If I tell her, I could kill her before she tells anyone else…

My heart skipped.

Yes, I like that plan.

Bracing my shoulders, I moved toward Bonnie. She’d escorted me into her quarters, ferrying me into the lift I assumed Jasmine used to move around. I’d never been in the silver box and hated travelling even a small distance with Bonnie in such a tight space.

Jasmine.

Does she know I’m back?

Could she sense her brother’s predicament? Was she like Vaughn and in-tune with her sibling’s well-being?

Vaughn.

Could he tell I’d been hurt? Where was he? The entire drive from the airport, I’d feared he would be at Hawksridge, firing cannons and charging with some fictional cavalry to rescue me.

But he wasn’t.

I was both glad and heartbroken.

Jethro couldn’t save me this time. I would do my best—I wouldn’t die without a fight—but what if it wasn’t enough? I was more alone here than I was at the mine. At least there I was surrounded by strangers. Here, I was surrounded by enemies.

Stop that.

It took every last reserve, but I shoved my fears deep, deep inside and embraced antagonising pompousness.

Bonnie expected me to be as broken as my arm.

She was very much mistaken.

Cocking my chin, I pranced toward her. “Did you miss me?” I eyed up her quarters. “Last time I was in here, I seem to remember I taught you seamstresses are better than flower arrangers.”

Bonnie’s rouge-painted cheeks whitened. “And I seem to recall I showed you what happened to Owen and Elisa and proved Jethro played into the hands of fate. He’s dead because of you. Congratulations.”

Goosebumps darted over my skin. I probably shouldn’t but Cut would tell her. I wanted to be the one to deliver the news. “He’s not dead. He’s alive and coming for you.”

Wishes were free. Threats were cheap. I could taunt her even knowing Jethro remained bound to a chair and lorded over by Marquise.

She fisted the top of her cane. She didn’t break decorum, merely looking a little ruffled and a lot annoyed. “I highly doubt that. How is he still alive? What exactly is the meaning of this nasty business?”

I glided forward. “You don’t deserve to know.” The pictures of Owen and Elisa still graced the walls. The overwhelming perfume of her flower arrangements poisoned the air.

My skin crawled with how much I despised her.

Die, witch. Die.

Bonnie came closer, her cane sinking into the carpet, her red lipstick once again smeared on pencil thin lips. “You look at me as if I’m the devil. You’re such a stupid child. Go on, you have my permission. What do you see when you look at me?”

My mouth parted, sensing a trap.

She waved her stick. “Go on. I want to know.”

I balled my hands, rising to her challenge. “Fine. I see a twisted, old woman who’s controlled her son and grandsons with no mercy. I see a soulless creature who doesn’t know the meaning of love. I see a scorned hate-filled Hawk who never understood the true value of family.” My voice lowered to a hiss. “I see a walking dead woman.”

She chuckled. “You have more perception than I gave you credit for.” Sniffing, she looked down her nose. “You’re right on some accounts. I have controlled my son and grandsons because, without me, they wouldn’t have the discipline required to maintain the Debt Inheritance and future responsibilities of this family.”

“When you’re dead, your legacy will die with you.”

“Yes, perhaps.” She smiled. “But you’ll be dead long before me, Ms. Weaver. Perhaps you should remember that so you don’t forget your place.” Stabbing her cane into the carpet, she sneered. “Now, enough, what do you have to say for yourself?”

My hands fisted. I stared at the flower arrangement on the trestle by the door. I’d had to stand there and listen to her high-class airs and demands, seething while she speared lilies and roses into oasis foam.

I hated the perfection of lilies. I despised the bright red of roses.

My temper swirled out of control. “I’ll tell you what I have to say, old witch.”

Bonnie froze. “What did you just say?”

If I did this, there would be no turning back.

I would die tomorrow.

But I could live today.

I could achieve more in one act of cruelty than I ever could in a coffin.

No one knew when death was coming.

I supposed I was lucky in a way—knowing the grim reaper waited for me gave me a certain kind of freedom. The knowledge gave me power to face my nightmares rather than run.

Plucking the vase with my good hand, I held the bushel of flowers as a weapon. Petals fell by my feet, dripping slowly in the heat of her boudoir. “You make me sick.”

Her eyes flared. “Put that down this instant.”

Tucking the arrangement haphazardly into my sling, I stalked closer. Wrenching the head off a red rose, I threw the petals in her direction. “You set a bad example for all grandmothers around the world.”

She stood taller but stepped backward. Not wanting to give up ground but wary at the same time.

I threw another destroyed rose in her direction. “You’ve polluted this earth for long enough.”

She lost to my invasion.

Her cane tapped for traction as she scuttled backward.

The door soared open and a Black Diamond brother came in.

Shit!

I breathed hard, fistful of petals and a standoff with Bonnie Hawk.