Final Debt
Page 88

Finally, a stranger’s voice crescendoed over everything else. “You’ve lost, Hawk. Step away from the rope if you wish to remain alive and not meet your maker.”
That voice…I didn’t recognise it.
Shivers stole my muscles.
Cut could still kill me.
The battle was over, but my life could be, too.
I couldn’t breathe.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Disbelief and uprising perfumed the air. Boots stomped forward, the click of a bullet entering a trigger chamber the only noise in the suddenly silent ballroom.
“Let her go, Cut.”
That voice I did recognise. I would know it anywhere.
Him.
I trembled in love.
I wept in gratitude.
He’d come for me.
He’d saved me.
Jethro.
“Never. Lower your weapon, or I pull. I’ll do it, Jet. You know I will.”
Another voice I adored joined that of my lover. “You do and I’ll shoot you until you’re so full of holes even the worms won’t want you.”
My father.
“And if he shoots you, I’ll shoot you three. You’ll be fucking shredded.”
My twin.
Their voices pulsed with barbarity I’d never heard before.
Three men I never thought would be in the same room together, let alone fighting on the same side. How things had changed since that night in Milan.
I wanted so much to stay alive. To launch into Jethro’s arms and kiss my father and touch my twin. But no one moved as I remained trapped by the guillotine.
Hope warred with defeat.
Cut could still kill me so easily and no one would be able to stop him. If they shot him and he held the rope in his hand, the guillotine would fall. If he decided to commit suicide and die right alongside me, no one could stop him from releasing the blade.
Only the final shred of decency left in Cut could stop him from doing the unthinkable and stripping me of a future I so desperately wanted.
Do something.
I didn’t know what. My mind was blank.
Play him…
Cut had welcomed me into his home, he’d had moments of civility, of normalness—he was human beneath his devilish ways. Perhaps…perhaps there was some way to cajole him into listening.
I whispered through the hood, “I forgive you.”
It sounded condescending and forced.
Try harder.
“I forgive you for everything you’ve done. What you did to Emma, me, your children. I forgive you. Let me live and break the indebted history.”
Jethro sucked in a breath.
No one else spoke.
Everything hinged on the bond between Cut and me.
I huddled beneath the blade…waiting for his decision. Over the past few months, we’d come to understand one another. I knew he loved his children in his twisted way. And he knew I wouldn’t give up without a fight.
There was hatred between us but respect, too.
If only that respect saved my life.
The whole room paused, watching history unfold.
Feet scuffled and weapons spewed rich-smelling smoke from used gunpowder, but no one moved.
My spine tickled with tears, fearing the worst.
I’d offered my forgiveness, going against everything I’d wanted to say. I’d traded my own morals for the right to keep my life. But what if it wasn’t enough? What if my only value to Cut was in pieces?
“Cut…” I breathed. “Don’t let her win.”
The pulley clanked as Cut flinched. I didn’t need to look into his eyes to know I’d hit home. Watching Bonnie die of her body’s own volition had taught me something. She had been the root of all psychotic and immoral behaviour in her family. She was the one who drove her children to the point of lunacy. She was the seed sprouting such demonic petals.
And now, she was dead.
“You don’t need to obey her anymore.” My voice came out half-prayer, half-beg. “Free me. End this.”
Once again, silence settled like a smothering pillow.
No one moved.
Cut’s body heat branded my thigh, standing, just standing. Deliberating.
Then…finally…the clinking of rope and mechanism sounded again, only this time I didn’t fear it. Cut’s leg nudged me as he secured the rope, staying the blade and my death.
I didn’t breathe as he squatted beside me.
I didn’t flinch as his hands landed on my shoulders, undoing the yoke and helping me to my feet.
I didn’t make a noise as his fingers untied the rope around my wrists and his touch grabbed a handful of hair as he tore off the hood in one swipe.
I didn’t do anything to make him regret his courageous decision.
He’d saved me knowing he was doomed himself.
Was that redemption? Was it enough to be free of everything he’d done?
I trembled as the black material freed my vision, blinking as my eyes accommodated to light.
Cut didn’t smile or grimace, he just stared.
I wanted some time to take stock of how close I’d been to dying. To look my potential murderer in the face and thank him for sparing me even while hexing him to hell.
But the moment our gazes met, Jethro stormed up the podium and yanked Cut’s hands behind his back.
Bryan didn’t say a word, submitting to his son.
I remained locked in the moment, reading so much into Cut’s eyes but not understanding any of it. Rubbing my throat and the phantom slice through my neck, I nodded. “Thank you.”
Cut shrugged in answer to all the questions I wanted to ask, before allowing his eldest to jerk him down the steps and throw him into my father’s control.