Instantly, Cut shed his pompous strictness of emperor of our estate and become a terrified parent instead.
He rushed to release my binds, not caring I crunched into the dirt once he’d loosened the leather. Once, I was free, he scooped up Jasmine and darted toward the exit.
“We’ll go to the hospital, Jazzy. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
All he cared about was fixing what he’d done.
But I didn’t let him get far.
I snapped.
I became like him. I craved his pain after what he’d done to my baby sister.
I wasn’t proud of what I’d done. My hands trembled as the video-tape showed a devil-child leap onto his father’s back and beat him over and over and over again with the club he’d used on Jasmine.
I stared transfixed as the tape continued, transforming me from abused to abuser as Cut fell on the floor, covering his face and hands.
I could’ve killed him that day and I would've if Jasmine hadn’t screamed for me to stop.
Hearing her terror wrenched me from the blood cloud I’d swam in, putting her first rather than making my father pay.
I’d scooped her in my arms and charged to the Hall. I’d been the one to get Jasmine to the hospital all while Cut lay unconscious in the barn.
“Turn it off.” Cut closed his eyes, cringing against the scratchy noises of the recording.
I couldn’t breathe properly as I fumbled with the machine and switched it from memory card to fresh start.
Neither of us mentioned what we’d just seen or the past feelings of the incident. We knew who’d won that night and as a kid I’d expected harsh retribution. But Cut hadn’t punished me. He’d pretended nothing had happened even while bruises marked his skin. He’d continued with my lessons but didn’t hurt me any more than normal.
It was as if he wanted to be hurt for what he’d done to Jaz.
Clearing my throat, I held up the lens and pointed it at Cut.
The screen bounced in my hold, but it would have to do.
This was my insurance policy.
Cut understood immediately and dropped his head to the notepad I’d tossed in his lap. He fortified himself from our strained relationship and read my scrawled writing—for Jasmine and Kes and future heirs of Hawksridge Hall.
Occasionally, he looked up, reciting his pledge while staring into the camera. More often than not, his eyes remained downcast, reading his Last Will and Testament quickly.
My hands only shook harder the closer he got to finishing. My fever fogged my eyesight, and his voice threatened to put me in a trance.
I needed to rest and fast.
Finally, he finished.
Once his declaration was verbalized, I turned off the camera and placed it beside me for safe-keeping.
I looked at the same speck he stared at, unable to move forward but knowing I had no choice. “Thank you. Not for me, but for Jaz and the workers we employ. You’ve kept them in their homes and jobs.”
A thought pricked me.
I’d planned on dismantling the diamond smuggling ring once Cut was dead, but his unselfish act of preserving the company and giving back my birthright reminded me it wasn’t a matter of shutting down something justbecause I wanted to. We had people relying on us. I had to do right by them. I couldn’t steal their livelihoods.
“Take care of those you love, Jethro.” Cut coughed. “Don’t ever let corruption turn you into me.”
His words said one thing, but his heart another. He’d done what he’d been taught. But now, he wanted to go. He wanted the pain to stop, and I wouldn’t deny him that.
