He was right.
Time to stop fighting and become my father’s son.
Once and for fucking all.
Chapter Seventeen
Nila
TWO WEEKS PASSED.
Fourteen days where I didn’t see a hint of Jethro.
Where he’d gone and why was a mystery, and I’d like to say I didn’t care.
But...I’d never been a good liar.
No matter the itch of curiosity, I continued to live and didn’t let his disappearance undermine my resolve.
I didn’t mope in my room. I formulated my attack plan and executed it.
The first three days were hell. My back cracked and bled whenever I moved. I stayed confined to my bed with only the ceiling for entertainment and food delivered by softly smiling maids.
I craved my phone. I missed the freedom of conversing with the outside world.
By the fourth day, I risked a shower and unwound the bandage from my back to twist and stare in the mirror.
As much as the pain crippled me, my skin had knitted together and scabbed nicely. The shallower cuts were nothing more than a pink mark. And the deeper wounds were well on the road to recovery.
I would always bear the scars. A new wardrobe of silver lashes marking me firmly with ancient scandals. However, the body was a miraculous thing—healing itself from crimes of hate and unpayable debts.
I just hope my soul is as curable.
The hot water had killed to begin with, but slowly I grew used to the pain and washed away the whipping and turbulence Jethro had leftme with.
On the fifth day, I dressed in a floaty black dress that had no elastic or grabby material that would irritate my back and stepped from my room. I had cabin fever, and as much as I didn’t want company, I needed a change of scenery.
Drifting toward the dining room, I jumped whenever I heard the slightest noise. I felt guilty for wandering, even though I’d been told I could. And as much as I wanted to see Jethro, to demand my phone was returned, I didn’t have the strength to fight with him yet.
It was well past breakfast, which was fine because I’d had mine in bed, and there were no Black Diamond men around.
Where is everyone?
Hawksridge Hall had an eerie way of hiding people from view. The huge spaces making it seem as if I were all alone. I might not want to suffer through Jethro’s company, but his younger brother wasn’t blacklisted.
Turning down the corridor leading to Kes’s quarters, I found him with four men discussing some sort of strategy at the large table in the saloon.
The moment I entered, Kes’s golden eyes lit up. He bounced from his chair and came to offer his hand, tugging me closer to the bikers. “Nila. What a pleasant surprise.” His gaze went to my back, spinning me around a little to see. The lash marks were on display, having left the bandage off to help with healing. My dress was a scoop back, permitting my flesh to breathe.
“Ouch. I’d heard he hadn’t held back.”
“You heard?” I frowned. “He told you what happened?”
Kes swallowed, running a hand nervously through his hair. “Um, not quite. Anyway, that’s beside the point. I’m just glad you’re well and on the mend.” Grabbing my elbow, he carted me closer to the table and beaming men. “You know Flaw.”
I nodded briefly at the black-haired man who moved like Vaughn, before inspecting the two other accomplices—one with dirty blond hair, the other with long brown hair in a ponytail down his back. “That’s Grade and Colour.”
What the hell sort of names are those?
