Fuck her.
Ruin her in my own way.
Anything to stop you from touching what’s mine.
My father pursed his lips, pointing at the doors. “Out. I won’t ask again.”
The Diamond brothers stood up, their chairs sliding over thick carpet, before disappearing out the door in creaking leather and boots.
Daniel, Kes, and I didn’t move.
Nila stood locked in place.
Cut raised his eyebrow. “I believe I just gave an order?”
“What? All of us?” Kestrel asked, disbelief in his voice.
Cut didn’t reply, only glowered until the power of his rank, and the fact he was not only our father but our president, overrode our rebellion.
My brothers stood.
I gritted my teeth as Kes placed a hand on Nila’s shoulder, sharing a look with her that made my stomach fucking shake off any pretence of ice and go nuclear with fury.
Nila smiled softly, standing and moving toward the exit.
“Not you, Ms. Weaver. You and I are going to have a little chat,” Cut said quietly.
Nila closed her eyes briefly, blocking her panic. When she opened them again, all that remained was reckless confidence.
I wanted to say something, but my tongue tied into a useless piece of meat.
“Out, Jethro. I won’t ask again.”
Nodding once at my father, I moved stiffly. Nila refused to meet my eyes as I stalked out of the room, following my two siblings.
The last thing I heard as the doors closed was my father’s voice. “Now that we’re alone, my dear, I have something I want to share with you.”
Chapter Eleven
Nila
I COULDN’T MOVE.
My knees locked against buckling. My heart thundered from fighting with Jethro. I hated myself formissinghim. The instant the door closed behind him, I couldn’t stop the overwhelming urge to follow.
It’s because you think you understand him enough to predict his next atrocity.
I supposed that was right. Locked in a room with the man who killed my mother was a lot worse than being with the son I began to see as more than just a cold piece of ice.
“Sit, Nila.” Mr. Hawk smiled from the head of the table. I was grateful he didn’t come toward me or request that I go to him. But it did nothing to stop fear, repulsion, and rage from saturating my heart.
Pouring himself some orange juice from the carafe beside him, he muttered, “You have such a low opinion of us.”
Slowly, I sank back into my chair. Gripping the lip of the table, I forced myself to stay calm and ready to fight. “What do you expect? You stole me then let your menlickme.”
“Did they hurt you?”
His question hung heavy between us.
