The steam and warmth from the shower helped ease my aches and injuries, conjuring sleepiness and lethargic healing.
By the time I re-entered my quarters, Flaw had a spread of plaster strips, gauze, and warm water—just like Cut used in Africa. He shuffled me over to the bench, shoved aside my needles and lace, and ordered me to eat while he gently felt my break, ensured my arm was in the correct position, and re-cast it with confident precision.
I’d wanted to ask him questions about his life. Find out how he became a smuggler when it was obvious his true calling was to heal. But once the first mouthful of delicious food hit my tongue, I couldn’t stop eating.
And that was why I wouldn’t stop pacing even though my arm still hurt, my knees still wobbled, and my eyes still burned with unshed tears. I couldn’t sit still. I’d been on the brink of death, and now, I was alive with a full belly and the welcome numbing of painkillers.
What did Jethro have?
Nothing.
No one.
Out there, on his own, about to do the unthinkable.
Whirling around, I glowered at Jasmine. “He’s an Empath, Jaz. How the hell does he think he’ll make Cut pay without feeling everything he does to him? Whatever pain he bestows, it will boomerang back and hurt him in equal measure.” Gripping my damp hair, I missed the length. I wanted to tug on the ends and find some relief from the rapidly building pressure of despair.
Jasmine sighed softly. “I learned early on that Jethro is stubborn—especially when he believes he’s doing the right thing.”
“But he isn’t doing the right thing! He’s going to kill—”
Her lips thinned. “And that’s not the right thing? Tell me, Nila. How much disgrace, death, and debts does my family have to do to yours to make it the right thing?” She pointed at the closed door. “I bet if I found Tex and Vaughn and asked them what they thought of Cut’s justice, they would dance for bloody joy.”
I stormed toward her. The sling Flaw gave me kept my broken arm snug against my body, leaving me free to gesture with the other.
“I won’t lie and say I don’t want Cut to pay. That isn’t what I’m worried about. I’m worried about what it will do to Jethro. What if this changes him? What if he can’t wipe away—”
Jaz bent forward, capturing my hand. “Nila, shut up.” Squeezing my fingers, her temper glittered in her gaze. “It isn’t up to you. If Kite needs to do this—if he believes he has the strength to do this, then that’s his call. He’s waited almost thirty years to reap what his father has sowed. It isn’t up to you, me, or anyone else to interfere.”
I hated that she made sense.
My eyes once again returned to the window. My indignation and worry spilled out of me, dampening my desire to run after Jethro and stop him. My love for him flew out the window, winging to wherever he was.
“I just…” My head hung as I struggled to articulate what I truly fretted over. “I love him, Jaz. I love him so damn much. It terrifies me to think I’ve only just earned him and he might leave me. How can I help him if he returns broken? How can I piece together a future I want so desperately if he can only remember death and agony?”
Jasmine pulled me closer, forcing me to sit on the chaise. “Don’t torture yourself with what-ifs, Nila.” Her voice softened. “He will be able to live with himself, and I’ll tell you why. You don’t know what it was like living here since birth. You don’t know the mind games we endured and the unsaid threats we were raised with.”
Pointing at her useless legs, she smiled sadly. “I have a daily reminder of what our childhood was like. And Jethro…every time he looks at me, he remembers, too. I try to hide my inner thoughts when he’s around because I don’t want him to know how much I miss walking. How much I miss running and riding and even the luxury of leaving the estate and going to a shop to browse things on shelves that are eye height instead of unreachable from a chair.”
My heart broke for her.
I grabbed her hand with my good one, granting back the support she’d just given me.
For all Jasmine’s assurances that Jethro could withstand what he was about to do, I didn’t believe her. His empathy would mean everything he did for himself, for his sister, for me, would ricochet with persecution.
I couldn’t stomach the thought of how much strength that would take. How much courage to do something, knowing you would feel every inch in kind.
“I know he has to do this, Jaz. I just wish—I wish I could be there with him. To give him another emotion to focus on. To feel love even while drowning in pain.”
Jaz tucked her hair behind her ear. “My brother knows what he’s doing. He’ll remember how to block it out. He’ll remember how it felt when Cut taught him all those lessons.”
My heart froze.
What if he doesn’t remember how to block it out?
What’s the worse fate? Remembering or not?
My fingers clutched Jasmine’s harder. “Please, tell me he’ll come back.”
Jaz sat higher in her chair, pecking my cheek with a kiss. “He’ll come back. And when he does, it will be over.
“For all of us.”
“YOU HONESTLY EXPECT me to believe you’re going to be able to do this?” Cut spat at my feet the moment I removed his gag. His tongue worked, dispelling the taste of being silenced. “Come on, Jethro. We both know you don’t have it in you.”