What he didn’t know was his words were too close to the truth.
Kestrel, on the other hand…
I squeezed his fingers again. He hadn’t woken up. He’d been in an induced coma for almost two weeks, giving his body time to heal. The bullet had entered his chest, rupturing his left lung, shattering a few ribs. Bone fragments had punctured other delicate tissues, ensuring his body had a lot more mending to do than mine.
His left lung had taken the full impact, deflating and drowning with blood. He’d been on the ventilator since arriving. Louille said if he caught pneumonia due to his system being so weak, there wouldn’t be much they could do.
I couldn’t think about that ‘what if.’
For now, he breathed. He lived.
You’ll get through this, brother. I have complete faith.
He’d always been the stronger one.
Louille also said Kes was alive thanks to the small calibre bullet Cut used and the rib that’d taken a lot of the original impact. He said it was surprisingly hard to kill someone with a gun—despite the tales—and proceeded to tell me a bedtime story—completely unsolicited—about a gang war in south London. A sixteen-year old had five bullets fired into him—one lodged in his skull, the other damaged his heart—yet he stayed alive and healed.
Kes would, too. I had to keep that hope alive.
The gentle whooshing of air being forced into my brother’s broken body soothed my nerves. Even though he wasn’t awake, I offered company and acceptance.
Hovering by his side wasn’t just about companionship.
I had a purpose.
My senses fanned out, waiting to see if any of his thoughts or emotions tugged on my condition. Day after day, I hoped he’d wake up. My sensory output stretched, seeking any pain or suffering—if I could sense him, then he was awake enough to emanate his feelings.
However, just like yesterday, I sensed nothing but blankness.
Sighing, I smoothed back his unruly hair. “You’ll get better. You’ll see. You’re not going anywhere, Kes. I won’t allow it.”
DANIEL’S LITTLE GAME turned out to be tic-tac-toe.
Only there was no winning, under any circumstance.
At the beginning, I’d refused to play, but he’d soon taught me that that wasn’t an option. Jasmine couldn’t do a thing about it. She was a spectator while I was the pawn for entertainment.
Family night, Bonnie called it.
An evening spent huddled in the gaming room where the Third Debt had been attempted. With no care or comeuppance, they played Scrabble, Monopoly, and cards.
Cut smiled smugly whenever I shuddered with memories of that night, peering at the walls and chess chequered carpet.
Kestrel had been so kind and honourable. Jethro had been so conflicted and hurt.
Jasmine did her best to keep me in one unbloodied piece, but Daniel was given free control that night. His rules: play the game he wished or submit to a kiss instead.
And not just any kiss. A sloppy wet slurp with his tongue diving past my gag reflex and hands pawing my breasts.
After the second kiss, I gave up rebelling and played.
Cut merely laughed.
Bonnie nodded as if she was a lioness teaching her cub how to play with its food.
Something had fissured deep inside. My soul folded into pieces, trying to protect my final strength and endurance.
My memories, my happiness, my passion…all slowly dried up the more I drank their poison.
It was happening. They were winning. I was so close to giving up.
They wanted me to submit by playing a stupid game? Fine.
They won.
Unknown Number: Are you around? I want to speak to you.
The seventh time he’d asked since we’d started messaging last week.
How many days had passed since then? Four? Five? I’ve lost track.
Every morning was a new challenge to break me. Two days ago, Cut had given me a bucket of icy water and told me to scrub the stoop of Hawksridge while snowflakes decorated the air. Yesterday, Bonnie summoned me to her quarters, forcing me to take her measurements and create her a new gown.
I preferred scrubbing the stoop to making that witch a dress with the same skills she’d belittled.
They’ve done other things.
My heart filled with fury and rage—welcomed after so much weakness and grief.
No! Don’t think about it.
I refused to sully my mind with them when I finally had a moment’s peace on my own. I wouldn’t tarnish this precious time with Jethro with memories of his demonic family.
