion and demands of animalistic behaviours, they’d be out cold until the heat from the African sun forced them to move indoors or incinerate.

  My heart remained in my mouth as I weaved around tents and shipping containers. Cut’s sleeping quarters were across the compound, upwind and in a prime location. Daniel’s rested four tents away which left the guest one beside it.

  My gaze shot to the fabric A-frame in question.

  Lights.

  The only one with lights illuminating the inside like a trapped firefly in a jar.

  It took a few minutes to skirt around the edge, stepping through shadows, avoiding open spaces. I listened for noises. I hoped to God Nila hadn’t been harmed. And I wished for a gun to protect her.

  A noise sounded inside the tent. A gentle thud followed by a female moan.

  Nila!

  I couldn’t wait any longer.

  Surprise would be on my side, but I hoped righteousness and fate would be, too.

  Ducking beneath the entrance canopy, I charged inside.

  My heart stopped.

  My mouth fell open.

  It couldn’t be.

  “Nila…”

  Her head shot up. She looked as wild as the animals of this country. She crouched beside my brother, her hands covered in blood, her hoodie hanging off one shoulder, and her legs bare and exposed. Bruises marred her porcelain skin, scratches and blemishes hinting at a fight I was too late to stop.

  She jerked to the side, wielding a long red weapon. “Don’t—” Her eyes focused, then love poured from her. “Jethro? It can’t…it can’t be true.”

  I staggered toward her, glancing between my half-naked woman and my dead brother. His cock was still hard on his belly. My skin crawled even as my heart stopped beating. “How…how did this happen?”

  Her skin was white as milk, her frame shaking with adrenaline. My eyes drifted to her naked pussy and rage unfurled inside me.

  “Did he rape you?” My hands curled as I stood over my brother’s corpse. “Did that motherfucker touch you?”

  She shook her head, throwing down her weapon and wiping bloody hands on her hoodie. Her eyes flashed, hiding the truth she didn’t want me to see. “No.” Standing, she huddled into me.

  My arms automatically wrapped around her, protecting her, even though I begged her to be honest with me.

  He’d touched her.

  That motherfucking animal touched what wasn’t his.

  My embrace became shackles as I dropped my head in despair. Inhaling the softness of her scent and sharpness of spilled blood, I trembled with rage.

  Nila let me hold her, her arms returning the furious hug.

  I’m sorry.

  So fucking sorry.

  Her emotions collided with pride and purgatory. She’d killed him and hadn’t processed what his death would mean.

  I hugged her harder.

  I’m here.

  Her voice whispered into my shirt. “He didn’t rape me, Jethro. I swear. I’m sorry…sorry…so sorry.”

  Liar.

  I understood why she’d lied. Even now, even with death on her hands and fear in her heart, she still tried to save me.

  I was the one who’d let her down.

  I was the one who made her return to the Hall.

  This was my fault. “I did this.”

  Her quaking arms wrapped tighter, hurting my unhealed side. “No. Don’t blame—”

  “If I don’t blame myself, who can I?” I pressed my face into her throat, the short ends of her hair tickling my cheeks. “I sent you back. I fucking sent you back to be raped and—”

  She struggled in my arms. “He didn’t—”

  I pulled back, anger cresting. “Don’t lie to me! You can’t lie to me, remember?”

  Her lips pursed; she battled between looking at the floor for privacy and fighting me like she’d fought my brother. “Don’t. Don’t get mad. I’m only trying to save—”

  I bared my teeth. “Save me? That’s my fucking job, Nila. Not yours. Don’t you get it? I should’ve been the one to protect you. Not the other way around.”

  She didn’t reply, her eyes burning black holes into my soul. There was no judgement in her gaze, only forgiveness for making her leave when she’d begged me to reconsider.

  “Fuck.” My back rolled, and I grabbed her close again. “I’m sorry. Shit, I’m so sorry.”

  Her arms twined around me, her love giving me somewhere to hide from my own
fucked-up emotions. “I know. It’s okay.”

  It wasn’t okay. None of this was okay. But I wouldn’t press it further. Not here. Not now.

  Whatever had happened before my arrival spilled out of her, lapping around our feet.

  Her fingers dug into my spine, reliving what she’d done. “I wanted to kill him. But now…now, maybe…I didn’t. God, I killed him, Kite. I—I took a life.” She hugged me impossibly harder as she lost herself to tangled thoughts. An odd overtone layered her emotions the longer I held her. The sensation of need and desire so strong it superseded her misery at killing.

  I winced at her strength but didn’t care about the pain. All I cared about was her. About taking her far away from here and protecting her like I should’ve done from the start.

  I crushed her in my embrace, holding her so fucking close. “It’s over now. Whatever happened, it’s over.” I kissed the top of her head, her brow, her eyes. “Are you okay? Don’t lie to me. I need to know you aren’t hurting.” My eyes trailed over her injuries. Daniel had done more than touch her, he’d hit her, possibly kicked her.

  Her hair stuck up in places, and her cheek flamed red from a slap. She’d been to hell and back, but she’d left my brother in damnation.

  I’m so fucking proud of her.

  She nodded, breathless and broken. Tears washed down her face. I’d never seen her so primitive, focused only on survival and death. “I’m okay. I’m okay. I am. Truly. I’ll be okay.” The same shadow of lust tainted her voice. I could understand sudden joy at winning over an enemy, but lust?

  Taking a few steps back, I pulled her away from Daniel. He lay on his back, blood clotting on his side, a blue tinge already creeping over his lips.

  I didn’t want her to look. I’d been around death before. I’d been the instigator of taking another’s life. It wasn’t easy to stare into the eyes of your victim once it was over. Especially when self defence forced your actions.

  “Don’t look. Forget what happened. I’m here now, and I’m never leaving again.” I kissed her hair, so, so thankful I had her back in my arms.

  Nila squirmed, disobeying me and looking at Daniel’s corpse. Her muscles locked; a haunting hollowness entered her eyes. “He deserved it. So why do I feel like such a monster?”

  I clamped my hands on her shoulders. “He did deserve it. Don’t second-guess. You did what you had to do.”