But despite my bouncing mind and infectious energy, my body grew stiffer by the moment.
It ached, it screamed, it needed to rest.
I’d returned from the dead.
Relearning to live again wasn’t easy.
I would have days of recovering ahead and it became painfully obvious when I went to stand. My shoulders cried from the simple motion of shoving my sheets away. My legs promptly went on strike as they touched the thick carpet.
I remained vertical for a brief moment, before face planting instead.
I didn’t walk anymore, I hobbled.
I didn’t talk, I croaked.
I wore bracelets of bruising around my wrists and ankles, and my skin retained its ghostly white, as if I hadn’t quite shed death’s grip.
No matter how alive I’d been with Jethro last night…today, I was paying for it.
I hadn’t wanted him to leave—not when he was blistering open and profound. I would’ve preferred to fall asleep in his embrace. But I knew that, regardless of our alliance to one another, his family was still in charge. Things had to go on as if nothing had changed—even though everything had.
My stomach rumbled, adding another discomfort on top of all the rest.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten.
After a slow shower and an even slower time of getting dressed, I headed to the door, hissing between my teeth with every step.
I wouldn’t permit my body to steal my plans for today. Jethro was taking me away. He would talk. Nothing would destroy that.
Perhaps it could wait until tomorrow.
The thought of returning to the softness of my mattress almost made me turn around.
No!
I was just stiff—that was all. As long as I got on with life, I would heal faster.
Gritting my teeth, I forced my aching muscles to slowly propel me toward the dining room.
As I pushed open the double doors and entered the cavernous space with its dripping blood-red walls and excessively big portraits of past Hawks, my attention swooped to the armoury and the empty place that had held my dirk.
That same dirk was now tucked into the waistband of my yoga pants.
The scents of freshly brewed coffee and intoxicating aroma of buttery pastries turned my hunger into a sharp pang.
Cut looked up from his newspaper, a large grin splitting his face. “Ah, Nila! You’re awake from the dead.” He laughed at his tasteless joke. Folding the paper, he waved to a few free chairs.
The dining room was a busy place this morning. Black Diamond brothers were scattered around the twenty seated table, eating an array of full English breakfasts.
Tugging on the cuffs of my long sleeve baby-blue jumper, I drifted forward, cursing the creak in my joints.
I second-guessed my need for breakfast and hovered by a chair. If I didn’t sit down soon, I’d fall, but I didn’t think I could tolerate eating with my archenemies.
Where is he?
I needed to make sure Jethro hadn’t had second thoughts. That we were still together—still true.
“I see Jet revived you.”
Daniel’s voice made my head snap up. He sat between two bikers, gnawing on a sausage.
Crap, I hadn’t seen him. If I’d known he was here, I would’ve forgone an entire day of food.
Daniel sneered. “He’s such a soft-hearted prick. If it were me, I would’ve just let you drown.”
My fingers curled around the back of a chair. “Lucky for me, you’re not firstborn.”
Daniel lost his smirk. His face grew black. “Not lucky for you, though, little Weaver.”
What did he mean by that?
Then the doors swung wide and Jethro appeared.
The man who’d drugged me, kidnapped me, and stolen my heart strode quickly to my side and took my elbow.
Every atom wanted to sway into his support. Every cell demanded I turn and kiss him.
But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t let Cut see what’d happened.
It was one thing to be blatant in my hate for Jethro at the beginning, but now it proved a hard task to pretend. I had to openly despise him, all while suffocating my heart from showing the truth.
It took all my willpower, but I sidestepped out of Jethro’s hold. “Don’t you think you did enough yesterday? Don’t touch me.”
Jethro sucked in a harsh breath.
Daniel chuckled, smacking his lips. “Seems you’re as hated as us now, brother. Congratulations.”
Jethro’s eyebrows knitted together, his gaze flaring with hurt.
I willed him to understand.
The tightness suddenly faded around his mouth, his forehead smoothing into a perfect mask.
He knows.
His gaze met mine. With a barely noticeable nod, he agreed to our deception. A second later, a cold shield slammed over his face as effortlessly as breathing. He glittered with ice, so pure, so sharp.
If I didn’t bear the marks of his teeth and fingertips from loving me so roughly last night, I would’ve doubted what was real.
I swallowed hard.
It’s only a trick.
It’s what needs to happen.
It was us against them now. This was the biggest secret of all.
My attention dropped to what he held in his left hand.
The Tally Box.
The room had been fairly silent since I entered, but now hushed anticipation filled the space.
“Glad to see you remembered,” Cut said, taking a sip of his coffee.
Jethro nodded at his father, pulling out a chair for me. “Sit, Ms. Weaver. There’s something we need to do.”
Unable to hide my flinch from bending sore joints, I settled into the offered chair.