The moment the connection synced, the device went bonkers in my hands.
Messages flew into my inbox. Missed calls. Emails.
The emails I ignored: my assistant and designers. Requests for more patterns. Deposits from successful bidders on the collection from Milan.
None of that mattered—not anymore. The freedom I felt at ignoring the pressure of my career shouldn’t please me so much.
Three messages from my father glowed on the screen.
My heart lurched, but I neglected them. I wasn’t ready to deal with him. The mixture of despair and betrayal had yet to be unbraided and understood. For now, I needed some space.
I clicked on the latest message, sent early last night.
VtheMan:Nila. Fucking call me.
Vaughn’s message reeked of desperation.
My heart hurt to think of him missing me. I couldn’t stomach his loneliness or confusion. I shouldn’t have rejected him. It was unfair, and I couldn’t do it anymore.
Jethro could jump off a bridge, telling me not to contact my twin and best friend. V needed me.
Needle&Thread:V, I’m fine. I’m so sorry I made you worry. I don’t know how much Dad has told you, but I’m alive and doing everything I can to come home. Please know that I love you, and I wouldn’t have gone if I didn’t have reason to.
I pressed send.
A reason like trying to keep you alive.
The melancholy from thinking about my brother threatened to sink my newfound hope. Quickly, I opened the messages I’d been eager to read since my battery died.
Kite007:Had a pretty fantastic daydream about you, Needle. You let me tie you up and spank the living daylights out of you. Tell me...does that make you wet, ‘cause it sure as fuck makes me hard.
The familiar tug in my core was happiness on this bleak day. So much had changed but not this. Not him.
Careful, Nila.
I paused, tracing the keys with worry. Kite was the one constant in this mess. The only one not involved in some way or another. He wasn’t a Hawk. He wasn’t a Weaver. He was neutral territory where I wanted to camp and never leave.
Youthinkhe’s not a Hawk.
The sudden thought stopped me, sucking up my oxygen with terror.
What?
My mind skipped back to the luncheon. To the strange connection I’d shared with the brother whose golden eyes weren’t cold or full of malice but playful. My heart raced, recalling the inexplicable kinship we’d shared—no matter how brief.
He looked at me as if heknewme.
Kestrel.
I dropped the phone.
Could it be?
Shaking, I picked up the device and typed a response.
Needle&Thread:I had a similar daydream. You spanked me in the woods with a whip. You kneeled behind me and struck just enough to burn but not bite. I’d never been hit before, but you...you made it seem all right.
Send.
