Daniel sat beside me, while the person on my other side hissed, “No speaking unless spoken to. Got it?”
My eyes shot to Jasmine. Her hands rested on the table, a cute gold ring circling her middle finger, while her seat perched on a small ramp, bringing the wheels in line with the chairs of the other guests. She looked like a capable heiress, dressed in a black smock with a black ribbon around her throat. She was the epitome of a mourning sister.
I don’t buy it.
I’d misjudged her—thought she was decent and caring. She’d fooled me the most.
Tearing my gaze from her, I glanced at the remaining Hawks. Just like Jasmine, they all wore black. Bonnie looked as if she’d jumped into a jungle of black lace and fastened it with glittering diamond broaches. Cut wore an immaculate suit with black shirt and tie. Even Daniel looked fit for the opera in a glossy onyx ensemble and satin waistcoat.
I’d never seen so much darkness—both on the outside and inside. They’d discarded their leather jackets in favour of mourning attire.
All for what?
To garner sympathy from outsiders? To play the part of grieving family, even though they were the cause of murder?
I hate you.
I hate all of you.
My hands balled on the table. I wanted to say so many things. I wanted to launch onto the table and stab them with my knife. But I heeded Jasmine’s warning and stayed put. There was no other way.
Cut cleared his throat. “Now that we’re all here, you may begin, Marshall.” His gaze pinned the oldest stranger. “I appreciate you coming after work hours, but this matter has to be dealt with quickly.”
Bonnie reclined in her chair, a faint smile on her lips.
Every time I looked at the old bat, I got the feeling she was the meddler in all of this. She was the reason Cut was the way he was. She was the reason why Jasmine was disabled and Jethro and Kes were dead. I guessed she was also the reason why Jethro never mentioned his mother.
I’d been in their lives for months, yet no one had uttered a thing about Mrs. Cut Hawk.
Unless it was a miracle conception and Cut carved his children from his bones like some evil sorcerer, she had to have existed and stuck around long enough to give Cut four babies.
Where is she now?
Images of Jethro and Kes reuniting with their mother in heaven gave me equal measure of despair and comfort.
If she’s even dead.
She could be trapped in the house, on a floor I didn’t know, in a room hidden from view. She might be alive and not know that her husband killed two of her sons.
God, what a tragic—
The stranger coughed, stealing my attention. “Thank you, Bryan.” Meticulously, he aligned a wayward fountain pen beside his tan ledger before looking at his colleagues. “I’ll start, gentlemen.”
His grey eyes locked on me, gluing me into my chair. “You must be Ms. Weaver. We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting up till now.”
My back bristled.
Any man who’d studied the law and permitted the Hawks to continue to get away with what they did wasn’t someone I wanted to speak with.
Daniel nudged me. “Say hello, Nila.”
I clamped my lips together.
“You don’t want to be rude.” He snickered. “These guys have met all the Weavers. Isn’t that right, Marshall?”
My heart stopped.
What does that mean?
Marshall nodded. “That is correct, Mr. Daniel. I, personally, am lucky enough to have met your mother, Ms. Weaver. She was a fine young woman who loved you very much.”
I thought the pain of Jethro’s death had broken me past any other emotional agony.
I was wrong.
The mention of my mother crippled me. A sob wrapped wet tentacles around my lungs.
Don’t cry. Do not cry.
I would never cry again. Not as long as these people lived.
I’ll slaughter you all!