Nila #2
“No!” My voice broke as the scream tore my throat.
“Fuck, that makes me hard.” Daniel licked my cheek, spreading disgusting saliva. “I’ll make sure you prefer me to my father, you can count on it.” His hand soared over my ribcage, latching onto my breast.
I squirmed and kicked and screamed and thrashed.
“Goddammit, you’re wild.”
I kept fighting. My petrified fear buried beneath lawyers of rapidly failing courage. “Stop. Stop!”
Daniel only laughed. “Tire yourself out. There’s a good fucking bitch.” He shoved my shoulders against the mattress, pinning me down. His legs spread over mine. “Been waiting for this day for months, little Weaver.”
His fingers tweaked my nipple and heinous pleasure shot through my system.
Lust.
Desire.
Pleasure.
No.
I could handle fighting. I could handle battling for my life. But I couldn’t handle wrestling with my body. That was supposed to be on my side. Mine. Not his.
Mine.
A surge of power swatted the drug’s effects away; I soared into life. My knee shot upright, colliding with soft balls and hard cock.
Daniel crumpled in slow motion, a guttural groan tearing from his mouth. His skin shot white as pain-perspiration decorated his forehead. Gasping for breath, he fell to the side, releasing me to hold his precious equipment.
Writhing away, I flew to my knees and rolled off the bed. “I hate you! Hate you!”
Somehow, Daniel fought through the agony, hurling himself after me to grapple around my legs.
We tumbled to the tent floor, pricked by twigs and debris beneath the canvas lining.
Daniel turned red. “You fucking bitch!”
His fists pummelled my side, stealing the oxygen from my lungs. I squirmed and kicked, but the liquor in his blood muted whatever I managed to land on him.
Stumbling to his feet, Daniel kicked me in the belly. “That’s for hurting my dick, bitch.”
Agony radiated out as fast as lightning. I groaned, sickness dousing every inch. I curled up, holding my stomach, cursing him in every religion. Somehow, I compartmentalized the pain and lashed out with my foot. My toes hooked around his heel, sending him toppling to his knees.
He grunted, but it didn’t stop him from punching me again in the thigh. “Plenty more pain where that came from. Like it? Do you like it when I kick you like the bitch you are?”
I moaned in torture as he rolled me onto my back. “You’re not going anywhere, whore. Not this time.”
The tent turned fuzzy as the drugs made everything so hot. My muscles were weak from lack of food. I wouldn’t be able to win the fight.
You can win.
I growled, aiming for his nose.
He deflected my hand as if it were nothing more than pollen.
I can’t.
I tried again, slapping his cheek, connecting with his hot flesh.
I can!
Daniel snarled, his fingers fumbling with his belt. “That’s the last time you’ll hit me.” His head came forward, cracking his forehead on mine.
The mutual pain crested through my skull, rendering me numb and lost. Swimming through it, I did my best to scramble backward, kicking him. “Leave me alone!” Somehow, I got free of his putrid embrace, crying in fleeting triumph.
“Fuck!” He grabbed my ankle.
“No!” My skin tingled, awoken by the drugs from the fire. I moaned as another flush of heat and hatred became bedfellows in my heart. Every inch of me was swollen and wet with desire. I’d never wanted sex so much but fought so hard to avoid it.
The awful contradiction stole every last dreg of energy.
He yanked me back, a morbid chuckle on his lips. “Getting tired yet?”
“Never.”
Yes, so much yes.
Tears torrented down my cheeks even though I didn’t permit myself to cry. My body bypassed synapses, defending, slipping into preservation. “I’ll kill you. You’re nothing. Nothing.”
“I’m nothing? I’ll show you fucking nothing.” Rearing upright, Daniel cocked his fist and ploughed it straight into my cheek.
Stars.
Galaxies.
Lions and tigers and bears.
I lost consciousness.
How long, I didn’t know. I floated in an ocean of affliction, vaguely aware as cold air licked around my hipbones, then arse, then thighs, then toes.
Lucidity slammed back as the rotten feel of his fingers on my pussy jerked me awake.
I came to with my jeans ripped away and my knickers wrenched to my knees.
The room spun as my cheekbone shrieked in pain. “No...”
“Yes.” Daniel grinned. “I’m going to show you punishment. I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”
The sound of belt buckles and zippers rapidly gathered my wits.
Fight, Nila.
Time had run out.
Daniel would rape me on the floor of a tent in the middle of their diamond empire. I was alone. If I didn’t win, Cut would take me next, and I would crave the day I paid the Final Debt as I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.
Please...
Sobs wanted to take over rather than fight. I’d burned through everything I had.
