He chuckled. “You don’t have a clue, do you? You think you’re in charge. You’re not. I know the way your family’s wealth moves. Bonnie is the one with full jurisdiction and she’s the one I work for. You have no money—it’s controlled by your tiny grandmother, and I bet that pisses you the fuck off.”
I clenched my jaw. “She’s old. How much longer do you think she’ll last?”
Marquise shrugged. “Alive or dead, it doesn’t matter. I’m written into her Will. Loyalty is what she bought and loyalty is what she’ll get.” His eyes dropped to his phone. “Now shut the fuck up and prepare yourself for all the fun we’ll have.”
I fell silent. Not because he told me to, but because my energy levels were dangerously low. I had to be smart. I had to find a way out of this godforsaken crypt before it was too late.
Something shuddered above us. A sprinkling of dirt shivered from the ceiling, merging with the dirt below. I twisted, looking up, squinting as another dusting landed on my face.
What the—
Then a boom sounded. Low and echoing and terrifying.
Shit!
An explosion or cave-in.
When I was young, Cut had brought Kes and me to visit for the first time. I’d rather liked the oppressive tunnels. The thickness of earth and loneliness so far beneath sunlight appealed to my chaotic, oversensitive brain. But I’d explored too far. I’d got lost.
I’d tried to find my way out, only to crawl and get trapped in an unused part of the mine. A section of wall had caved in, partially blocking my exit. Luckily, a worker had come to reinforce pretty quickly and found me.
I’d laughed off the experience and Kes had used my tale as a fascinating story of diamond warfare, but I never forgot the instantaneous terror at being buried alive.
Another reverberation travelled through the walls and floor, shivering like a beast waking up.
Marquise shot upright, his phone clutched in his hand. “What the fuck was that?”
That isn’t normal.
The mine was sturdy, despite its ancient age. The rarity of a continual yield in diamonds after so long was another reason why the shafts and cylindrical passageways were well maintained. No one wanted to destroy a never-ending wealth creator, especially after centuries of collecting.
I flinched as another curtain of soil landed over my tied-up form.
Marquise charged toward the door. We humans were alike in that respect. We craved oxygen and sunlight. Put us underwater and claustrophobia could kill you better than any shark. Put us underground and fear could drive you insane.
My heart charged out of control as another smaller cannonade sounded.
Fuck.
If Marquise didn’t kill me on Cut’s behalf, it looked like Almasi Kipanga would.
The mine shouldn’t behave in such a way. The tunnels dived deeper and deeper as the years went on, but the workers knew how to reinforce. Their lives were on the line. They didn’t cut corners.
Yet another boom. Louder. Stronger. Closer.
The cave walls trembled, scattering earth over the table and medical supplies Cut had used.
I raised my eyes, fearing cracks and sudden crashing of rock and earth.
“Fuck this shit.” Marquise grabbed the handle and wrenched open the door.
Armageddon broke out.
Gunfire.
It ricocheted into the room with a sudden spray of bullets. Flashbacks of Jeep metal crumpling and crash landings swarmed my mind. I pressed my face into the ground, curling up the best I could while tied to the chair.
What the hell—
Whizzing bullets and the dull thud of their pockmarked landing ratcheted my heart rate until I inhaled dirt from the floor. Terror lacerated my blood, setting up residence in my pounding head.
My system had a healthy dose of fear when it came to lead projectiles. When Cut shot me, I’d reacted instinctually. I wasn’t thinking about pain or death but saving my sister’s life. I didn’t know how it would feel. But now I knew what happened to a body in the path of a mortally wounding weapon.
It fucking hurts.
I didn’t want a repeat.
Fighting the ropes to protect myself, I couldn’t stop my mind doing a mental cleanse, saying goodbye to everyone and everything I ever loved.
Nila.
Jasmine.
Kestrel.
Even Wings.
My life story flickered pitifully lacking and empty of experience.
And then…it was over.
As suddenly as the gunfire began, it ceased.
The silence was almost as deafening as the shots.
A howl replaced the bullets, growing in decibels as the seconds ticked on.
I looked up.
Marquise.
He lay on his back, his hands glued to his chest where multiple red spots bloomed on his t-shirt. I couldn’t unravel what’d happened. It was just us in the room. No one entered. No more firing.
I looked at the open door. The wooden frame had dings and splinters from a spray of firepower, but the exit remained empty. Within the depth of the mine, feet pounded, guns erupted, and the sounds of a battle exploded out of nowhere.
