With lethargic steps, Jethro took his place in centre stage. He looked paler than a vampire and just as ridden by death. Daniel’s body heat repulsed me; I rode the ragged gallop of my heart, trying to calm down enough to persevere.
Jethro’s measured, chilly voice filled the smoky room. “Many years ago, your ancestors loved to gamble. As happenstance would have it, most of the time the gamble paid off. Weaver possessed luck and used that luck in business, pleasure, and monetary gain.” His voice thickened but never faltered. “On occasion, the head of the Weaver household would visit the local pub to play two-up, rummy, and poker.”
My eyes drifted to the finished game of littered chips and empty glasses, seeing the scene and understanding whatever happened to me would be a direct correlation to that night.
“However one not-so-good year, the Weavers’ luck ran out. Not only was his wife accused of witchcraft and the Hawk daughter sacrificed for her sins, but his skill at cheating cards was no longer a talent but a flaw.
“The news got out that he was a conniving thief, and the local gentry invited Weaver to a game at the local establishment to trip him up. Weaver went—as he always did. And cheated—as he always did.
“When the game was over, however, Weaver hadn’t won. The cards had been switched, and Weaver folded with no money to pay back his losses. His playing companions demanded he pay his debts right there and then.
“Of course, he had no funds. He had a profitable business and textile enterprise. He owned silk shipments and exotic inks worth thousands of pounds, but his pockets were lined with lint and buttons, not paper and coins.”
Jethro took a breath, his back straightening the longer he talked. I didn’t know if it was anger at what my ancestors had done giving him power or that he somehow had a plan.
“They gave him an ultimatum. Pay the debt or lose his hand like so many other thieves. The police weren’t there. It was late. Alcohol had been consumed, and men were at their worst. Lust. Greed. Hunger. They wanted blood and wouldn’t settle for less.
“Weaver knew he couldn’t pay. He stood to lose an appendage if he didn’t provide something worthwhile to make up for his lies. That was when his eyes fell on the servant boy he’d brought with him to help tend to his needs during the game. The underling to the butler, the ragamuffin who worked in the cellars. The Hawk son—last offspring of my ancestors.”
If I wasn’t gagged, I would’ve lamented in horror for such a plight.
Poor boy. Poor, hungry existence. Whoever he’d been, he’d suffered an awful upbringing watching his father punished, mother raped, and sister drowned. He’d lived through enough strife to last a hundred lifetimes only to end up sisterless—hopeless—all alone and dealing with a mob of intoxicated men.
Jethro growled, “He was only thirteen. And small for his age.”
His harsh voice dragged my eyes to his. His fists clenched; anger shadowed his face. “A deal was struck. Weaver offered an alternative: a debt paid in human flesh rather than money. When the men argued they had their own servants and didn’t need a sickly, scrawny boy, Weaver sweetened the deal.” Coming closer to me, Jethro murmured, “Want to know what the agreement was?”
I shook my head, sucking on the gag as my mouth poured with horror.
Jethro whispered, “Weaver offered up his servant—not for cleaning or fetching or menial tasks—but for one night. Twelve whole hours to be used at their discretion.”
My knees gave out.
Daniel held me up, wrenching my shoulders with the sash around my wrists. My back burned, but it was nothing to the way my brain fried listening to such grotesque stories.
“The men pondered such an offering and…after much deliberation…agreed.”
My spit turned sour, knotting with a vertigo spell and wobbling the world.
My mind swam with sickening thoughts.
Daniel whispered hotly in my ear, “You can guess what that meant, can’t you?” He pulled me back, rubbing his erection against my spine. “I’ve been waiting for this night ever since you arrived.”
Tears leaked from my eyes.
I moaned around the gag, begging Jethro to snap out of whatever stupor he existed in and slaughter his family.
Save me. End this.
The second he saw my wordless message, he turned away. His voice fell further and further into a mournful monologue. “A night of buggery for a few hundred pounds of debts. Weaver got off scot-free. He returned to his home safe and sound in his horse and buggy, leaving behind his faithful servant.”
Silence hovered, pouring salt on flayed wounds.