How can I win when I have nothing left?
Daniel shifted, jerking down his trousers, freeing his red-angry cock. “We’re in fucking Africa.” Daniel breathed hard, his breath reeking of liquor. “Know what happens in Africa?”
I didn’t respond. I never liked his answers. I hated his answers. Instead, I wriggled, trying to get free.
I’m done.
It was over.
It’s not over!
Memories of altered garments and sewn weapons flooded my mind. How could I forget?
My vision narrowed, searching, flying around the tent.
My jeans.
They rested an arm’s stretch away. In the leg, I’d hidden a scalpel.
The scalpel!
My heart catapulted in my chest with joy. The hidden blade would be my guardian. My saviour. Grunting, I stretched my arm out, fingers fumbling with the denim.
Daniel didn’t care about my attempt to grab discarded clothes. His fingers latched around my collar, shaking me with frustration. “You know, this would be a lot more fun if you played along. Answer me. What happens in Africa, Weaver?”
Spit welled in my mouth—partly from grey sickness and partly from vile disgust. My fingers stretched harder.
I can’t reach.
“Fuck, answer me!”
“I’ll answer you.” Turning my head, I spat in his demonic face. “Shut up! There? That make you happy, arsehole?”
His features contorted, but he didn’t move away. “That’s the last fucking straw. You pushed too far. Gonna do what I’ve wanted for months.” His breathing turned sporadic. “I’m going to break my promise.”
My heart stopped.
What?
I was torn between straining to reach my jeans and paying attention.
Get them. Before it’s too late.
“I promised Cut I’d leave you alive for him. But after that—” He chuckled coldly, his eyes darkening into golden blackness. “After that blatant disregard, I’m going to fuck you dead, you hear me? I’m going to make you scream and cry and beg and pray for motherfucking death.”
He smiled, showing perfect teeth that only childhood braces could deliver. “Get on your knees, bitch.”
Before I could respond, he hooked his fingers tighter in my collar. The thick filigree and impenetrable diamonds were the perfect lasso to jerk me up and flip me over.
No!
My jeans were no longer in reaching distance.
The moment I was on my knees, Daniel spread my legs and grabbed my hips. “Shit, yes.”
I screamed as he dug fingernails into my skin so hard he drew blood.
I gave up trying to reach for help. I gave up trying to remain human.
The drugs buzzed in my blood, twisting me with horror and desire.
But the desire was no longer for sex or pleasure.
Oh, no. This desire was for murder. To rip out his entrails and stuff them in his bleeding mouth.
To slice off his cock and present it to Cut as my trophy. This desire was my ignition.
This desire was my annihilation.
Clearheadedness settled into every cell, even as Daniel yanked me back and fisted his cock to thrust inside. Purity and precision slowed my breathing. Certainty and courage stopped my shaking hands. And proficient power guided my fingers to the hem of my hoodie.
I forgot.
But now I remember.
The knitting needle.
The one implement I’d stroked and caressed since leaving Hawksridge. I didn’t need a scalpel. I had something better.
A thirty-five centimetre, single-pointed metal spear.
Closing my eyes, I conjured everything I loved, everyone, every reason why I would survive and Daniel wouldn’t.
Jethro.
Vaughn.
My father.
I would survive for them.
No matter what it takes.
I gave myself over to bloodlust.
I did the one thing I was born to do.
I carried out my promise to my ancestors.
My fingernails were blades as I sliced through the loose stitching and pulled free my weapon of choice. My life might be over. I might be alone. But I wouldn’t die without taking a Hawk with me.
Daniel grunted, lining himself up to rape me.
My skin went cold. My heart went calm. And I fisted my knitting needle.
“You ready for this, Weaver? Ready to be fucked?”
I didn’t reply as his knees touched the back of mine.
I didn’t move as his thighs pressed against mine.
I didn’t flinch as the tip of his cock entered me.
I waited.
I hunted.
I swallowed my tears and fears.
Another inch inside me.
His awareness faded, focusing entirely on sex.
Weaker...weaker...
And still I waited.
Another centimetre of my enemy’s cock inside me.
I paused for the perfect moment.
Now.
I attacked.
Rage stole everything.
I wasn’t afraid of repercussions or consequences.
I wasn’t afraid of getting hurt or dying.
All I cared about was ending this monstrosity before he took my soul.
“Fuck you!” Throwing myself to the side, his cock slipped out and Daniel’s hold fumbled. The ground kissed my shoulder, rattling my teeth as I flipped onto my back beneath him.
