Chapter Nila #3
At the time, his question wasn’t too unusual. But now it took on a whole new meaning. He wasn’t asking about me. He’d been asking about his brother—keen to know how absorbing my pain had affected his empathetic sibling.
God, how bad had Jethro felt? How much did my thoughts destroy him?
“In there.” Flaw stopped outside the library.
So many memories were already stored in this place. So many breakthroughs and breakdowns as I grew from girl to woman.
Not making eye contact, he muttered, “They’re waiting for you. Better get inside.” Without a goodbye, he turned on his heel and left.
His retreating back upset me all over again. He was the last connection I had to Kestrel’s kindness and to Jethro’s ultimate plans.
Come back.
My soul scrunched tight as the ghosts of Jethro and Kes haunted the walls of their home.
In twenty-four hours, I’d gone through the cycles of bereavement: disbelief, shock, despair, rage.
..I doubted I’d ever get through acceptance, but I embraced my anger, building a barrier that only clearheaded, cold-hearted fury could enter.
I didn’t want any other emotion when facing Cut and Daniel.
Touching the dagger hilt, I straightened my shoulders and pushed open the library doors.
My eyes widened as I stepped into the old world charm of book-bindings and scripted letters. The large beanbags where Kes had found me dozing still scattered. The window seats waited for morning sunshine and a bookworm to absorb themselves in fairy-tale pages.
This place was a church of stories and imagination. But then my gaze fell on the antichrist, polluting the sanctity of peace.
“Nice of you to join us, Nila.” Cut waved at the one and only empty chair at the large oak table.
My teeth clamped together. I didn’t reply.
“Come.” He snapped his fingers. “Sit. We’ve waited long enough.”
You can do this.
Obey until an opportunity presents itself.
Then...
kill
him.
I drifted forward, drawn by the multiple pairs of eyes watching me.
Bonnie, Daniel, Jasmine, Cut, and four men I didn’t recognise waited for me to join them. The four men wore sombre black suits and aubergine ties—a uniform painting them with the same brush.
I drew closer to the table.
Daniel stood up, wrapping a vile arm around my waist. “Missed you, Weaver.” Planting a kiss on my cheek, he whispered, “Whatever happens here tonight doesn’t mean shit, you hear me? I’m coming for you, and I don’t fucking care what they say.”
I shuddered with disgust.
Withdrawing the hate from his voice, Daniel transformed into a cordial smile. “Sit.” With a gallant act, he pulled out the empty seat. “Take a load off. This is going to be a long meeting.”
I wanted to touch his pulse, count his heartbeat, relish in knowing they were numbered.
Soon, Daniel...soon...
Locking my jaw, so I didn’t say anything I might regret, I sat down.
The men in matching suits never looked away. They ranged in age from sixties with greying hair to mid-thirties with blond buzz cut.
Daniel kicked my chair forward so my stomach kissed the lip of the table. I sucked in a breath, straightening my spine uncomfortably in order to tolerate the tight arrangement.
His golden eyes met mine, smug and vainglorious.
I’ll cut that look right off your face.
My fingers twitched for my knife.
Daniel sat beside me, while the person on my other side hissed, “No speaking unless spoken to. Got it?”
My eyes shot to Jasmine. Her hands rested on the table, a cute gold ring circling her middle finger, while her seat perched on a small ramp, bringing the wheels in line with the chairs of the other guests.
She looked like a capable heiress, dressed in a black smock with a black ribbon around her throat.
She was the epitome of a mourning sister.
I don’t buy it.
I’d misjudged her—thought she was decent and caring. She’d fooled me the most.
Tearing my gaze from her, I glanced at the remaining Hawks.
Just like Jasmine, they all wore black. Bonnie looked as if she’d jumped into a jungle of black lace and fastened it with glittering diamond broaches.
Cut wore an immaculate suit with black shirt and tie.
Even Daniel looked fit for the opera in a glossy onyx ensemble and satin waistcoat.
I’d never seen so much darkness—both on the outside and inside. They’d discarded their leather jackets in favour of mourning attire.
All for what?
To garner sympathy from outsiders? To play the part of grieving family, even though they were the cause of murder?
I hate you.
I hate all of you.
My hands balled on the table. I wanted to say so many things. I wanted to launch onto the table and stab them with my knife. But I heeded Jasmine’s warning and stayed put. There was no other way.
Cut cleared his throat. “Now that we’re all here, you may begin, Marshall.” His gaze pinned the oldest stranger. “I appreciate you coming after work hours, but this matter has to be dealt with quickly.”