Clenching my jaw, I replied:
Needle&Thread: It’s not safe. Anyone can hear me. Just message…it’s easier.
I sighed as the message sent.
Easier to lie to you, to keep you from knowing how bad things have become.
Unknown Number: That’s bullshit. I’m calling you right now. If you don’t pick up, I’ll have Jasmine drag a phone to you so you can’t hide from me anymore.
Shit!
Sitting stiffly against my pillows, I jumped as the phone buzzed with an incoming call.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
How could I talk to him? How could I pretend I was still the same woman, when I’d faded into someone I didn’t recognise? How could I keep my voice steady and lie through my teeth?
I’ve always been a terrible liar.
The phone jumped and danced in my grip. It’s vibration repeating what I knew: Li-ar. Li-ar.
You have no choice.
Running a hand through my tangled hair, I pressed ‘accept.’ Taking a deep breath, I held the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Fuck.” The curse whispered its way into my heart, warming me, kick-starting happiness that I’d forgotten how to feel. “Nila…thank God, you picked up.”
Him.
My friend. My soul-mate.
Why was I scared of talking to him? Why had I waited so long?
Curling into a ball, I breathed, “Jethro…”
“Fuck, I miss you.”
My eyes closed, fighting a wash of sorrow. “I miss you, too.” So unbelievably much.
“Are you okay? Tell me the truth. I know you’re keeping things from me.”
Don’t do this to me, Kite….
I attempted diversion, deflecting the conversation to him. My heart flip-flopped with tragedy. “I’m fine. How are you? Have the doctors been good to you?”
“Don’t change the subject. Tell me, Nila. Don’t make me beg.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “Hearing you, knowing you’re there and I’m not—it’s fucking killing me. The least you can do is reassure me with the truth.”
Reassure him with the truth? I almost laughed. There would be no reassurance—only lies would do that. Lies and blatant dishonesty.
“Kite…honestly, I’m fine. Jasmine has done an amazing job. She made Cut amend the Debt Inheritance so she has full control.”
Liar.
Half control. And not over the debts.
I’d been lucky the past couple of weeks. Yes, I’d been hurt and tormented, but there’d been no mention of a debt. No extraction of the Third or hint of the Fourth.
Long may it last.
“What have they done to you?”
Everything.
“Nothing. Honestly, I’m alive and waiting for you. I’m just so happy you’re safe.”
“Nila…you’re lying.”
I swiped at a renegade tear. “What about Kes?” I kept my voice to a murmur. “Has he improved yet?” I asked daily in my messages, but there was never any change.
Jethro sighed. “Goddammit, you infuriate me.” He paused. “No, he’s still unconscious.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You can make it up to me by telling me how you truly are.”
I glared across the room at the tropical fish tank with its finned creatures swimming unmolested in their perfect environment. They were free to be happy. I wasn’t. And I refused to make someone else unhappy when there was nothing they could do. “Don’t badger me, Jethro.”
Don’t be like them.
I hung my head. “I’m alive. That’s the truth. I’m not happy. That’s another truth. But what good is it to tell you what they’ve done when you can’t do anything to fix it?” My voice hardened. “Just accept that I’m okay and move on, alright?”
Silence.
My heart thundered against my ribs.
“Jethro?”
A hitch sounded in my ear. “I’m sorry. So fucking sorry.”
I melted. “I know. But it’s not your fault.”
“I’ll make them pay.”
“I know. We’ll do it together.”
“I wish I could hold you. Kiss you. My arms are empty without you.”
I felt that same emptiness—a terrible void ripping me into ribbons with its aching vastness. “I would give anything to be with you.”
Both of us fell quiet. What was there to say when we couldn’t talk about what we needed? What words could offer solace when only pain awaited?
“How long?” I finally whispered. “How much longer before I can kiss you again?”
“Too long.” Jethro sighed. “They said three weeks, but I’m almost ready. I’m not waiting that long. It’s already been too much. I refuse to leave you there another hour more than necessary.”
His passion soothed me even though I didn’t believe him.