I should’ve known a man like me would never be worthy of such a gift. I should’ve known that death was around the corner. I should’ve seen the devil rubbing his hands together, waiting.
I didn’t deserve peace or togetherness or a future I wanted more than fucking anything.
There was nothing good left for me.
Only death.
No matter that I’d lived my entire life beneath death’s shadow, no matter that I’d expected it around every trial, and feared it every time I closed my eyes to sleep, I still wasn’t prepared for when it finally came for me.
It was quick.
It was painful.
It was over.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Nila
I’M SO LUCKY.
I looked over the balcony. Below me, bright lights and camera flashes immortalized my newest collection. The grey dress I’d made before paying the Third Debt caused a standing ovation among critics and fashionistas alike.
“You did so well, wife.”
I swayed into my husband’s arms. Jethro’s hair caught the lights, making him seem like some fantasy knight come to life. We’d eloped two weeks ago. We’d barely left the bedroom since.
My pussy clenched just thinking about what we would do when we returned home after the show.
Something cold and sticky splashed against my silver ball gown. Time turned to slow motion as I looked down in horror.
Blood.
Gallons upon gallons of blood.
It stained my bodice, train, hands...everything.
The audience below no longer watched the show but looked up at us. At me specifically. “What?” I screeched. “What did I ever do to you?”
Then, I heard the most dreadful sound in the world. The symphony of dying. The excruciating noise of ending life.
“Get up, you filthy fucking whore!”
My eyes wrenched open. My heart lurched into my mouth. Warmth and cocooned-safety was traded for biting fingers and hard floor as Cut wrenched me out of bed and threw me across the room.
“Wh—no!” I landed on my wrist, screaming in agony.
“What the—” Jethro's sleepy voice rang out but was sliced short by a punch to his face.
“You motherfucking backstabbing son of a fucking bitch.” Cut rammed his fist into Jethro’s jaw again, drawing blood, crunching cheekbones. “Get up.” He tore off the sheets, jerking him from his bed.
Jethro groaned, falling into a pile of limbs at his father’s feet.
“No, wait!” I crawled forward, flinching at my wrist.
Daniel appeared, blocking me with his hands on his hips. “Ah, ah, ah, little Weaver. You can no longer interfere with family matters.”
Through the barricade of his legs, I watched Cut kick Jethro repeatedly in the stomach, screaming obscenities, puce with fury. “Did I not give you everyfucking chance? Did I not respect you and trust in you as my fucking son!” He kicked him again. “Goddammit, you leave me no choice!”
