Nila
DIARY ENTRY, EMMA Weaver.
He told me tonight. Lying in my arms, believing he was safe, he told me what he did to his brother.
Part of me can understand it—to spend a lifetime being told you’re second best, only to snap when something you want more than anything torments you.
But another part of me could never understand because I could never be that selfish, self-centred, or cruel.
One thing is for sure—his children are damned.
Even the ones not infected with his madness are ruined because of what their father did to their mother and uncle.
A shrill ringing pierced my concentration.
No!
I had to find out what Cut did. Why were Jethro and his siblings damned? What the hell happened all those years ago?
Three days had passed. Three nights where I slept in sheets fading with Jethro’s scent.
Three mornings where I’d paced and fretted and begged.
Daniel had been offsite, leaving me to boredom rather than torture.
I hadn’t seen Vaughn or Cut, and I’d been kept isolated, locked inside my room like a true prisoner.
Wasting three days in limbo was sacrilege. I wanted vengeance. However, my mind couldn’t stop swimming with worry. Jethro, Jethro, Jethro. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else was important.
The discordant ringing persisted; I wrenched my eyes from the remaining blank page. There was no more. My mother had left the mystery unsolved.
The Weaver Journal was the only thing with the power to steal me away from repeating thoughts of Jethro.
However, reading the journal’s pages gave me the strangest sensation—as if I’d lifted up the veil of time and looked at Hawksridge in a capsule of then and now.
Hearing about Jethro when he was young, about Bryan loving my mother, and even Bonnie thanking Emma for making her dresses—it was surreal.
Wrong.
Ring. Ring. Ring!
Tossing away the journal, I scrambled out of bed. Dashing across the room, I peered at yards of apricot fleece, searching for the origin of the ringing. Pushing aside fabric and opening a small cubby inside the storage cupboard, I found the source.
What on earth? Why have I never seen this before?
Plucking the phone off its tarnished cradle, I held it to my ear. “Hello?”
Instantly, a female voice said, “He’s awake.”
My knees gave out.
Slamming against the dresser, I clutched the edge. Adrenaline drenched my system like a tropical rainstorm. No matter how much I’d prayed and hoped he’d stay alive, I hadn’t truly believed it.
“Are—are you sure?” My voice was quiet as a mouse. “How can you be sure?”
Don’t give me false hope. I won’t be able to stand it.
“I’m sure.” Jaz sniffed happily. “I spoke to him myself.”
My heart leapt over mountains of joy. Bending forward, I placed my forehead on trembling hands. “Thank heavens.”
Jaz didn’t speak for a moment.
I stayed silent, too.
Both of us breathed loudly, living in happiness bought with hard-earned fortune.
Things would be better now.
Letting the knowledge settle, I focused on the other man in my heart. “V...did you move him?”
“Yes. He’s in a different room. Warm with regular food.” She paused. “I’ll keep an eye on him. I promise.”
I squeezed my eyes. “Thank you.”
An awkward silence fell, amplifying our unspoken need to talk about Jethro.
Jethro is still heir. He’ll end this. I know he will.
“Jasmine? How—how long—?”
How long will he be gone?
I was greedy. He’d been awake for only minutes, yet I wanted him now. I wanted to touch him, kiss him, hold him—cradle the truth in my hands. But that wasn’t my only reason. The real reason sat like a sinister splodge on my joy. How long will I have to endure Cut’s whims?
I’d been lucky these past three days. I had no illusion that luck would last.
Jasmine read between the lines. “How long is irrelevant. You’re mine. I’ll do what I promised, Nila.”
Fresh tears sparked into being. “I know.”
You’ll do your best, but ultimately, I’m alone.
Just like I’d been alone when Jethro controlled my fate. I guess nothing had changed. It was still up to me to slice out their loathsome hearts.
“And Ke—” I cut myself off. Stay in riddles and code. Who knew what lines were tapped and which walls had ears. “The other one...is he awake?”
Jasmine sighed heavily. “No.”
The single word throbbed with sadness, giving no room for questions.
A loud rustle, then a quick, “I’ve got to go.” A second later, the dial tone rang loud and empty.
Pushing away from the cupboard, I placed the phone back onto its cradle. Her phone call left me jumpy with hope and desolate with sorrow. I wanted them both to make it—hearing only Jethro was awake was bittersweet.
He’s awake!
I hugged myself.
He hasn’t left me.
Slowly, I padded toward the bed where I’d set down the Weaver Journal. At the last second, I changed my mind. I couldn’t handle reading about ancient conspiracies and pain. I needed to cleanse my thoughts with something I had utter control over.
