She refused to look at either of us, glowering at the ceiling.

Cut patted her arm. “See…that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

She stiffened, her fingers turning white.

Cut stroked her gently. “I must admit. I missed your presence in my home.” He smiled wider. “You’re such fun to torment.” He traced her collarbone. “However, these past few weeks have been rather enlightening. In fact, I’m delighted with the outcome and only have you to thank for it.” Throwing a look my way, he grinned. “You gave me my son. My real son. And for that I will always be grateful to you, my dear.”

Bending over, he pressed a soft kiss on her mouth.

Nila shuddered, twisting her head to the side.

I just stood there.

No feeling.

No jealousy.

No remorse.

“Don’t fight it,” Cut murmured. “Don’t ruin what you’ve started.”

Nila pressed herself deeper onto the table, no doubt trying to become invisible but not succeeding. I moved closer, taking the side opposite my father. Her eyes met mine, wide and feral. She sent a silent message, so loud and obvious I was sure my father saw.

Why are you doing this?

I thought you cared for me?

I had no intention of replying. If she opened her naïve little eyes, she would see my answer without me spelling it out for her. This was what happened to those who broke promises. She was a true Weaver. And I was finally a true Hawk.

Cut continued to drag his fingertip along Nila’s throat, following the contours of the diamond collar. “As much as it’s a pleasure to have you living under my roof, Ms. Weaver, I do have one requirement. I hope you don’t begrudge me my small request.”

Cut reached into his pocket and pulled free the single reason why we were here. He held up the item for her to see.

Gritting her jaw, her eyes popped wide.

The syringe glinted in the lowlight chandelier.

Fight and flight filled her body. “Wait. You don’t have to drug me. Jethro, tell him. Tell him you don’t have to drug me. I came on my own accord! I already promised I wouldn’t run. I won’t. I give you my word.” A single tear rolled down her cheek. “I’ll behave. You can trust me. God, please trust me. I’ll behave now.” Her breathing turned shallow and fast. “I don’t want to be drugged. I don’t want to be lost. Please!”

Cut laughed, hushing her spew of words. “I know all that, my pet. Calm down before you give yourself a heart attack.”

Nila paused, hope lighting her gaze.

Cut smiled softly. “This isn’t to subdue you.”

“What—what is it then?”

“I’ll let my son tell you that.” Brushing some hair that’d fallen over her eyes, he pressed another kiss against her mouth. She tensed but permitted the touch, not twisting her head away.

The fear of being manipulated by a substance had well and truly subdued her. I’d have to remember that. If only she knew that some drugs were better than life—that they made existing so much more pleasurable.

Cut stood tall. “I’ll leave you two lovers alone.” Stroking between her breasts, he smiled. “You’re free to do what you please for the rest of the morning, but I expect to see you dressed and presented for your meeting at noon.”

Handing the syringe to me, he said, “I’m watching you.”

Taking the implement, I nodded. “You don’t need to. Consider it already done.”

Cut stared, searching my reply. He would find no lie in my tone. No secrets in my voice. I meant what I said: it was already done. Being around her for a few hours hadn’t changed me. I was stronger than that and wouldn’t relapse.

He clapped me on the back. “I believe you.”

And there it was. The one thing I’d wanted all my fucking life.

Trust.

Acceptance.

There was no trace of animosity or disbelief. He’d fully accepted me. I couldn’t be more grateful. I have no intention of jeopardising what I’ve waited so long to gain.

Not for Nila. Not for anyone.

With a fatherly squeeze, Cut moved toward the door and left. The moment he’d gone, Nila turned her glassy black eyes on me. “Please, Jethro. Whatever he’s told you to do—please don’t do it. You know me. I know you. What we have—don’t destroy it.”

Ignoring her, I tapped the glass of the syringe, making sure there were no air bubbles.

“There’s nothing between us, Ms. Weaver.”

“Please!” She sat up, clutching my forearm. “You don’t believe that.”

My temper boiled over. Grabbing her throat, I growled, “Self-control or I will restrain you. Lie. Back. Down.”

Shivering, she shook her head. “What happened to you?” She tried to capture my cheek, but I dodged her grasp.

“Touch me again and you won’t like what happens.” I snatched her bicep. “If you move, this will hurt a lot more than if you’re still.” I poised the needle above the fleshy part of her arm. “And to answer your repetitive question, nothing happened. I’m not doing this because he told me to. I’m doing this because I want to.”

Piercing her skin, I pressed the plunger.

Tears fled to her eyes, twinkling like black stars. She winced as the cool liquid fled from syringe to flesh.

It only took a second to empty the injection. The moment it was gone, I withdrew the needle and tossed it into the stainless steel tray beside the table.