I’ll live.

You better.

I smiled at the last silent message. I would live because I deserved to. Jethro, too. We would find each other again—even with imminent separation about to tear us apart.

Washing his hands in a fresh bucket of water, Cut smiled at his handiwork. “All done.” His eyes glinted. “How does it feel to be a millionaire with so many diamonds against your skin?”

I tapped the collar condescendingly. “Like I’ve felt ever since Jethro put the Weaver Wailer on me.”

I looked at Jethro shooting an apology. I didn’t mean that in a bad way.

He squeezed his eyes, flinching against the memories of our fucked-up beginning.

Cut nodded. “That’s a fair comment. You’ve worn more diamonds than most Hawks in their lifetimes.” He cocked his head at Jethro. “Did you notice Kite’s lapel pin? That two carat diamond was handed down for generations. I gave it to him on his sixteenth birthday when he assured me he had his condition under tight control. I wanted nothing more than to believe him.” His voice softened. “I know you can’t comprehend it, but I do love my son, Nila. More than you’ll know.”

I snorted. “Did you love Kes when you shot him? Or Daniel when you let him grow up believing he was an unwanted mistake?”

Cut froze. “What do you know about that?”

Unwittingly, I handed weight to my previous lie. “I told you. We shared the night together. He shared a little of his past. He opened up to me because I gave him what he needed.”

Jethro didn’t move on the floor.

For the first time, Cut paused. His eyes narrowed as his brain mulled over my answer. He looked unsure…contemplating it might be the truth, after all.

I doubted he would ever find Daniel’s remains. I might get away with his murder, all thanks to a hunting party of lionesses.

I never knew nature can be such a competent alias.

“Regardless, when Daniel is found, I’ll learn the truth and shall decide on your punishment.” Cut dried his hands and ran both through his white hair. “Now the Fourth Debt has been paid, it’s time for us to depart.”

Striding across the cave, he squatted by Jethro and swatted his son’s dirty cheek. “Make yourself at home. I’ll give the staff instructions to release you once we’ve been at Hawksridge for a few days and there’s no way for you to interfere.” Standing, he smiled at me. “All you have to do, Nila, is get through security with my diamonds still in your possession and your lover will remain alive. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

I slid off the chair, wobbling a little with vertigo and residual pain.

Moving toward Jethro, I ached to hug him, kiss him, tell him I loved him and always would. But Cut stopped me half way, planting a stern hand on my breastbone. “No. Say your goodbyes from a distance.”

I shook my head. “Why can’t I touch him? What harm can it do?”

Cut clenched his jaw. “More harm than I’d like.”

“You know I have no weapons to give him.” My temper surged. “You know I have a broken arm and am suffering a serious case of shock. Let me say a proper goodbye. You owe me that.”

Cut breathed hard, preventing my path. But slowly, he nodded. “Fine.”

The minute he’d cleared my trajectory, I rushed forward and landed on my knees. My good hand tugged at the awful duct tape around Jethro’s mouth. “Breathe.” That was all the warning I gave him.

With a quick rip, I tore the stickiness away from his five o’ clock shadow and yanked out the disgusting gag.

He hacked and spluttered, sucking in a noisy breath.

Cut stomped forward, towering over me. “Nila fucking Weaver—”

I glared at him, balling the sodden gag and throwing it at his face. My left arm never had strong coordination, and the toss ended up soaring past his cheek. “He can barely breathe. Shut up! Letting him talk won’t change things, you monster.”

“Needle—” Jethro coughed, spittle landing on his chin.

Needle.

The name I’d asked him to call me so many months ago when I didn’t know he was Kite007. Tears sprang to my eyes. “I’m here.”

I wished I could sit him upright, but he’d broken the chair and without cutting the ropes, I couldn’t help him.

God, I hate this. All of this.

Jethro smiled, grimacing with pain. “Fuck, Nila, I’m—”

I placed a shaking finger over his dried lips. “Don’t. I know.”

We shared an endless look, weighted with past and present. The unsaid words sank into my soul like a heavy anchor, lodging itself in my heart forever.

Bending over him, I brushed my lips against his temple. His bloody temple from the car crash. How badly was he injured? His forehead still burned from his fever and the gunshot wound on his side hadn’t scabbed.

He needs help. And fast.

Glancing at Cut, I begged, “Please, bring him with us. He needs a doctor.”

Cut crossed his arms. “He’ll stay here until I say.”

“But—”

“No fucking buts.” Holding out his hand, Cut snapped, “You’ve said goodbye. Time to go.”

“No!”

Cut towered higher. “The longer you deny what will happen—regardless of your willingness—the longer Jethro has to go without medical help.” He cocked his head. “Does that encourage you now? Knowing you have the power to get him much-needed attention by behaving?”