Bonnie reclined in her chair, a faint smile on her lips.
Every time I looked at the old bat, I got the feeling she was the meddler in all of this. She was the reason Cut was the way he was. She was the reason why Jasmine was disabled and Jethro and Kes were dead. I guessed she was also the reason why Jethro never mentioned his mother.
I’d been in their lives for months, yet no one had uttered a thing about Mrs. Cut Hawk.
Unless it was a miracle conception and Cut carved his children from his bones like some evil sorcerer, she had to have existed and stuck around long enough to give Cut four babies.
Where is she now?
Images of Jethro and Kes reuniting with their mother in heaven gave me equal measure of despair and comfort.
If she’s even dead.
She could be trapped in the house, on a floor I didn’t know, in a room hidden from view. She might be alive and not know that her husband killed two of her sons.
God, what a tragic—
The stranger coughed, stealing my attention. “Thank you, Bryan.” Meticulously, he aligned a wayward fountain pen beside his tan ledger before looking at his colleagues. “I’ll start, gentlemen.”
His grey eyes locked on me, gluing me into my chair. “You must be Ms. Weaver. We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting up till now.”
My back bristled.
Any man who’d studied the law and permitted the Hawks to continue to get away with what they did wasn’t someone I wanted to speak with.
Daniel nudged me. “Say hello, Nila.”
I clamped my lips together.
“You don’t want to be rude.” He snickered. “These guys have met all the Weavers. Isn’t that right, Marshall?”
My heart stopped.
What does that mean?
Marshall nodded. “That is correct, Mr. Daniel. I, personally, am lucky enough to have met your mother, Ms. Weaver. She was a fine young woman who loved you very much.”
I thought the pain of Jethro’s death had broken me past any other emotional agony.
I was wrong.
The mention of my mother crippled me. A sob wrapped wet tentacles around my lungs.
Don’t cry. Do not cry.
I would never cry again. Not as long as these people lived.
I’ll slaughter you all!
Jasmine arched her neck condescendingly. “Instead of torturing an already tortured girl, let’s get on with it, shall we?” Her eyes gleamed. “Leave the emotional battery to me once the legalities are straightened out.”
Cut chuckled, eyeing his daughter with newfound awe. “Jasmine, I must say, I never knew you were so capable.”
Bonnie preened like some proud mother hen. “That’s because I told you to leave her to me.” White tendrils of hair escaped her chignon, wisping in the low-lit room. “She’s stronger than Jet, Kes, and Dan combined. And it’s all thanks to me.”
I wanted to vomit. Or slash her to pieces. Either would work.
How could someone of that age, who should be tender and kind, be so heartlessly cruel?
Jasmine merely nodded like a princess accepting a compliment and turned her attention back to the life-stealing, blood-sucking, soul-leaching lawyer. “You may continue, Mr. Marshall.”
Marshall stretched his wrinkly face into a smile.
“As you wish, Ms. Jasmine.” Waving at his partners, he said, “Ms. Weaver, before we begin, we must honour the common niceties. I am principal director of the firm Marshall, Backham, and Cole. We have provided legal counsel and been sole conservator of the Hawk family for generations. My father was proud to be of service and his father and his father before him. There is nothing about the Hawk legacy that we are not a part of.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you know what I’m saying?”
I stopped breathing.
A part of everything?
So outsiders were aware of what went on inside these walls? Lawyers knew what the Debt Inheritance entailed and yet they were okay with it?
My body throbbed with another flush of fury.
I didn’t just want to steal three lives but theirs, too.
The corridors of Hawksridge Hall would flow with blood by the time I eradicated the amount of people in on this ancient serial killing spree.
Their innards would drape the walls, and their bones would rot the foundations with their malicious ideals.
That’s all they are.
Rich, eloquent, intelligent murderers hiding behind false pretences of contracts and signatures.
Would they sign a new contract giving me the right to slash their throats and tear out their hearts in payment for atrocities committed?
It doesn’t matter.
I didn’t need their permission.
I focused on the table, on the swirls of wood grain, rather than his face. If I looked up, I wouldn’t have the strength to stay in my chair. “You’re saying you presided over my ancestors’ executions? That you helped bribe away the truth and protect these sick bastards?”
Cut shot to his feet. “Nila!”
I ignored him, my fingernails digging into my palms. “You’re saying you helped change the law and enabled one family to destroy another? You’re saying you had my ancestors killed?”