Placing the loupe onto a velvet case in front of me, I smiled. “Need something?”

Cut cocked his head toward the corridor. “Only a word. We’ve all been busy with preparations this last week. I think a debrief is in order, don’t you?”

My mind prodded at the plans we’d made. The strict timeline when Nila would be ours again. The retaliation we’d lined up to dismiss the fading interest in my family’s name. Vaughn was losing power as each day passed. Social media was a feral beast baying for blood, but it was short-lived, quickly moving onto juicier gossip.

The longer we waited, the less power the Weavers had. We’d also fortified our alliances with the local police, who ensured they would stay out of our way this time—otherwise…well, they knew what would fucking happen.

Scooping the diamonds into a soft pouch and storing them in my top drawer, I didn’t worry that there were over three hundred thousand pounds worth of stones amongst ballpoint and fountain pens.

Strolling over to Cut, I tapped my pocket to make sure I had my vial of friends with me. The comforting rattle sounded, and with another smile, my father and I walked side by side through the bachelor wing, up the stone staircase, and to his office on the second floor.

My eyes flickered to Jasmine’s door. I hadn’t seen my sister again. I didn’t like being estranged from her, but I was above silly dramatics now. I had no feelings to spare. It was her problem not mine. I wouldn’t dwell on it.

The moment we were locked and secluded in his chambers, he motioned to his private stash of rare Rémy Martin cognac. “Please, help yourself to a drink.”

“Want one?” I asked, moving to the small bar and uncorking the decanter. My mouth watered as a generous amount splashed into a crystal goblet.

Cut sat in his favourite black chair and placed his feet on the coffee table housing the bleached bones of Wrathbone, his dog. My fingers twitched around the bottle as I remembered the last time Nila had been in here. We’d done the Tally; I’d inked my initials onto her body.

“Please.” Cut relaxed into the leather. Our dealings with one another had become highly civilized—businessman to businessman rather than delinquent son and disappointed father. “Untether him for me, too, will you?”

Depositing my drink on the coffee table, I prowled to the window and the beautiful bird perched on its stand. “Hello, Finch.” I stroked the breast of Cut’s pet hawk.

The bird preened under my attention. Its autumn feathers glinted in the waning sunlight, and its beady eyes remained hidden beneath its blinding cap. A horrible life really—to spend so many waking hours in the dark.

The silkiness of Finch’s feathers sent me into a trance. It was funny to think that all three of Bryan Hawk’s sons had bird of prey names, yet he never used his. Being the president of the Black Diamonds meant he used his brotherhood name. However, his nickname had always scared me as a boy. I could imagine him stripping the bones of his enemy’s carcass, just like his namesake: the Vulture. Bryan ‘Vulture’ Hawk. It was apt.

“Free him,” Cut ordered.

Tugging on the little tie, I released the blinding cap and Finch immediately traded quiet stroking for violent flapping. The bell around his ankle tinkled as he tried to take off only for the tether to jerk him back.

“Steady, steady,” I murmured, undoing the bow and freeing the bird. Finch had been named after his first kill. He hadn’t gone for the gerbil we’d released onto the lawn. Instead, he soared high and plucked the tiny prey from the sky and ate it in a few strips.

“Finch,” Cut said. “Cast off.” He raised his arm, already wrapped in a supple piece of leather. No one wanted a talon through his or her forearm.

In a rustle of burnished feathers, Finch launched from the perch and soared across the room.

Cut grunted as the weight of the large raptor landed on his arm. He grinned, his lined face looking younger and carefree. Stroking the plumage of his pet, he caught the creance and wrapped the cord around his fist to keep him in place.

Heading to the small refrigerator by the wall, I opened a Tupperware container and brought back a delicacy of raw rabbit liver. Finch instantly hopped and snapped his beak as I handed the meat to Cut. He grabbed a bloody piece and tossed it at the bird.

Sitting down, I sipped my cognac.

For a few minutes, we let Finch entertain us, the occasional bell slicing through the squelch of raw liver. Finally, Cut cast off the hawk and let him navigate the room wherever he wanted.

Toasting his glass to mine, his eyes shadowed.

Finally getting to the point, Father?

Clinking glasses, I settled back, waiting.

“You know I saw everything that happened between you and Nila. I’ve shown you the tapes of you fucking her. The close-ups of your face when extracting the debts. I’ve listed all the times you disobeyed me and went behind my back. You had feelings for her.”

I shrugged. Once upon a time, I might’ve panicked and done everything to deny such a revelation. Now, it didn’t matter. I was above all that.

“All in the past, as you well know.”

Cut nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m bringing this up now. You’ve seen the light, and I think it’s time you know a bit more of the legacy you’re upholding.”

I crossed my legs, nursing my goblet. “Go on.”

“Did you ever stop to think about other Hawks and Weavers who had to pay the debts?”

My forehead furrowed. “No.”