What the fuck is going on?
Marquise’s howls slowly turned into moans. The soil beneath him accepted his blood like a tree accepts fresh rain, sucking it deep into the ground.
I put up a blockade between him and me. I didn’t like the guy, but couldn’t help sharing his pain as he died in front of me. Death was private, and I had no intention of participating in his final moments.
Somewhere in the mine, a war had broken out. I didn’t know who was on what side. I didn’t know if it would work in my favour. But I did know I’d been granted a second chance; I wouldn’t waste it.
Kicking, I somehow managed to rock sideways, propping myself awkwardly on a fulcrum of brittle chair leg. My shoulders sagged in relief, but the way I repositioned put immense pressure on my chest and ribs from the ropes.
I couldn’t suck in a deep breath as I jerked and twisted. The chair cracked and groaned, fighting against my encouragement to break.
Footsteps suddenly sounded closer, scuffing pebbles and belying numbers.
I froze.
Sweat dripped off the end of my nose as I squirmed harder. If they were new enemies, I couldn’t be there still fucking tied up when they—
They entered the cave.
Five men poured inside, blocking the exit. Their dark skin sucked the meagre light from the lamps, the whites of their eyes hell-bent and focused. The rifles in their hands were old but still capable of murder.
I glowered, drinking in their warrior thoughts and violence. One of the men moved forward, scuffing the blood-soaked dirt where Marquise lay.
Marquise erupted to life, pulling a pistol from his pocket and firing. His aim struck one of the men in the heart.
No!
Everything happened at warp speed. More workers poured through the door, launching themselves at the mountain of muscle, swatting his pistol, slamming his hands onto the floor.
He hollered like a beast attacked by insects, but in sheer numbers, he was overwhelmed.
Another man entered, this one wearing the patch of manager on his dirty t-shirt. He was older, more Cut’s age, and full of authority as he stood over Marquise. Without flinching, he hacked at his neck with a machete.
One moment, Marquise was alive, keeping me from Nila. The next, he was gone to the underworld. Gruesome to witness but humane to put him out of his misery. He was a dead man already…this way…the pain had gone—even if he didn’t deserve such compassion.
Bonnie will need to buy someone else’s loyalty.
If she survived what I would do to her when I returned home, of course.
If I return home.
A man moved toward me. My muscles stiffened as he cocked his head. Up close, he appeared younger. His skin unblemished and pupils as dark as his skin. Without a word, he went behind me.
I
swallowed hard, waiting for a knife to slice my throat or a bullet to lodge in my brain.
The swish of a blade being drawn from a scabbard set my heart racing but then the pressure around my chest suddenly vanished.
I toppled sideways, freed from the chair, ropes trailing after me. The sawn ends landed on the floor like decapitated snakes. The moment the chair no longer held me captive, the young man grabbed my wrists and sawed through the remaining twine.
I couldn’t understand…why?
Why had they done this?
The man helped push me into a sitting position. My head thundered with pain, but I blinked and stretched my spine. It felt amazing to sit up and roll my back without stiff wood holding me in place. My ribs complained and the wooziness of my vision didn’t help, but I could move, I could breathe, I could survive.
Pearly white teeth, almost as bright as diamonds, appeared in the gloom. He smiled, speaking rapidly in Afrikaans.
My memory of their language was rusty, but I let my condition and the few remaining words I recalled give me a hint of what he said: We save for you save.
It made no sense.
The worker who’d cut me free gave me a hand. Without hesitating, I clasped fists, staggering to my feet. I stumbled sideways, finding yet more injuries now I stood upright. My right kneecap ached and a large bump on my thigh swelled with a new bruise.
The weakness from lack of rest and nutrition caught up with me as the room spun.
Holding my elbow, the worker didn’t say a word as I blinked and forced myself to be stronger.
Pushing the help away, I brushed off damp mud from my clothing with shaking hands. The movement helped remind my body how to react, fresh energy filtered, and the pain faded a little. Looking up, I glanced at the men all watching me. “I don’t understand.”
The manager came forward. His once white shirt was now stained a rusty ore from digging all his life. His skin glistened while his eyes shone with vengeance. His hand shook around the machete—still glistening with Marquise’s blood—as he raised it to my heart. In English, he repeated, “We saved you so you could save us.” His blade wobbled as he breathed hard. “We’ve taken care of the guards. We’re in control of the mine now. We thank Kestrel Hawk for his help, but the guards obey the bossman’s orders and our conditions are no better.”
