He shot forward and slapped a hand over my mouth. His palm silenced me, sending my heart chugging with hatred. “Ah, that’s fucking rude. You were meant to ask what three things I want to know, not spout ridiculous bullshit.” His golden eyes—so similar to Jethro’s and Kestrel’s—glittered. “Go on…ask me.”
His fingers pulsed on my cheeks as I shook my head. I couldn’t speak, but it didn’t stop me from screaming with every molecule.
Never!
His temper eddied around us. “Fine. Don’t need you to ask, ‘cause I’ll tell you anyway.” He crowded me, pressing his body against mine. “Three things, bitch. I want to know how your screams will sound in my ears.” His fingers dropped from my mouth, tracing my lips with his salty touch.
“I want to know how your tiny hands will feel fighting me off.” His palm drifted down my throat, over my diamond collar, to my breasts.
I closed my eyes as he kept going, lower and lower and lower.
My teeth clamped on my bottom lip as he cupped my core with rancid fingers. The thin knickers and t-shirt I wore from sharing Jethro’s bed left me vulnerable. “And I want to know how your * will taste on my tongue.” Without any warning, he plucked me from the carpet and threw me against a wall.
My shoulder slammed against a portrait of waxy fruit. I slithered to my knees. Pain flared, fear swelled, and vertigo did its best to steal me away.
He’s dead.
He’s dead.
Don’t you dare give in.
“I’ll show you that I get what I want. I’ll teach you to fucking respect me.” He towered over me, fists clenched. “Isn’t that what you think of me? That I’m some spoiled brat who was the ‘mistake’? That I was never good enough for this family or to have my own Weaver to torment?” His voice deepened with rage. “Saw the tampered video, Nila.”
I struggled to stand, never taking my eyes off his boots.
He stood poised, ready to kick. “Always knew Kes was a pillock, but I never took him for a fucking dreamer. Anyone could tell that wasn’t you with Cut. And it was a fucking mockery to believe I’d buy the badly spliced images of me with some whore. He couldn’t even overlay your face onto her body right. Not to mention the fact I remember the night I disfigured that bitch and Jethro tried to save her.”
His hand lashed out, grabbing my hair. “She could’ve survived if he’d tried. He killed her—said it was what she wanted. That it was the only way she could live with what I’d done. I call fucking bullshit.”
He shook his head, eyes wild. “He’s always been a *, and Kes was always a fucking sap. Jet drugged and lied to us—but fool on him. Cut will make you repay the Third Debt. Kes screwed up with that shoddy film—it could’ve been the best-edited video in all of bloody Hollywood, and I wouldn’t have bought it.” Slowly pulling me to my feet, he hissed, “Know why?”
Kes had been a true friend. Jethro had been a true lover.
They’re dead.
They’re dead.
Two friends gone.
My heart cracked all over again, but instead of sinking into depths of despair, something happened. My temper warmed, growing brighter and stronger, nudging aside grief.
Something was changing…building, evolving.
“Answer me!” Daniel shook me. “Tell me why I would never have bought that fucked-up video.”
Temper turned to rage, which turned to fury, creating a bubbling concoction of revenge.
I stood before him proud and undefeated. “I know why. Because you’re a sick, deranged pervert who remembers things like rape and torture.”
He barked with laughter. “Well, fuck me, you do understand.”
Breath by breath, I sold my soul to the churning anger inside. I gave up my innocence. I traded all resemblance of peace and purity, letting the blackness consume me.
Jethro had confused me—making me believe the debts were liveable. That, in the end, we’d win because we deserved to. His kindness outshone his cruelty, mixing the messages he sent.
But Daniel.
There was no more confusion.
I knew as surely as the sun would rise, Daniel would rape, maim, and kill me. There was no compassion or affection inside him.
That fantasy was done.