But I’d made a pact. I will be the last Weaver.

I had the strength to stand up to Jethro and his family. He was mine. I just had to make him accept it.

“I told you I would come for you.”

The shadows twisted, revealing him as he stepped from the pitch black, moving closer toward my bed. He was dressed in leather and denim; an outfit I’d seen Cut and Daniel wear but never Jethro. He was no longer an aristocrat but a biker. The embroidery on his jacket glinted, and his large boots were whisper-quiet on the carpet. He looked like the devil—a deliciously dark sinner who’d come to ravage and possess me.

Another ripple of desire shot through my belly.

The closer he came, the more the past month faded. The lostness, the incessant vertigo, the lack of conviction I’d suffered ever since leaving just disappeared.

It was as if I’d never left Hawksridge. I couldn’t imagine why I would.

I can think why.

A torrent of torture and threats filled my mind. Cut and Daniel and Kes. They were my true enemies. Did I really want to go back there? I doubted I would get a second chance to escape.

I know what I have to do.

I knew how to end this. I knew how to save Jethro. And I was prepared to do anything to make that happen.

“Hello, Kite,” I murmured.

Jethro sucked in a breath, his chest expanding as he closed the final distance and towered over my bed. His heavy clothes couldn’t hide his sensual bulk. Every time he breathed, a soft creak of leather filled the silence. The thread used to stitch the diamond on his front pocket glinted in the moonlight.

I’d never seen him in full motorcycle regalia.

It did terrible things to my core. I couldn’t stop my craving—the heat in my blood or the wetness gathering between my legs. My mouth tingled to touch his, to bite his bottom lip and suck his tongue.

The room turned static. The hair on my arms stood up at the very thought of Jethro shrugging out of his jacket and climbing on top of me.

He swallowed, his eyes glittering dangerously. Holding up a small packet of powder, he whispered, “Do I need to drug you again, or will you come willingly?” He bent over me, his long fingers tracing my leg beneath the covers.

I trembled, frozen…desperate for him to drop the act and end the chilliness between us.

We’d been so close. Connected. Something sinister slipped over my thoughts. Something’s wrong.

“I asked you a question, Ms. Weaver.” His gaze dropped to my legs, his fingers tugging at the sheets. Inch by inch, he pulled, sliding the warmth down.

I didn’t say a word as he revealed my camisole, black satin shorts, and legs; the same legs itching to wrap around his hips while he took me hard.

“I missed you.” I couldn’t look away. The night beneath Hawksridge—the way he’d touched me in the springs and brought me back to life—made my heart swell.

He hadn’t said the words. But I’d felt his submission.

He’d fallen, too.

Just as hard as me.

Removing his hand from my covers, he tucked the drug packet back into his breast pocket. “Let me explain what will happen if you don’t honour your invitation and come with me.” His voice slipped into emotionless chill. “Vaughn and your father are asleep inside this house. They no longer have the interest of the press or media, and it would bring me great pleasure to teach your twin a lesson. Two seconds is all it would take to remove them from any future problems.” He bared his teeth. “They deserve it after the mess they’ve caused.”

Anxiety crept higher up my spine. His temper swirled around us as if we stood in the centre of a blizzard. I was used to that with Jethro. But whereas before I could sense something warm beneath his rage…now, there was nothing.

Touch him. Thaw him.

Swinging my legs out of bed, I gripped the edge of the mattress. “I said I would come with you and I meant it.” I did my best to hide my building terror. “Leave them alone. This is between you and me.” Taking a deep breath, I stood, bracing myself for a vertigo attack.

So many times over the past month, I would stumble whenever I stood. But this time…I remained stable.

My eyes widened, drinking in Jethro.

He does fix me.

He gave me too much to think about. Too much to analyse and read into. My brain was too frantic trying to see between his words to give into a useless imbalance.

“Did you come last night?” I murmured, remembering our messages.

His jaw clenched. “What happened last night or any other night no longer has any relevance in your future.”

