His hands fisted.
“You know what; I’m done.” Shaking my head, I brushed past him into the corridor. “Just take me to them like a good minion and get out of my sight.”
He growled under his breath. “Don’t judge me. Don’t judge my actions based on what you can’t see.” Stomping in front of me, he said over his shoulder, “I know who I am, and I know what I do is right.”
Animosity flared between us.
I stayed silent, following him down the corridor toward the wing where I’d spent most time with Kestrel. We passed the room where he’d given me the Weaver Journal and headed into the hall where the library was located. My mind flickered back to the afternoon he’d found me, asking if Jethro had been to see me since completing the First Debt.
At the time, his question wasn’t too unusual. But now it took on a whole new meaning. He wasn’t asking about me. He’d been asking about his brother—keen to know how absorbing my pain had affected his empathetic sibling.
God, how bad had Jethro felt? How much did my thoughts destroy him?
“In there.” Flaw stopped outside the library.
So many memories were already stored in this place. So many breakthroughs and breakdowns as I grew from girl to woman.
Not making eye contact, he muttered, “They’re waiting for you. Better getinside.” Without a goodbye, he turned on his heel and left.
His retreating back upset me all over again. He was the last connection I had to Kestrel’s kindness and to Jethro’s ultimate plans.
Come back.
My soul scrunched tight as the ghosts of Jethro and Kes haunted the walls of their home. In twenty-four hours, I’d gone through the cycles of bereavement: disbelief, shock, despair, rage...I doubted I’d ever get through acceptance, but I embraced my anger, building a barrier that only clearheaded, cold-hearted fury could enter.
I didn’t want any other emotion when facing Cut and Daniel.
Touching the dagger hilt, I straightened my shoulders and pushed open the library doors.
My eyes widened as I stepped into the old world charm of book-bindings and scripted letters. The large beanbags where Kes had found me dozing still scattered. The window seats waited for morning sunshine and a bookworm to absorb themselves in fairy-tale pages.
This place was a church of stories and imagination. But then my gaze fell on the antichrist, polluting the sanctity of peace.
“Nice of you to join us, Nila.” Cut waved at the one and only empty chair at the large oak table.
My teeth clamped together. I didn’t reply.
“Come.” He snapped his fingers. “Sit. We’ve waited long enough.”
You can do this.
Obey until an opportunity presents itself.
Then...
kill
him.
I drifted forward, drawn by the multiple pairs of eyes watching me.
Bonnie, Daniel, Jasmine, Cut, and four men I didn’t recognise waited for me to join them. The four men wore sombre black suits and aubergine ties—a uniform painting them with the same brush.
I drew closer to the table.
Daniel stood up, wrapping a vile arm around my waist. “Missed you, Weaver.” Planting a kiss on my cheek, he whispered, “Whatever happens here tonight doesn’t mean shit, you hear me? I’m coming for you, and I don’t fucking care what they say.”
I shuddered with disgust.
