I didn’t want to be reminded of everything I was walking away from.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t go. You have to trust me and not push. Just accept what I’m telling you and that I need some alone time, okay? You’ll be able to contact me by phone and email.”
“This is bullshit.”
“V, please. Be supportive, like you always are.”
Don’t make this ten times harder to say goodbye.
“Skype? I need to see you, Threads. Something doesn’t feel right. You’re keeping things from me.”
A firm fingertip prodded my shoulder. Jethro whispered, “No Skype.”
I didn’t know how he heard V and didn’t want to ask why Skype wasn’t permitted. Why doesn’t he want my family to see me? Because who knows what you’ll look like when he’s finished.
The fear I’d been able to keep leashed suddenly swamped me. I moved forward, collapsing into an uncomfortable booth.
“Threads. Threads?” Vaughn’s voice echoed down the line. “Goddammit, Nila. What the fuck is going on?”
Sighing, I rested my elbows on the table. The weight of aloneness and depression settled heavily. “I don’t know,” I whispered.
The phone disappeared from my fingertips. “Hello, Mr. Weaver. We met earlier. Jethro Hawk.” Jethro glowered, making me wish the seat would devour me.
A loud stream of curses came through the phone. Jethro pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, see that’s where you’re wrong. If you have an issue with me enjoying your sister for a time, speak to your father. For now, Nila is mine, and I won’t have anyone saying differently.”
He held the mobile away from his ear for a second while Vaughn exploded. A furious shadow darkened his face.
Jethro gripped the phone, growling like a rabid wolf. “That’s none of your concern. I’m taking her. I’ve already taken her. And there’s nothing you can do. Goodbye, Mr. Weaver. Don’t make me regret my kind generosity toward your sister so soon.”
He hung up, tossing me the useless phone. “If you want a piece of advice on how to survive the coming months, don’t talk to your brother again unless you want to pay a serious price. He’s detrimental to your willingness to obey, and a fuckwit.”
Tears welled. I didn’t want to cry. Damned if I’d shed anymore useless liquid over this bastard.
“Don’t call him a—” I stopped mid-sentence. There really wasn’t any point in arguing. He’d win. Just like he’d won up till now without a curse uttered or shout yelled.
I’m meek. He was controlling me with no ropes or chains or curses. I was under his horrible spell, threatened by the illusion of him murdering the people I held most dear.
My eyes flickered toward the exit behind him. Jethro followed my gaze. He side-stepped, waving his arm toward the temptation of running. “You want to leave? Go. If you’re so selfish to let others die for you, I’m not going to stop you. One phone call from me, Ms. Weaver, and it all ends for them.”
I didn’t move, deliberation a heavy cross on my shoulders. How could I sit there and let him take control of my life? But how could I ever live with myself if I ran?
He’d kill my family and there’d be nothing to run toward.
Everything was pointless.
I hunched, deliberately looking away from the exit.
Jethro came closer, crowding me into the booth. “Good choice. Now sit there, don’t move, and I’ll get you something that’ll make this easier.” He turned away, but not before I heard his murmured, “For me at least.”
I waited until he stood at the bar, smiling at the barmaid, before I opened a new message.
My hands shook, jiggling the phone, but I wouldn’t stop. He might not let me talk to people I love, but people I hated didn’t matter. The one person who drove me into this mess might be my only hope at surviving it.
If he forgave me.
Needle&Thread: Kite, I don’t do this lightly, but my life has taken a certain change and…well, I would like to be able to message you if it gets too much. I’m sorry I overstepped. I’m not going to say any more than…please. I need to be able to talk to you if I need to.
I pressed send, hating myself and how weak I sounded. He wouldn’t understand the strength and courage it’d taken to write that or bow into the meeker role. But I needed someone—a friend. And the sad part of my life was—I had none.
Resting my phone on the table, I stared unseeingly out of the window. Tears tried to take me hostage again, but I curled my hands, digging long nails into my palms. The pain gave me a distraction, letting me stay outwardly calm.
Jethro took his time, talking softly to the botoxed waitress. I wished he’d forget all about me so I could sneak out the door and never return.
My phone buzzed.
I’d never hoped for anything more in my life as I read the new message.
Kite007: Understand me too when I say I don’t forgive or forget lightly. But I appreciate your message and can’t deny you’ve got me intrigued. You’ve almost got me wanting to know what changed in your life to send you grovelling back to me. I’m not an idiot to know it must’ve been pretty big after what we said to each other. I’ll let you message me and reply on one condition.
There was nothing else. Glancing over at Jethro, he had his back to me waiting for his order. Still time. Still hope.
I swiftly messaged Kite back.
Needle&Thread: I accept. Whatever your condition.
Please just give me someone to talk to. No matter how cryptic and shallow he was, I needed it. So much.
Kite007: No details. I’ll reply as long as your messages don’t make me care. You’ve got the wrong man if you want sympathy.
I wanted to tell him to piss off. That he wasn’t worth it. But I swallowed my pride just as Jethro placed a single shot of white liquor in front of me. “Whoever you’re messaging, stop.”
Glaring into his light, unfeeling eyes, I flicked a curtain of hair over my shoulder.
In my first, but definitely not my last act of defiance, I typed a single word.