Not for us.
Not for me.
Fire blazed, gathering strength the more paper it devoured. The black ink cindered to ash, falling like black petals onto the desktop.
“Stop burning it,” Jasmine demanded, trying to knock my hand and dislodge my hold.
The paper continued to hiss and vanish.
I didn’t look at her. I didn’t argue.
I felt nothing.
Jasmine puffed out her cheeks, trying to blow out the fire, but it was too eager, too fast.
“Give it up, sister. Some things you cannot change.” In a matter of moments, the contract between Nila and me was no more. My stupid planning and ideas that I could win against my father no longer infected my brain.
It was so liberating.
Wiping the charred remains into the rubbish bin, I finally looked at my sibling. Her cherub cheeks and sultry lips were wasted on her broken body. She was a stunning woman, yet she would forever remain a spinster ensconced in this house under Bonnie’s control. “What do you want?”
Her eyes flickered in pain. Shouts and curses painted her skin, but her bluster faded before she even opened her mouth. Sighing sadly, she shook her head. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“What he did to you.”
The air became stale. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I don’t have time for this.”
“You have plenty of time, Jethro. Answer me.” Her face flushed red. “What’s happened to you? Why don’t you seek me out anymore? Why are you so remote?” She reached for my hands, but I shifted quickly, scooting backward in my chair.
Anguish weighed heavily on her shoulders, but I felt no guilt. Jasmine had a rough start in life. She continued to deal with her own demons, but they were her demons. Not mine. I’d finally found a way to be free and I wished to remain free.
“Is that all you want?” Cocking my head at the paperwork of the latest machinery upgrades needed for our warehouses, I pursed my lips. “I really am busy—”
“Kite, you listen to me and you listen good.” Waggling her finger in my face, she glared. “The day she left, I was so sure he would kill you. I suffered a panic attack thinking the one woman you loved—the one girl who could give you a place to hide—left you to die. But then I heard from Kes that you were alive. I waited for you. I waited three days for you to come to me—to ask for a fixing session or just to talk.” Dropping her head, her midnight bob hid her eyes. “But you never came. Ten days and you still haven’t come.”
I remained silent.
Jaz looked up, her eyes wet with tears. “You’re scaring me, Jethro. I miss my brother. I want him back. Tell me what happened, so I know how to find him again.”
Poor deluded sister.
Standing, I bent and kissed the top of her head. “Nothing happened. And I don’t want to be found. If you love me like you say you do, then be happy for me. I’ve finally found something that works and will never go back.”
Tapping my pocket, the gentle rattle of my pills said hello. I relaxed knowing if life ever got too much, if the tears of another drove me to breaking point, all I had to do was swallow a tiny friend and I would be fine.
“Goodbye, Jaz.”
Without waiting for her reply, I strode out the door and left my sister behind.
My phone vibrated its way across my bedside table at three in the morning.
I didn’t jump or tense.
In a way, I’d been expecting this to happen for days.
Picking up the device, I swiped the screen and read the blinking message.
I’d wondered how long she would stay away. She’d lasted longer than I anticipated, but I had no doubt that was down to the circus of stories and endless hounding by reporters—not to mention, her brother would’ve done everything in his power to keep her from contacting me.
But just like my father had said, Nila had reached out.
Unknowingly, she’d just begun the next stage and walked right into a perfect trap.
Needle&Thread: I’ve been staring at this phone for over a week, wondering what to say. I still can’t find the words, so I’ll stick with simple ones. Kite, I love you. I miss you. I’m here for you. I’ve become a prisoner in my own family. They watch me, guard me. I’ve traded one captivity for another. I need you to come claim me. If we work together, this can all be over. Please…I need you to fight for me like I’ve fought for you. I need to know you’re alive and uninjured. Jethro, I want you to take me from this place. Let’s leave. Let’s runaway where no one will find us.
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.