Jethro #2
Sitting with him, I suffered flashbacks of hunting animals for food and sport. For someone like me—someone who felt not just human emotions but even the emotions of the basest of creatures—I struggled to hunt like a normal, unfeeling being.
Cut knew that.
He’d forced me to hunt until I could switch off the panic of the prey and focus on the joy of the predator.
It’d been one of his most valuable lessons.
Focus on the hawk stalking the rabbit, not the rabbit running for its life.
Focus on the dog’s infectious joy bounding after a deer, not the deer galloping from death.
Those two parallels had been so fucking hard to choose between, but I’d done it. I’d even been so successful, the predator’s joy infected me enough for hunting to become almost...fun.
And now I was on another hunt. About to hurt others, about to feel their pain.
But I could do it because I was the beast, not the quarry. And I was surrounded by men who focused on the same sweet victory.
That was all I needed to know. I trusted Declan and his men. I just hoped they’d be enough if the Black Diamonds decided to fight against us.
I hope Flaw came through.
I didn’t want bloodshed. The Hall had seen enough fucking death. I wanted to end terror without more of it. But I was prepared for either scenario.
Hawksridge appeared above us, watching us with its impressive turrets and spires. The ancient building had been my home all my life. The grounds had been my salvation. The animals, my lifeblood.
I’d grown up running away from this place, but now, I wanted to turn my legacy around. I would rule a different dynasty from the one Cut envisioned, and I would do it on my own terms with Nila by my side.
Pointing at a service track—an un-tarmacked path with weeds growing through pebbles, I said, “Follow that road. It’ll cut across the chase and head in behind the main entrance. We might prevent being seen a little longer.”
Hawksridge sat perched on a hill. The design was deliberate for times of war and protection from enemies who might try to topple the estate.
No ambush could happen. No entrapment. We would be seen—it was a matter of time.
I just didn’t want to show my hand before we were close enough to launch an attack.
Where are you, Nila?
Was she with Bonnie on the third floor?
Was she with Cut on the fourth?
Or was she already in the ballroom on the ground floor, on her knees and about to become the latest stain in a horrendous basket?
“Step on the gas.” My order lurched us forward, tyres grinding gravel, skidding around bends and hurling us closer to the awaiting battleground.
I’d deliberately chosen to travel with two mercenaries and not Nila’s brother or father. I needed to keep my head clear and I couldn’t do that with Vaughn’s emotions bouncing kamikaze in his skull or Textile’s secrets gnawing a hole in my patience.
No one talked as we pulled to a stop by the stables.
A wash of homesickness crippled me. Not for the Hall but for Wings.
Being around so many people set my nerves on edge.
My condition flickered with intensity and numbness.
One moment, I was blank from sensory overload, and the next, I’d succumb to frivolous things of what the men would do afterward, what they planned to do during.
People saw fellow humans as respectful and civilized. Only, I knew the truth.
They were as animalistic as they’d been hundreds of years ago. Inner thoughts and unspoken quips painted them as vindictive, selfish, and focused on things that should never be revealed aloud.
It almost made me happy to know I wasn’t as terrible as I’d feared. I was normal. I was human. I had faults and flaws and fears, but despite all of those, I tried to be better, bolder, and braver than I truly was.
And that was what made right triumph over wrong.
Isn’t it?
At least, I hoped so.
The convoy rolled to a stop, and Dec gave the order to leave the cars behind. Boots landed on gravel, and car doors quietly closed. Concentration levels of the men added to the cauldron of emotions, and I wiped away a combination of fever and sweat from trying not to listen.
Once Nila was safe and Hawksridge secured, I would need to be alone. I knew the symptoms of system failure. I knew when I’d reached my limit. A wash of nausea climbed up my gullet, and my hands shook as I wrapped fingers around the gun Dec handed me.
I was borderline.
Overtiredness and over-empathy would end up killing me if I didn’t kill Cut soon.
“Come on.” I waved for the men to line up behind me, a black line patrolling from the stables toward the Hall.
Leaving the cars behind, I guided the men up the hill toward the house. We stuck to the trees as much as possible, moving in short waves. Weapons were drawn as we crested the hill and made our final descent.
I didn’t say a word, too focused on seeking weakness and attack points of my family’s home. I searched the shadows for Kill and his men, trying to see where they hid, but spotted no one.
The closer we got to the Hall, the more my heart pounded.
V and Tex shadowed my every move and luck kept us shrouded long enough to sidle up to the ancient architecture and fan out around the buttresses of Hawksridge.
Left or right?
I couldn’t decide.
Dining room wing or staircase leading to boudoirs and parlours?
The wind howled over the orchard, sounding like someone screamed.
I froze; my head tilted toward the dining room wing...the ballroom wing.
The noise came again.
Haunting.
Lamenting.
Dragging chills over my flesh.
It came again, shrill and cut short.
It wasn’t the wind.
Fuck surprise.
Fuck the regimented ambush.
Fuck everything.
Nila!
I held my gun aloft and charged.