I flinched as Bonnie closed the gap and stroked her swollen fingers along my diamond collar. “You’ve lived in our hospitality for six months. The least you can do is show a bit of gratitude.” Grabbing a chunk of my long hair, she shoved me toward the barbaric contraption. “Now sit and be thankful.”
Jasmine positioned herself beside me, holding out a hand to help me lower onto the spikes. I thanked my foresight for wearing jeans. The thick denim would protect me to a degree.
Trembling a little, I turned around to sit.
Unfortunately, Cut must’ve read my mind. “Ah, ah, Nila. Not so fast.” Gripping my elbow, he hoisted me back up. “That would be far too easy.”
My heart stopped.
Laughing, he tugged at my waistband. “Clothing off.”
Jasmine said, “Father, the spikes will hurt enough—”
“Not nearly enough.” His glare was enough to incinerate her.
Sighing, Jaz faced me. “Take them off.” Holding out her arm like a temporary hanger, she narrowed her eyes. “Quickly.”
Gritting my teeth, I fumbled with the hem of my jumper. I should be comfortable being naked around these people—it’d happened often enough—but being asked to strip brought furious, degrading tears to my eyes.
Breathing hard, I yanked my jumper off and undid my jeans. Shimmying them down my legs, I shivered at the biting air. The dining room had a fire roaring in the imposing fireplace, but the flames hadn’t extinguished the wintery chill.
A resounding thud landed behind me.
Oh, no!
Cut’s eyes dropped to the ruby encrusted dirk lying in full view.
I wanted to curl up and die. I’d become so used to it wedged against my back, I forgot the knife was there.
Cut gave me a sly smile, bending to pick it up.
Quick!
Squatting, I scooped up the blade before he had chance. His eyes widened as I brandished it in his face. “Don’t touch me.”
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Nila.”
My mouth watered at the thought of somehow stabbing everyone in the heart all at once.
Jabbing the air between Cut and me, I snarled, “I should’ve done this months ago. I should’ve murdered you the moment I met you.”
His body stiffened. “Just try it.” His eyes flickered behind me. “You have two choices. Try and attack me and pay. Or hand over the knife and pay.”
“I’d rather kill you and win.”
“Yes, well, that will never happen.” Snapping his fingers, he ordered, “Colour, take the knife.”
I whirled around but was too late. Colour, a Black Diamond brother who I’d seen once or twice, yanked the dirk from my hand like a rattle from a baby. My fingers throbbed with emptiness as Colour handed the blade to Cut.
My fight evaporated.
I’d tried.
My one rebellion was over, and what was my reward?
Pain and humiliation.
“Thank you, Colour.”
Colour nodded, retreating back to his hidey-hole by the fireplace. The large rococo style fire-surround hid most of him from view, giving the illusion of privacy.
Cut waved the blade in my face. “Rather interesting piece of equipment to have down your jeans, Nila.” Running the sharp edge over my collar, his face darkened. “Not only are you a troublemaker, but you’re also a thief.”
Placing the dirk down his own waistband, he smiled evilly. “I’ll remember that for future payments.”
Standing in a black bra and knickers, I squeezed my eyes. Nothing was going as I’d planned. Where was my courage—the belief that I would plunge that blade into his heart the moment I had the chance?
My chance was gone.
“Get rid of the bra,” Cut said. “Unless you want me to use the knife to help you.”
My hands flew between my shoulder blades, grabbing the clasp.
Bonnie coughed. “No, I think not. Keep your undergarments on.”
My eyes soared open.
“What?” Cut scowled.
She wrinkled her nose. “Seeing a naked gutter rat will ruin my appetite.”
Cut chuckled. “You have the strangest ideals, mother.”
She sniffed. “Excuse me if I prefer to enjoy my meal without being repulsed.” Swatting her cane at the chair again, she added, “Sit down. Shut up. And reflect on what you’ve done.”
Jasmine nudged me forward, playing the perfect role of enemy.
The cold tightened my skin, flurried my heart, and pinpricked my toes as I bent my knees and sat. I bit back a cry as thousands of nails kissed my butt and thighs.
My legs shook as I lowered myself slowly, doing my best to stay aloft and hovering over the sharp, stabbing needles.