For a moment, I drank in the final image I would have of Daniel. He stood poised on his knees, his cock swollen and hungry, his face rageful and surprised. A simple man turned into a despicable creature. He was no longer human. Just the mistake. The unwanted.
I did the world a favour.
I did the only thing I could do.
“Goodbye, Daniel.”
Sitting upright, I hugged his shoulders, lining my trajectory for perfect aim.
I wrapped my fingers around the needle; I pressed my face into his throat.
Energy exploded. Righteousness detonated.
I bared my teeth and bit his neck as my arm soared up, faster and faster, guided by the divine, flying with ghosts of my family, winging with the precision of fate, and pierced my mortal enemy.
The sharpness of the knitting needle slipped as easily and as cleanly as a knife slipped through expensive steak. Up and up, puncturing through his ribcage, slicing through his lung, and finally, finally, finally perforating his heart.
Time stopped.
The world ceased to spin.
Daniel turned from rutting animal to shocked puppet.
His eyes popped wide as the softest cry tumbled from his lips. His gaze met mine. His hand flew to where the knitting needle lanced his side. He was no longer my adversary but merely thread, welcoming my needle, ready to be transformed into a seamstress’s masterpiece.
And then, he toppled.
Falling, falling, falling to his side.
Vertigo teased as death swooped across Almasi Kipanga and whipped into the tent.
My wrist twisted as I fell with him, never letting go of the needle.
I rolled, straddling him, forcing the weapon further into his heart.
I almost lost my grip as he bucked and lurched, but I didn’t let go.
Using two hands, I pushed down. Harder. Harder.
Die, Daniel. Die.
I’d researched how to take a life while existing at Hawksridge. I’d read articles, watched examples, planned the perfect murder. To puncture a heart didn’t guarantee death. A ‘stiletto’ type perforation could be survived.
I had no intention of letting Daniel survive.
Locking my knees either side of his chest, I ripped the needle free.
An agonising groan came from his chest as blood oozed from the hole.
Daniel’s stupor fell away. His hands reached for my throat, his fingers shaking and weak as his blood pressure dropped from the orifice gushing in his chest. His brain starved for oxygen the longer his heart bled. He only had seconds before the machine of his body shut down.
His arms flailed. His palm struck my cheek, desperate to hurt.
Tears spurted and pain smarted, but I didn’t move. I wouldn’t have the power to fight him if his body hadn’t turned traitor, poisoning him from the inside out. But right now, I had all the power in the world.
“You fucking cu—” He coughed, his fingers slipping in their attempt to curl around my neck, grasping my collar instead. The impenetrable diamonds kept me safe from being throttled as I arched my arm and prepared to complete my final strike.
“Die.” The needle glistened with dripping crimson as it hurtled through the air and kissed his skin again. The wickedly sharp point crunched its way through flesh and fat, returning to lodge in his most important organ.
Daniel howled, his torso thrashing, face straining. He hit me, struck me, tried to knock me over. But I had an anchor—the needle. I held on, pushing down with all my might driving the end home.
“You can’t stop me.”
He bellowed as the needle tip slid deeper, deeper, past gristle and bone, impaling my victim inch by inch. He twitched and bucked, his fingers unable to snare as his nervous system shut down.
The wet squelch of my needle ripping another hole in his heart brought rushing nausea, but I didn’t falter. All masterful killers knew to make the result permanent, dedication and desire had to be invoked.
I was dedicated.
I desired freedom.
I would finish this.
Holding the base of the needle, I twisted it like a corkscrew.
“Ah!” Daniel jerked. His arms fell to his side, scrabbling at the needle, but it was too late. Adrenaline would keep him animated for another few seconds, but it was already done.
I took his life, not with horror or regret, but with no mercy and complete acceptance.
A life for a life.
He owed me that.
Watching him succumb iced my blood, turning me into a ruthless executioner. His golden eyes met mine, gasping for hope and help. His motions turned languid and dull, a broken pawn, never to live again.
“How does it feel, Daniel? To know you’ve lost?” I gasped, but my nerves remained calm. “How does it feel to know a Weaver took your soul?”
He never had the chance to answer. His face froze of vitality. His breath wheezed, his heart stopped, and in those final seconds before his soul leapt free, he snarled with sinister hate.
Then...emptiness.
There were no longer two people in my tent, only one. Just me.
Just me.
I killed him.
As if the universe rejoiced in one less monster breathing its air, a lion bayed on the dawn’s horizon. Daniel’s blood slowly seeped in an odd little trickle around my needle. Weeping wetly and warmly, staining his chest like spilled wine.
He twitched.
I rejoiced.
I’d killed my first Hawk.
Daniel...
...
was dead.