I stood vibrating on the other side, pulling my dirk free from my waistband.
Daniel would need a bomb to move the dresser, but it didn’t mean I was safe. Who knew if he had secret passages into this room? Ancient houses such as Hawksridge had rabbit warrens of unseen pathways and secret compartments.
The door slammed again, banging louder with frustration.
I huddled into a battle stance, preparing to stab Daniel’s hand through the crack. My mouth watered with the urge to hurl profanity and curses. To threaten and thwart.
“Nila, open the damn door.”
I froze.
It wasn’t Daniel.
Time ticked past, stretching uncomfortably.
“Nila…it’s me.”
Me?
The voice was feminine. Sweet and soft but hushed and worried.
Not a man with rape on his mind but a sister with grief.
A sister I couldn’t stand.
I laughed coldly. “So forcing me to sign myself over to you this afternoon wasn’t enough, huh?” My hand curled tight around my blade. “Come to cause more damage just like your fucked-up family?”
Jasmine sucked in a breath.
I inched closer to the door, nervousness popping in my blood.
“Just open the door. Now.”
“What? So I can welcome you inside for a sleep-over and we can paint each other’s nails?” I snorted. “I don’t think so, Jasmine. You’re a traitor to your brothers—a snake just like your grandmother.” Filling my voice with venom, I spat, “You’re just like them, and I want nothing to do with you.”
“You have no choice. Let me in the damn room.”
He’s dead because of you. He’s dead because he loved you.
My teeth clamped together. God, if she were in front of me, I’d stab her through her heartless chest.
“Piss off.”
“Let me in.”
“No chance. The next time we see each other, it’s not going to end well. I suggest you get out of my sight.”
Jasmine punched the door or rammed it with her chair—the noise signalled rapidly fraying anger. “Ah, fuck, what did he ever see in you?!” She bumped against the door again, lowering her voice. “We need to talk.”
“I don’t talk with betrayers.”
“You want me to get someone to help? ‘Cause I will. And you won’t like the consequences.”
My hand rose, the light from my side lamps kissing the blade with promise. “Do whatever you want, but I assure you it’ll be you who doesn’t like the—”
“Fine!”
Silence fell.
Animosity throbbed, slowly settling the longer we remained quiet.
Finally, a small whisper met my ears. “Just give me two minutes. Just listen. Can you do that? Or is that asking too much?”
I paused.
Two minutes was nothing in a lifetime. But two minutes to me was too high a cost. I existed on borrowed time.
“Why should I?” I drifted closer to the door despite myself.
“Because…it’s important.”
The genuine honesty in her voice dragged me forward. She sounded more real and true in that one microsecond than she had all afternoon.
Leaning around the dresser, I looked through the crack.
Not much was visible, but Jasmine’s face glowed in the dark corridor. Red-rimmed eyes, sad-bitten lips, and sorrow-dusted cheeks—she didn’t look well.
In fact, she looked ten years older than when I’d seen her at the meeting. Almost as if the past few hours had drained her of everything.
I wanted to slap myself.
Don’t believe it!
It was all an act. The perfect con-artist making me trust her because she looked so undone.
“It won’t work, you know.” I scowled. “I’m not buying into your sad sister act. Not after what you’ve done.”
Jasmine looked up, her face haggard. “I know you hate me. I feel it. But you have to put that aside and listen to me.”
If the door didn’t separate us, I’d wring her neck and throttle whatever conniving words she wanted to spout. “I don’t have to do anything.”
She reached through the door.
I stepped backward, raising my knife. “Don’t, unless you’re happy with four fingers instead of five.”
“God, why don’t you listen?!”
“Because I don’t believe a word you say!”
“No, not with your ears, you silly cow.”
I laughed. “Great way to get me to listen. Call me a cow again and we’ll see—”
“Didn’t Jethro teach you anything?”
I froze.
Livid rage cascaded down my back, into my legs, my arms, my mind. “Don’t you ever—”
“Talk about him? He’s my brother. He’s been mine a lot longer than he’s been yours.”
My ears bled. “Was, don’t you mean. He was yours. But he’s gone. He doesn’t belong to either of us, and that’s all your fault!”
She sighed, rubbing her face with her hands. “Why are you so damn stubborn?”
“Why are you so damn confusing?” My eyes dropped to her attire.
I paused, forehead furrowing.
A black blanket covered her legs, along with a black hoodie and black gloves. She’d either taken mourning to a new extreme and fashioned her pyjamas in darkness too, or…
“What are you up to, Jaz?”
Her eyes wrenched up. “Finally! You finally ask a decent question.” She looked over her shoulder. “Let me in. I’ll tell you.”
I shook my head. “Nope. Not going to happen.”
“I don’t have all freaking night, Nila. Let me inside before it’s too late.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What—what do you mean? Too late?”
“I’ll tell you if you open the door.”
“Tell me before I open the door.”
I wasn’t naïve anymore. I wouldn’t fall for any more Hawk traps.
She had her motives and secrets—same as everyone else. Only, what she’d said about listening…what did she mean? With my instincts? With my heart? What could she possibly have to tell me that I didn’t already know?
She was a heartless bitch who should’ve died and not her brother.
She scowled, her sleek black bob pinned back from her face. The more I looked at her, the more my heart raced. Something was off—something was wrong.
She looked like a ninja about to go on a robbery spree.
She looked as if she knew something I didn’t.
She looked as if everything she’d lived through the past few hours was a lie. And this was the truth.
This was real.
I lowered my knife. “What—what’s going on?”
She smiled tightly, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. “Will you believe me? Are you finally listening?”
Goosebumps scattered over my arms.
I swallowed. I nodded.
She sagged as if she could finally share the burden she carried.
“In that case…” She sucked in a breath. “I need your help.”
It took an eternity for me to find courage.
I knew the moment I spoke, my world would change all over again.
Finally, I murmured, “Why?”
Reaching through the door, she grasped my hand.
Her eyes glossed.
Her lips trembled.
Her voice split me in two.
“I need your help…because…” She squeezed my fingers, joy exploding on her face. “Nila, he’s alive.”
DEATH WAS WORSE than I ever imagined.
I’d hoped when the day came that it would be gentle—a tender snip when I was old and grey—a simple transition from one world to the next. It didn’t matter that I never believed I would reach old age…it was what I’d fantasised.
However, if I had known how excruciating it would be, if I’d guessed how prolonged and agonising actual dying was—I would’ve put myself out of my misery years ago.
Because this? There was nothing survivable about this.
This wasn’t heaven. Shit, it wasn’t even hell.
It was damnation on Earth and still I clung—no matter how fucking painful.
“You still—” I coughed, unable to continue. My lungs were heavy, my body on fire. I existed on the brink. The brink of slipping far, far away and never coming back.
I wasn’t dehydrated or starved.
I wasn’t cold or unprotected.
But none of those simple human requirements could save me. I’d run out of time, and it was now a simple matter of gambling on which malady would kill me.
The steady bleeding?
The spreading fever?
The bullet hole?
I’d given up trying to choose. I thought I’d faded hours ago, finally giving in to the pain.
But no.
I still clung, dangling off the proverbial cliff, too weak to let go and too weak not to.
God, please let it end!
I flinched as I sucked in a deeper breath.
Breathing…funny how I hated and loved the action.
Hated because another breath meant I’d survive another few minutes. Loved because another breath meant I still existed for Nila.
Nila…
My heart tried to hurry, conjuring the dark-haired seamstress who’d captured my heart. But all it managed was a pathetic patter.
Groaning with the weight of a thousand daggers, I looked at the cot across the dungeon from mine.