Cut said, “The payment began at one a.m., and by one p.m., the boy was returned.” He laughed blackly. “Alive. But unable to walk for a week.”
My heart shattered. That poor, wretched boy. The humiliation, the pain, the degradation. The soul-destroying catastrophe that wasn’t his to bear.
Jethro came forward.
I flinched as he cupped my cheeks with cold hands. His chest rose and fell, but no air seemed to fill his lungs. He looked furious, disgusted, entirely not coping. How could he stand there and say this? How could he contemplate making me pay?
Tears cascaded silently from my eyes, drenching the gag.
“In this debt, you shall be used. You shall be shared. And payment will be taken from your body any way we see fit. There are no rules on where you can be touched and no boundaries that won’t be crossed.”
He swallowed hard, pressing his nose fleetingly against mine. “As firstborn, I will be the last to partake in this debt. This is my sacrifice for my sins, too. You belong to me, and I must sacrifice you in order to earn my place.”
Daniel hissed in my ear, “Time for some fun, little Weaver.”
My entire body prickled with heaving fury. I didn’t have time for fear anymore—not when the very thought of what would happen threatened to switch me from sane to insane.
Jethro’s nostrils flared, torment and misery quarrelling over his face. “Do you repent? Do you take ownership of your family’s sins and agree to pay the debt?”
I could barely stand up. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even think properly.
“Don’t make him repeat the question, Weaver,” Daniel muttered.
Jethro crossed his arms, looking as if he’d throw up any moment. “Say it, Nila.” His voice was so quiet but throbbed with such sorrow.
How was I supposed to speak when I was gagged?
Cut smiled. “The sooner you agree, the sooner it’s all over.” Standing, he came toward me. I’d never been so uncomfortable, sandwiched between Daniel and Cut, knowing that this time they were allowed to touch me. That Jethro couldn’t stop them from sharing because he was debt-bound to hand me over on a silver platter.
Cut stroked my cheek, his fingertips branding my skin. “Three places to violate you, my dear. And three men. We’ll draw straws to see who will claim your pussy, mouth, and arse.”
Vertigo plunged me into a rollercoaster roll, sending me stumbling into Cut.
He chuckled, holding me against his chest. “I never knew you were so eager.”
The moment I could see without the whitewash of nausea, I growled and fought to get free.
Cut let me go, smiling as I backed away only to end up in Daniel’s arms.
This can’t be happening!
A sob escaped through my gag. My heart was supersonic—a dying piece of muscle about to combust at any moment.
“Fuck, Nila. Agree to the damn debt!” Jethro suddenly exploded.
The room froze. More tears torrented. More pain imaginable cleaved me in two.
I narrowed my eyes, funnelling my disgust fully into his gaze. You want me raped by your fucking family? Fine.
Raising my chin, I hoped he saw just how badly he’d screwed up. I was prepared to forgive him everything. His ice. His lies. His closed off arctic behaviour.
Everything.
But not this.
Nothing could absolve this.
Ever.
You understand, Jethro Hawk? The love in my heart for you. It dies. Right now.
It’s over!
Jethro flinched, bumping into Kestrel.
Kes clutched his brother’s hand, squeezing it hard. Jethro wiped a hand over his mouth as if he could prevent any more monstrous things from escaping.
Kes’s voice was strained and sharp. “Do you consent, Nila Weaver? Answer the question.”
I never looked away from Jethro. I was the queen on this carpet chessboard. I was the most powerful player in the entire long-winded game, yet my king had just ended the game with one colossal mistake.
Tearing myself from Daniel’s arms, I moved forward to stand in the centre of Hawks. With my shoulders proud and body vibrating, I nodded.
One single nod.
Yes.
Yes, I’ll pay your sick and twisted debt, but I will never be the same. I will never be so soft and stupid. I will never let love convince me of goodness in others. I will be hatred personified, and I will fucking slaughter every single one of you when you’re done.
“That’s it, then.” Jethro swayed to the poker table. He moved like a soldier who’d been shot in battle—a warrior about to die. Snatching the lid off the cognac bottle, he angled the liquor and drank. His powerful throat contracted, guzzling fast, before he tore it away, slammed it down, and stormed to the exit.