“Stop fighting the inevitable, Nila.” Cut stepped behind the chair.
I tensed.
Then I screeched as he pushed on my shoulders, pressing me cruelly onto the nails. Pulling me back toward him, he wrapped an arm around my chest, hugging me from behind.
His breath wafted hot in my ear. “Hurts, doesn’t it? Feeling thousands of pins slowly sinking into your skin?”
I couldn’t concentrate on anything but the millions of tiny fires slowly worming their way through my flesh.
Bonnie stole my wrists, yanking my arms forward and pushing them against the spiked armrests. The entire chair bristled with armament and agony.
“Stop!” I fought her, but Jasmine took her grandmother’s place, forcing my arm against the nails and wrapping the leather cuffs around me.
She couldn’t make eye contact, fumbling with the buckle. “This isn’t to kill you, so the binds won’t be tight. It’s merely to keep you in place.”
Tears ran unbidden down my cheeks as every inch throbbed with pain and tension. I couldn’t relax—I kept every muscle locked, so I didn’t sink further onto the spikes.
“Don’t fight it, Nila.” Jasmine tested the cuffs before rolling away. “It’ll get easier.”
Easier?
Every inch of my skin smarted. My sense of touch went haywire, flicking from my back to forearms to calves to arse. It couldn’t distinguish which part hurt the most. I couldn’t tell if certain areas bled or pierced or if the nails were blunt with age and only tenderising instead of stabbing.
Either way, it was awful. As far as torture equipment went, I wanted off the chair immediately. I would take the First Debt again because at least the pain came in waves and was over quickly—this…it would strip my mind, throb by throb, until I was a quivering mess of agony.
Panting, I breathed through my nose. My scattered mind bounced like a wayward squash ball, not letting me tame my anxiety.
Cut chuckled as he dropped to his haunches before me. “The beginning is the easy part.” Rising, he pecked my cheek with a gentle kiss. “Just wait and see what’ll happen as the clocks tick onward.”
He looked at Bonnie. “How long did we say, mother?”
Bonnie checked a dainty gold watch around her wrist. “Elisa suffered two hours during dinner.”
Cut grinned. “Perfect. Make it three.”
I slammed back to the present, coughing with a rattling explosion. My fingers rubbed the healing scabs dotted like constellations down the back of my thighs, back, and arms. The sores had switched from blazing to itchy as my body healed, but the remnants of the nails had marked me far more than superficially.
Even now, days later, I still felt the numerous stings.
I fell asleep with phantom nails stabbing me and woke up hyperventilating, dreaming of being trapped in a coffin lanced with millions of needles.
Three hours in that chair had been the worst three hours of my life.
I supposed I should be honoured that they went out of their way to destroy me. I’d proven to be an anomaly, a challenge they hadn’t anticipated. I’d screwed up their grand plans and set in motion things that no one should have to endure.
And that was just the start.
That night, after the Iron Chair, I succumbed to a rattling flu.
I had no reserves. Barely eaten. Lacked sunlight and love.
Living with such evil and negativity stripped my immune system, shooting me straight into chills and body aches.
And there was no one to nurse me better.
Vaughn was banished from my sight. Jasmine was missing.
The rest became a blur as I’d huddled in a sweat-riddled bed and shivered.
My room never rose above a chill. I had no energy to start a fire, and even if I did, I’d been given no fresh wood to start one.
I was cold and hungry and desperately wanted to leave. I tried to remember what life was like before Hawksridge, before Jethro left, before my mother died. But I came up empty. All those happy memories were blank.
Unknown Number: Fuck, I miss you. Knowing you’re okay…I can’t tell you how thankful I am. Is that the truth? Is she keeping you safe?
My heart fell off its pedestal, splattering on the floor. I was okay. I was stronger than I looked, but I wasn’t as brave as I believed.
I coughed again, wracked with sick shivers.
Jethro, I want to tell you everything.
Tell you what you mean to me.
Tell you what they’ve done to me.
I wanted to cry on his shoulder and share my burdens—to eradicate what I’d lived through, so I could let go and forget. Instead, I bottled it up and kept my secrets.
Needle&Thread: Yes, I’m safe. She’s been wonderful. They haven’t touched me. Don’t worry about me. Just get better.