Final Debt
Page 81

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.
Debt.
The last debt…
My heels dug into floor runners, creasing ancient rugs. Cut merely dragged harder, never slowing his pace.
Hawksridge seemed to exhale around us, the portraits and tapestries darkening as Cut dragged me down yet more ancient corridors. Moving toward large double doors in the same wing as the dining room, he stopped briefly before another Black Diamond brother opened the impressive entrance.
My eyes drank in the inscriptions and carvings on the doors, of hawks and mottos and the family crest of the man who was about to kill me in cold blood.
I’d walked past the doors countless times and never stopped to jiggle the handle—almost as if it’d kept itself secret until this moment—camouflaging itself to remain unseen until the Final Debt.
Cut clenched his jaw as the large entry groaned open, heavy on their hinges and weary with what they contained.
Once open, Cut threw me inside. Letting go of my hand, he grabbed a fistful of short hair, marching me to the centre of the room.
The chasmal space was exquisite. Crystals and candlesticks and chandeliers. Needlepoint and brocade and craftsmanship. Money echoed in every corner, shoving away dust motes and proving that glittering gold was immune to tarnish and age.