In my mind, I lived in a fake world of normalcy and safety. But somewhere out of sight, clouds were forming—growing heavier and more powerful every day.

I no longer trusted that the police could help or that publicity could keep me safe.

If the Hawks weren’t done with me, there was nothing anyone could do.

Hour after hour, I wondered why I stayed. Why I headed into the factory to work under crazy deadlines and demanding buyers. Why didn’t I just run?

The passion to create had gone.

I had no wish to sew.

I hated my listlessness.

I hated the coldness inside that no one could touch.

I lived in constant trepidation; serpents gathered in my gut, hissing with premonition. I missed Jethro with every fibre of my being. He was dazzling sunlight and now I lived in endless darkness.

I was dying without him.

But it wasn’t finished.

The debts weren’t done.

Vaughn wanted me to fly to Asia and hide. Father wanted me to enter witness protection and escape.

I didn’t want to do any of those things and worried about all of us—about what this had done to my family. But despite my worries, my clothing brand exploded overnight.

Nila went from exclusive couture to being the most wanted garments in all major department stores. Vaughn became the face of menswear and even dabbled in design himself.

And me…

I went from Weaver Whore to a slave for the Weaver Empire. I didn’t have the drive I once did but didn’t have the heart to tell my family.

The only time I had to stand still was to wobble with a vertigo attack.

I was paraded before media.

I was the centre of a worldwide scandal.

I was a marionette.

All I could do was clutch my brother as my life spiralled out of control.

I missed the tranquillity of Hawksridge.

I missed the lavender-scented breeze when I sat out in the gardens and sketched.

But most of all, I missed the soul-deep connection with Jethro.

I’d continued to bombard him with messages, but he didn’t text back.

Not once.

Not a single time.

My gut churned as the world laughed. Questions followed me wherever I went:

How could they get away with that?

Why didn’t they tell someone?

Why didn’t they run?

Even I felt that way.

Yes, the Debt Inheritance was used as a tool to wield power. Yes, it granted certain privileges to our pain. But none of that was the real reason.

There was nothing to stop Jethro or his family setting up a sniper rifle on the building opposite our home and firing rounds of ammo through our windows, slicing our lifespan in a blink.

They didn’t need the Debt Inheritance to kill us.

This was something more.

A game.

Something I felt was more to do with Jethro than with me. I was just the unlucky target. Just like any employee had to prove their loyalty and skills before a promotion, I had a horrible feeling I was Jethro’s final test.

Needle&Thread: I don’t know why I keep messaging you. You’ve cut me out of your life completely. Three weeks, Kite. Three long weeks of nothing. You’ve hurt me worse than anyone. I miss talking. I miss our messages. I miss…

I pressed send before I could delete it.

I shouldn’t miss him—not when he obviously felt nothing for me.

Try telling my stupid heart that.

My stupid heart fed me worry. I feared for his life. I had no way of knowing if he was alive or dead.

Waiting for a new message reminded me of the very beginning when I first started messaging him. I’d hang on a thread for one tiny response—waiting for a sliver of his attention. It seemed I’d gone full circle.

I leaned over to dump the phone into my bedside drawer when something miraculous happened.

It vibrated.

Oh, my God!

Fumbling with the lock screen, I swiped it on and stared greedily at the first text from Jethro in almost a month.

Kite007: That’s cruel, leaving the message unfinished.

My heart thundered. Resting against my pillows, I replied:

Needle&Thread: You’re cruel, not replying to any of them.

Kite007: Cruel is my middle name.

I glanced at my fingertip tattoo and its inked JKH.

Needle&Thread: No, it’s not.

Kite007: Believe what you want to believe.

Needle&Thread: What happened to you? Tell me. You seem different.

Kite007: I am different.

My chest deflated, sorrow drowning my veins. He’d let them win. He’d changed.

Needle&Thread: You might believe you’re different, but I know what happened between us. It’s not over because you care for me.

Kite007: That’s in the past. But you’re right. What happened between us isn’t finished.

My spine whipped straight. What did he mean?

Needle&Thread: The world knows. I heard they questioned your father. It’s only a matter of time before he’s convicted. The debts are over. It means we can be together—truly with no horrible ending hovering over us.

Kite007: Still such a naïve little Weaver.

Tears bruised my eyes. In a few words, he’d successfully tarnished my memories of him and made me doubt.

My hands shook as I responded.

Needle&Thread: You said you’d tell me everything—who you are…what you suffer. I’m asking you…tell me. Don’t let them win.

I couldn’t stand the thought of Jethro going to jail for what he’d done. Even though he deserved punishing—he’d been under the control of Cut. If he let me help him…he could stop his family and finally be happy…with me.