I shook my head, my heart smarting with pain. “What happened to you?” I reached for him, wanting to clutch his forearm and reassure myself that our bond was still there.

With a sneer, he sidestepped, staying out of reach. “What happened to me?” Smiling coldly, he made me seem as if I were some idiot child asking for the universe’s secrets. “I got better. That’s what happened to me.”

“I don’t—I don’t understand. You weren’t ill.”

“You wouldn’t understand. No one can understand another’s problems. All you need to know is that I’m cured and I won’t make the same mistakes again.”

I took a step back, goosebumps scattering over my body. “Don’t say that. I’m in love with you. Something like that cannot be undone—”

“Love is a chemical imbalance, Ms. Weaver. I am no longer imbalanced.” He came closer. “Don’t get cold feet on your invitation. You promised you would come, and you don’t want to give me a reason to punish you so soon…do you?”

My skin pinpricked with panic. That sentence should’ve dripped with eroticism. But it wasn’t. It was cold…lifeless…like him.

Snapping his fingers, Jethro held out his hand. He kept his digits curled slightly so I couldn’t see the tattoo marks on the tips. “Come. I want to be back at Hawksridge before sunrise.”

I eyed his hand, taking another step backward. My instincts blared that all of this was wrong. My careful planning of seducing him and carrying his baby was obsolete if he’d turned back into the monster who’d stolen me from Milan.

“What did they do to you?” I breathed. “This can’t be real.”

He snorted. “They?” Stalking forward, he snatched my wrist. “They did nothing.” Yanking me forward, he slammed me against his body. “You did this, pretty little Weaver. Don’t blame anyone else for your flaws. I no longer do. I’ve accepted them. I’ve dealt with them. And now it’s time to go.”

He pulled me again, knocking me off balance. Pressing a hand against the chilly zipper of his jacket, I said, “I’ll come with you. I’ve told you that. But first let me write a letter to V.”

Jethro sneered. “No. No more letters or scams. The whole world believes they’re privy to our private business. Your family has done enough damage without telling your brother how to rescue you again.”

I shook my head, my knees shaking.

What had he done?

Why is he so different?

He was scaring me and not in a good ‘I want to blow you and then let you fuck me kind of way’ more of a ‘I’m thinking of stabbing you in the heart to see if you’ve misplaced it’ kind of way.

“It’s for those reasons that I’m leaving him a letter.” Twisting my wrist, I broke his hold and beelined for my wardrobe.

I was about to leave this house, this bedroom, this world. My world.

For good this time.

I had no intention of coming back.

I would either win or lose.

My destiny was elsewhere. I had no urge to pack anything—most of my things were still at Hawksridge anyway. Seeing as Jethro was in leather, I assumed he’d come on his two-wheeled death machine.

Rifling through my drawers, I quickly pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans, a black sweater, and tapered leather jacket to match his ensemble. We were both creatures of the night.

Jethro crossed his arms, glaring as I slipped on a pair of knee-high boots and stomped past him. “I’m leaving a note, and then we’ll go.” Not waiting for Jethro to reply, I headed toward my desk and tore off a piece of paper from my sketchpad. With my scalp prickling, I selected a ballpoint and tried to concentrate.

A rustle of denim sounded as Jethro came closer. His large bulk seethed behind me, watching my every move.

I waited for that spark—the lust that was always beneath the surface. But once again, there was nothing but ice.

Sighing heavily, I wrote:

Dear V and Dad.

I love you. I hope you know that.

The past few weeks with you have been tough, but I love you both so much. I don’t want to seem ungrateful for your hard work rescuing me, but this is something I have to do.

Don’t come get me.

Don’t worry on my behalf.

I have a plan.

If it works, then I’ll see you again.

If it doesn’t, then I’ll forever be your Nila.

I didn’t sign it. I just folded it in half and left it unaddressed on the table.

I spun to face my kidnapper for the second time in my short life. At least this time, I wasn’t petrified of the unknown. I knew exactly what I’d agreed to and how hard it would be.