Second Debt
Page 18

No one was laying a hand on her. I didn’t care if I had to draw Hawk blood to make that a reality. She would stay mine until the end.
With a smirk, Daniel leaned over and opened the lid of the Tally Box. “Ready, brother?”
I looked at Cut, but he just crossed his arms, watching to see how I would proceed. Bastard.
I swallowed. I would forever wear these marks. When Nila paid the Final Debt and was dead, I would remain alone and without her. Cursed by her presence every time I looked at the tally.
My father wore his from what he did to Nila’s mother on his ribcage. I’d seen it over the years—the marks of coming of age—of being a full-blown Hawk worthy of inheriting the legacy.
“Tell him where you want it to go, Nila.” Cut looked at my charge.
She trembled with tension. “Want what?”
Daniel shifted closer, his eyes slithering all over her. My skin crawled at the thought of him touching her. Hurting her.
Fucking arsehole.
Closing the distance between Nila and me, I pressed my thigh against hers—hoping she’d understand that we were in this together. Just like I’d told her. Her life was my responsibility and I wouldn’t fail.
“I’ll pick,” I said.
“You aren’t allowed, Jet,” Cut muttered. “It’s Ms. Weaver’s decision.”
Cut moved around the back of the couch, and ran his hands through Nila’s hair. She bit her lip as he kept her still, hemming her inside the barricade of his fingers. “Time to choose, my dear. Where do you want to wear the mark?”
“The mark?”
“The mark of the debts.”
WHAT THE HELL is happening?
Ever since I’d crawled out of bed after seeing my ancestors’ graves, I’d been different. Remote, cold. To be honest, I didn’t recognise myself.
I’d tried to work, to drown my thoughts with patterns and sewing, but I couldn’t stop thinking of the past. How did the other Weaver women cope? How did they justify their captivity and pay the debts in full?
In one month, I’d made more progress with Jethro than I’d hoped, yet now, I wanted nothing to do with him. I’d lied when I told him I’d only slept with him to prove he had a soul. I’d lied to myself, hoping I would believe it. But nothing could sway the truth or hide the tingling connection that stitched us together—for better or for worse.
As much as I needed him on my side, I couldn’t come to terms with what his family had done.
His text kept repeating inside my head; the words making no sense but somehow holding a promise of understanding if I only gave it time to unriddle.
Somehow, I had to do the impossible by pretending to care all while hating his guts. It was easier said than done when face-to-face with the evidence of his family’s crimes.
Seeing the tombstones of my ancestors hurt me deep, terrified me of my future, but worse than that—it showed me just who I’d become.
I was a deserter. A betrayer to the Weaver name.
How could I wield my heart in a battle that I wouldn’t win? And how could I ignore the fact that by letting Jethro into my bed, I’d let him turn me into a Hawk?
Cut tugged hard on my hair, snapping my attention back to my current predicament. His alcohol-laced breath sent fumes into my lungs as my scalp burned from his hold. “The marks of the debts must be done. Chose a place. Quickly, my dear.”
I squirmed on the black couch. Cut wrapped his fingers deeper into my hair, flaring worse pain. “I don’t understand what you want.”
I had no idea what they were talking about or what they expected. Being surrounded by four men—all of whom I despised—would’ve given me a heart attack when I first arrived. Now, I only drew deeper into myself.
Even vertigo had lost its power over me. I’d stumbled a little as Jethro had dragged me up the stairs, but he hadn’t noticed. If Vaughn ever saw me again, he wouldn’t recognise me.
Daniel tapped the box, its contents shielded by a lid engraved with birds of prey and the Hawk family crest. “Don’t have all day, Weaver. Pick.”
I tried to shake my head, but Cut’s fingers clutched my skull, keeping me prisoner.
“Pick what? I have no idea what you’re saying.”
Jethro tensed, his body tight and unyielding. “You paid the First Debt. A mark has to be made to acknowledge that fact.” His golden eyes landed on mine and for the first time since I’d asked him to kiss me, I didn’t give into a flutter or tingle. I’d slipped too many times this morning. When he’d kissed me before, he’d poured so much passion down my throat I couldn’t help but respond.
It made me hate myself.
I couldn’t deny that I appreciated him beside me. He was my only salvation against his father and younger brother. But I refused to let him manipulate me.
He’s Kite.
Liar.
Con artist.
Deceiver.
He swallowed hard, feeding off my refusal to give in to him. His emotions were locked away, sparkling with snowflakes rather than desire. But it didn’t stop the lashing of awareness binding us together.
“Choose, Ms. Weaver. Then we can leave,” Jethro said.
“I—”
Cut let me go, moving to perch on the couch arm. He loomed above. “You have to select a place to wear the marks. In this decision, you have full control. Each debt that you repay is recorded. On video, in the ledger, and…on skin.”
My heart plummeted into my feet. “What?”