Switching direction to the chaise lounge, I upended the basket where I’d stuffed a damask panel and Georgian lace.
He’s awake.
Those two words were now my favourite in the entire English language. I smoothed out the damask and pulled a needle free from a pincushion.
He’s awake.
Better than alive.
He’s awake.
Fate had finally been kind—the tables had finally turned.
Everything will be different now.
Cut, Daniel, and Bonnie would take Jethro and Kestrel’s place in the ground. The balance of good and evil would right itself. And Vaughn and I would continue with whatever dreams we had with no guillotine hanging over our future.
Switching on another side lamp, I bent to my task of repairing the lace with painstaking needlework.
It wasn’t late, but the sun had set a few hours ago and Hawksridge creaked around me, depositing its residents into the night.
The growls of motorbikes shattered the wintery air, Black Diamonds disappearing to run another smuggling delivery.
I lost myself in the exquisite craftsmanship, giving myself over to scattered thoughts. Jaz and Vaughn’s rescue mission had gone unnoticed. Flaw had done the impossible. Jethro had cheated death.
We won.
Could Cut tell? Could he feel that his sons weren’t dead?
It didn’t matter.
His arrogance was his undoing.
Tick tock. Tick tock.
His time is running out.
* * * * *
“She wants you, Nila.”
My head snapped up.
My room was no longer empty. It had invited a visitor while I napped on the chaise. The lace I’d been working on littered the carpet and the needle harpooned my denim skirt, sticking upward like a tiny lance.
Flaw headed toward me, hands in his pockets. “Did you hear me?”
I blinked.
By day, I left the dresser pushed away from the doorway in case legitimate requests meant I had to open it quickly. But by night, I shoved the heavy armoire across, allowing a false sense of safety.
How long have I been asleep?
Sunshine sparkled on the horizon, turning my side lamp mute with fresh daylight.
Oh, my God, I slept all night?
I didn’t feel rested. I felt tired and foggy.
Jethro...
He’d been in my thoughts all day. All night. All my life.
He’s awake!
I missed him so much—missed his golden eyes, his hesitant smile. I missed the epiphany when he finally broke and let me put him back together again.
I miss you...
“Nila...you awake or sleep walking?” Flaw clicked his fingers in front of my face.
I flinched. “I’m awake. Sorry, just a bit fuzzy.”
“When was the last time you slept properly?”
I shrugged, plucking the needle from my skirt and stabbing it into the pincushion. “Can’t remember.” My eyes burned from tiredness; wooziness existed in my brain.
He scowled. “You do realise they’re safe. You can relax a bit without grief ruining your sleep.”
Standing, my body creaked in protest from sleeping on the chaise. I stumbled forward with vertigo and my cell-phone thudded to the carpet by my feet.
Huh. I don’t remember retrieving it from my bedside.
Flaw stayed silent as I blinked away my illness and collected it from the floor. I must’ve grabbed it while dreaming, hoping for a text.
Did he message?
I swiped it on.
Nothing.
No messages. No calls. No emails.
I’ve been completely forgotten.
Some part of me hoped that now Jethro was awake, he’d text me. That for the first time in months, we’d talk like we had before this mess started. Kite to Threads. Inbox to inbox.
“Has he been in touch?” Flaw glanced at my phone.
My lungs deflated; I shook my head. “No.” Brushing stray hair from my eyes, I said, “I heard that he’s awake, though. You?”
A slight smile tilted his lips. “Yes. She told me.”
I smiled back. I’d entered Hawksridge believing everyone was my enemy.
Turned out, only a few people were worthy of that title.
Most of them were kind and honourable, wrapped up in their own issues, but ultimately generous and just like any stranger—frightening and mysterious until the boundary of no acquaintance distorted into friendship.
Kes had proven that. Then Jasmine. And now Flaw.
I knew all along I could win Jethro.
In a way, I think I’d known he was mine ever since I was young.
Once this was all over, I wanted to find out how many times we’d met. How many instances we’d spoken in our childhood—being groomed for our roles.
“Anyway.” Flaw swayed on his heels. “I’m not here for a social call. Been instructed to bring you to her majesty.”
My eyes widened. “What?”
“Not the Queen of England.” He smirked. “The Queen of Hawksridge.” Jamming his hands deeper into his pockets, his eyes darkened. “She wants a word.”
“A word or a beating?” I clutched my phone. “A conversation with the old bat, alone, isn’t high on my list of priorities.”
If you’re alone, though, you could kill her.
The thought welded me to the carpet.
“I wouldn’t recommend calling her ‘old bat’ in person, if I were you.”