“Welcome to our office.” Daniel opened the door once the Jeep wrenched to a halt. His fingers pressed on my seatbelt, freeing me, then wrapped around my wrist and yanked me from the seat. I slid out the door, stumbling a little as my legs woke up after being useless from sitting so long.
“Where are we?” I stretched, working out the kinks in my spine while my eyes danced over the camp. A congregation of shipping containers had been converted into offices, wooden shacks with thatched roofs decorated the outskirts, and trodden muddy paths spoke of hardship and toil. The moon offered some illumination, competing against the watery lights strung in bushes and the brighter warmth of electricity spilling from dwellings.
If I didn’t know who this place belonged to, it might’ve welcomed. I might’ve relished the thought of being in Africa for the first time. Going on a safari and witnessing the creatures I was afraid of, all from the safety of an organised tour.
Instead, all I wanted to do was run—to scale the fence barricading us and take my chances with the sharp-toothed lions prowling the boundaries.
At least I knew what they would do to me.
“Are you deaf or just fucking dumb?” Daniel wafted at the site as if it held every answer. “This is ground zero. The place where the first diamond was found. The place where your family’s future became shadowed by mine.” Tightening his cruel fingers around my wrist, he marched me through the encampment.
I guessed about thirty to forty shacks and canvas tents decorated the space while seven or so containers oversaw whatever work they undertook. The surrounding fence was patched like an old quilt—wood recently replaced andother wood that needed to be. Everything was sun-scorched and dust-sprinkled.
But it held a wild vibe. A homey vibe.
Somehow, the people who lived here had made the most of what they had and transformed it into more than just a mine but a sanctuary.
Out the corner of my eye, I saw something I didn’t think I would ever witness.
Daniel seemed to...relax.
His shoulders smoothed out. The feral desire to be seen and noticed calmed. The insanity inside him muted by the freedom he found here. Perhaps, he wasn’t just a psychopath, after all. Perhaps, I’d misjudged when I called him one-dimensional.
Just like I’d broken Jethro by using his lust for me and Kes’s kindness to become my ally, I tried to do the same with Daniel. “You like it here.”
His eyes snapped to mine. “Shut up, Weaver.”
“No. I want to know. You’ve got me all to yourself, Daniel. Cut said I could ask anything I want. Alright then, my first question is about you.”
His mouth hung open as if he couldn’t believe I’d just willingly entered into a conversation with him.
That’s right.
See me.
Hear me.
Feel me.
Then perhaps you won’t try and hurt me.
It was wishful thinking, but maybe, just maybe, it might payoff.
Just like it did with your brother.
“Is this some sort of trick?”
I shook my head. “No trick.” Pulling on his hold, I forced him to stop in the centre of the camp. A large fire pit charred the dirt while hacked up logs acted as seating. “You like it here. Why?”
His eyes darkened, but he answered. “Because it’s away from Hawksridge.”
“You don’t like that place?”
“I never fucking said that.” His temper smouldered.
I backtracked, trying to read between the lines. “You prefer this place over Hawksridge though...why?” Sudden understanding dawned. “Because you think of this place as yours and Hawksridge as Jethro's.”
His hand lashed out, wrapping around my collar. “Wrong, bitch. Hawksridge is mine. Jethro is dead. Remember? Shot. Cold and buried.”
