Now, I would make the world a better place and end those who didn’t deserve to survive.
A worker beamed, revving a Jeep with the Hawk crest on the side as he waited for me to climb inside.
The moment my door slammed shut, we tore off toward the airport.
Chapter Twenty
Nila
“AH, SON, I’M so glad you’re home.”
My eyes wrenched upward as Cut threw me inside Hawksridge Hall.
Bonnie.
She stood with prideful smugness as I stumbled over the threshold.
A Black Diamond member had collected us from the airport. Cut hadn’t said a word to me on the drive back, preferring to type furiously on his phone the entire journey home.
Home?
Hawksridge was never home.
Not without Jethro.
Hewas my home.
I hugged my cast harder, trying to push away the fears of Jethro's safety. I had double terror now I was back in the one place that would steal my life.
How many breaths did I have left?
How many heartbeats and moments?
Bonnie inched forward, leaning heavier than normal on her walking stick. When I first arrived, she’d refused to use her stick, moving around without any aid. Now, she seemed to have aged decades in the months I’d been her prisoner.
I smiled slightly. The trouble I’d caused had withered her—trading her youth for my longevity.
If I died, at least she wouldn’t be far behind me.
My fingers curled with defiance, activating the break in my arm. It’d taken almost an hour for the adrenaline to leave my system after dealing with airport security. I’d burned off what food I’d eaten on the plane and felt shaky and sick.
However, there was one silver lining to being back in the rat’s nest.
We’d returned to Hawksridge minus a Hawk.
Daniel.
His body was now lion shit turning to dust on an African plain.
Was that what Cut was emailing about? Trying to find his wayward son?
I’d been surprised Cut left without waiting for news of him. Leaving his offspring behind seemed callous, but I supposed he’d done worse. What was a departure without a note in the scheme of what he’d committed?
Bonnie seemed to sense my thoughts. Her hazel eyes narrowed on me. “Where is my grandson?”
Cut stormed forward, pecking his mother on her cheek. She stood in thegrand foyer of the Hall, where Jethro and I had guided theVanity Fairinterviewers for our photo session in the grove.
Her skirts hung regally, her chin tilted just so, offering a royal welcome.
