I froze, gripping the soft leather armrests. “Botswana?”
Africa.
I’d be unprotected and unprepared in the middle of a lion and hyena-infested countryside, captured by men who were worse than the wildlife.
Daniel had told me in the corridor, but I hadn’t calculated the ramifications. Now I was on a plane about to take off—about to leaveEngland. My motherland. My safe zone.
Oh, my God. How will Jethro get to me in time?
He wasn’t fully healed. He needed to put whatever plan he’d organised into action. Even if Jasmine got word to him, he would still be too late to help.
I’m on my own.
My fingers fiddled with the pocket of the hoodie I’d slipped on before Daniel stole me from my quarters. A long knitting needle rested unseen. The needle wasn’t flimsy or weak. Single pointed, metal construction, approximately thirty-five centimetres long. If my hoodie hadn’t had a big front pocket, I wouldn’t have been able to conceal it.
I wasn’t much of a knitter—preferring to sew rather than deal with yarn and wool, but on this occasion, it’d become my most favourite implement.
Please, let it be enough.
I didn’t have bullets or blades, but I did have my namesake. Hadn’t I promised I would become a needle rather than thread? That I would be sharp, ruthless? Able to puncture and defeat?
The bubbling anger and capable fight returned, settling into my soul. I might be on my own, but I’d achieved a lot. I’d learned how to fight monsters and win.
So what I wouldn’t be in England?
I would make Africa my personal battleground.
Cut looked at me, a vicious smile on his lips. “Not just to Botswana, Nila. To the diamond mecca. To our mine.”
His words echoed Daniel’s from before.
Stroking the hidden needle, I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”
Cut laughed quietly, accepting a flute of champagne from a blonde-haired stewardess. “Why do you think?”
The captain cleared his throat. “If you don’t need me, sir, I’ll leave you to it.” With a quick salute, he disappeared into the cockpit, leaving Daniel to slink down the aisle and choose the seat behind me. Marquise kept going, not saying a word, just throbbing with sheer muscle.
The plane became a sardine can, imprisoning me with three men I despised.
“You want to tell her or shall I?” Cut glanced at Daniel.
Daniel leaned forward, fisting my newly cut hair. Every time I thought of the recently sliced strands, I froze with sadness then warmed with contentedness. Jethro had righted his brother’s wrongs. Fixing his family’s brutality with gentle soothing.
The new style only solidified my will to win. I would avenge. And my hair would grow back while they decomposed in their tombs.
I sat dead straight, vibrating with hatred as Daniel murmured, “I told you already, Weaver. It’s time for a few catch-ups. You still owe us for the ThirdDebt. You still owe us for the Fourth Debt. And once your debts are paid, there’s the matter of the Final Debt to call it even.” He laughed, running his monstrous fingers over my scalp. “It’s extremely convenient that the rest of the Fourth Debt takes place away from the estate. Not just for the change of scenery but so my fucking sister stops meddling.”
Pain burned where he held my hair.
Cut stroked the back of my hand. “Yes, Jasmine proved she’s strong and got her way with the new laws for the inheritance, but my dear daughter and her high and mighty morals won’t be welcome where we’re going.”
My voice reigned with righteousness. “She’ll never forgive you for what you’ve done.”
Cut cocked his head. “What makes you think she has a choice? We’re family. All sins are forgivable by those who share the same blood.”
I choked on a laugh. “Seriously? You truly think that?”
“I don’tthinkthat. Iknowthat. Families stick together. That’s why our business has done so well. Why we rose above you and ensured centuries of retribution.” His touch on my hand flew up to tap against my diamond collar. “Ever wondered about the story behind the Weaver Wailer? Ever stopped to think how it was created?”
