This was the true test. The ultimate trial on the numbing fog I’d ingested for the past ten days. I waited to see if her words would make me step outside the comforting blankness I now embraced.
They didn’t.
I was empty. Nothing could make me go back to the way I was. Not Nila. Not my sister. Nothing.
This game had turned into a fishing expedition, and as all good fishermen know, you have to let the fish nibble the bait before they swallowed the hook and sealed their own fate.
Swallow away, Nila Weaver.
Let me catch you.
Tossing the phone to the floor, I left her message unanswered.
I’D MANAGED TO last over a week before I sent him a message.
But once that boundary had been crossed, I couldn’t stop myself from crossing it every day.
I lived only to send more messages, hoping that one day, he would reply.
Monday…
Needle&Thread: Please, Jethro. I’m begging you. Don’t throw me away like this.
Tuesday…
Needle&Thread: Are you okay? Did Cut hurt you? Please…I’m going out of my mind with worry.
Wednesday…
Needle&Thread: Message me, Kite. Please tell me this doesn’t change what happened between us.
Thursday…
Needle&Thread: I tried to ditch my security detail today to come save you. But they chased me down the motorway. I can’t get free. I need you to come get me if I mean anything to you at all.
Friday…
Needle&Thread: What did they do to you? Why won’t you reply?
Saturday…
Needle&Thread: Answer me, Jethro! Just a simple message to let me know you’re still alive. You owe me that at least.
Sunday…
Needle&Thread: The world thinks we’re certifiably crazy. I agree with them. What your family has done is wicked. But you aren’t. Don’t let them take you away from me…
No matter how many messages I sent, no matter how much I poured my heart into them, Jethro ignored me.
He’d cut me out completely.
Seventeen nights since I’d seen him.
Seventeen days since I’d talked to him.
Eighteen days since he’d loved me, cum inside me, and shown me how much I meant to him.
And now, nothing.
I lay in my queen-sized bed, staring at the ceiling where a purple chandelier glittered from the moonlight streaming in through open curtains.
Anger overrode my self-pity, and for the first time since I’d been home, I cursed Jethro Hawk.
“Damn you!” Staring again at my blank phone, I gave it one more moment to chime. Come on…
It never did.
With a wail, I tossed the device across my room. It clunked against the rug outside my private bathroom, glowing in the dark.
My room was big, but not nearly as large as my quarters at Hawksridge, and despite the strange blend of comfort and stress of being home, I couldn’t find peace.
My eyes drifted over my top-of-the-line treadmill in the corner, to my overflowing walk-in closet.
This room was a part of me.
But now it was an enemy.
Everyone was an enemy. From work to strangers to family. I didn’t fit in anywhere. I didn’t even fit into my own thoughts.
Why was I grieving for a man destined to kill me?
Why was I so determined to return to a household of murderers?
Why did I panic every time nausea took me hostage?
I know why.
Because you’re more in love than afraid.
Because you can’t stand the way Tex looks at you.
And because you’re afraid you might be pregnant…
My father tore apart my heart every damn second we were together.
We couldn’t talk anymore—not about trivial things or important things. Our awkward conversations were stilted and fake. He couldn’t take his eyes off me, even though they were exhausted and ringed with shadows as deep as darkness itself. He shrunk beneath a lifetime of regret over me, over my mother.
And I hated that I couldn’t console him.
Why hadn’t he gone after her?
Why had he let them come for me?
Those questions were never voiced, but I knew he felt them, lashing the air with contamination.
My family were adrift, and I had no clue how to fix it.
I dug my tattooed fingertips into my eyes, banishing the thoughts of my father and pressing back the tears that never seemed to leave.
I huffed, the silence rejecting any noise and swallowing my sadness. I couldn’t stomach the quietness—the lifeless darkness.
I was safe here.
No one to hurt me, fuck me, or transform my soul with wings.
I am safe here.
And I didn’t know how to cope with that anymore.
My ruby-encrusted dirk lay beside me on the silver and lace bedspread. It belonged to the Hawks…yet it was the only thing I’d brought with me. I’d left everything at Hawksridge, including my phone. My father had banned me from getting another—he blamed the press hounding us for constant interviews, but I knew the real reason.
He wanted me to be cut off, untouchable.
But it hadn’t stopped me from commandeering a new one, and, like the love-struck moron I was, I knew every digit of Kite’s number perfectly.
Countless times, I messaged him.
But not once did he reply.
I miss you.
I curse you.
I love you.
He left me empty and all alone.
“JETHRO.”
I looked up from a small pile of diamonds on my desk and brushed overgrown hair from my eyes. My father stood in the doorway to my study; his stance was relaxed and open, a camaraderie between us evident after the past few weeks of my impeccable behaviour.