Rolling away, Daniel kicked him right in the jaw.
V crumpled.
My heart shattered. “No!”
“What onearthis the kerfuffle in here?” a prim, papery voice said.
All eyes turned on the recent addition to the parlour.
Bonnie Hawk.
Her attention surveyed her son, grandsons, and me before smiling coldly. Leaning heavily on a brand new walking stick, she snapped her fingers. “Jasmine. Kestrel. Would you come and join us, please?”
The sudden madness seemed to cease—her appearance granted a strange kind of peace to the battleground. She acted as if we’d all popped by for tea and cakes, completely ignoring or not caring that blood stained the pristine carpet and my brother was unconscious at her feet.
My heart stuck in tar as Jasmine rolled sedately into the room. Her bronze eyes hid her terror, but her face couldn’t hide her dislike. She didn’t look away from Jethro.
Jethro looked back at his sister, hanging his head in shame.
Kestrel came into the room, his hands tied behind his back, his face a mismatch of purple, black, and blue.
He gave me a sad smile, flicking his attention between Jethro, V, and hisfather.
“Glad you could join us,” Cut snarled, glaring at his offspring.
Jasmine sat taller in her chair, her pink angora jumper matching the deep rose of the blanket thrown over her legs. “Father, don’t do this. Think about what this will—”
“He knows the consequences, child,” Bonnie interrupted. “And he’s accepted the payment as a necessary sacrifice.” Her matching skirt and blazer were black, as if she were already in mourning. A string of pearls graced her throat, bobbing with every swallow. Her eyes landed on Cut. “It’s your decision, son.”
Cut nodded, getting his temper under control, slipping back into a ruthless, terrifying man with far too much power.
I trembled, trying to work out the dynamics in the room.
What is going on?
No answers came, and in a seamless move, Cut reached behind him and pulled free a pistol.
My heart stopped.
I stood transfixed in the centre, stuck between Jethro and Vaughn. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t decide who was the most at risk of a madman waving a gun.
“Help him up, will you, Daniel?” Cut pointed the muzzle at Jethro.
I blinked back another vertigo spell as I darted forward. “No!”
Cut trained the gun on me. “Do not move, Ms. Weaver.”
Daniel obeyed, grabbing Jethro under his arms, yanking him upright. The moment he was on his feet, Jethro bent forward, looking like he would throw up or pass out. Sweat darkened his hair, his naked thighs bunched with effort to remain standing. He looked so defenceless in a t-shirt and boxer-briefs—clear evidence that we’d broken every rule and slept together.
Cut cocked the weapon, glaring at his son. “I’m going to give you one last choice, Jethro.”
Jethro shook his head, smacking his lips. “No more choices. Just kill me and let the Weavers go.” His eyes flickered to my unconscious brother. “Bothof them.”
Daniel snickered—completely in his element. Bonnie just watched while Jasmine and Kes remained mute with nerves.
No one spoke. No one wanted to bring attention to themselves while Cut wielded a gun.
“One more choice,” Cut repeated. “You better choose wisely.” Planting his stance in the thick carpet, he raised the weapon.