Temper strained his voice. “We have had enough of being treated like slaves. Tonight we rise. So answer me honestly, diamond son, or share their fate.” His weapon shook as he pointed at Marquise and back to me. “Are you like them? Or are we right in thinking you are not like your family?”
I rubbed my face, forcing myself to focus on conversation not bodily pain. All Kes’s work here had been for nothing? Had none of his generosity and deals behind Cut’s back been delivered?
Injustice for our men and my brother’s cause pissed me off. “You’re asking if I’m not a Hawk?”
He shook his head. “No, we’re asking if you’re like them.”
I didn’t move. “Why? Why ask this now?”
The young man who’d freed me said, “We saw you.”
My eyes landed on Marquise’s corpse, unable to look away from the gash in his neck from the sword. “Saw what?”
“Saw you drag your brother’s body and the lions take it. You killed your own flesh and blood.”
Fuck.
I froze.
I didn’t think now was the time to mention Nila had killed him. I’d just helped tidy up.
The manager moved closer, his fingers tightening around his blade. “You killed him because you don’t agree with his practices, yes?”
I frowned, trying to keep up. How long had they hated my family? How long had they waited to overthrow us? My heart thundered with their combined hurt and hope. They’d killed in order for me to help them.
We were on the same path.
Bracing myself, I banished myself from my family, vanquishing any relation. I let myself be true with the men who’d saved my life. “No, I don’t agree with his practices. If I’m honest, I never did.”
“We can tell.” The manager smiled. “We watched you while you were younger. You are not like them.”
He didn’t know he’d just given me a compliment I would always remember. All my life, I hated the fact I wasn’t like my family, that I was an outcast, a disappointment. But now…now, I couldn’t be more fucking thankful.
It just saved my life.
I pressed a fist over my heart. “I’m forever in your debt.”
Debt.
Indebted.
It seemed Nila wasn’t indebted any more, but I was. A Hawk owing a debt. I rather liked the responsibility of paying them back after something so unforgettable.
The manager lowered his machete. “You’ll help us?”
I nodded. “I give you my word.”
He grunted under his breath. “Good.”
“I promise I’ll change everything you are not happy with. But first…I really need to go after my father. I need to save—”
“The woman. Yes. I know.” The manager sidestepped, waving at the exit. “A Jeep is waiting at the top of the mine. The driver will take you to the airport.”
I couldn’t stop the swell of gratitude. Moving toward the ziplock bag Cut had left behind after loading up Nila’s cast with as many diamonds as he could fit, I scooped out a handful, stuffed them into my dirty jeans, and handed him the remains.
Inside rested countless jewels to be included in the next shipment. Hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of stones. “Please, call me Kite. Spread this out amongst your men. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve controlled the situation at home.”
He grinned, taking the diamonds. “Thank you, boss.”
I shook my head. “No, thank you.”
Moving a few paces, my legs argued and my gunshot wound protested, but I had bigger things to worry about.
I had to get home.
I had to fly.
Looking one last time at the manager and workers who had changed my future, I stalked from the room as smoothly as I could. I ignored my headache. I dismissed the pains and discomfort in my muscles. I charged through the earthen labyrinth and exploded outside.
Fresh air.
New beginning.
Blinding hope.
This is it.
This was my true inheritance.
I’d earned the loyalty of men by remaining true to who I was.
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.
“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.
He was 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 adrenalin
e 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 the grand foyer of the Hall, where Jethro and I had guided the Vanity Fair interviewers for our photo session in the grove.
Her skirts hung regally, her chin tilted just so, offering a royal welcome.
“I’d like to know that, too.” Cut gave her another peck. “Hello, mother.” Turning to face me, he growled, “Nila knows something. She’s not talking currently, but she will. Have no doubt about that.”
I gulped as Bonnie turned frigid. “I see.” Shuffling forward, her eyes landed on my cast. “Despite that blip of bad news, I understand the Fourth Debt went okay.”
Cut nodded. “Yes. No one suspected.” Marching toward me, he grabbed my good wrist and yanked me toward Bonnie. “I’ll leave you to remove the cast and retrieve the merchandise. I have to attend to something.” His eyes glittered, filling with secrets. “Ask me what I have to attend to, Nila.”
I clamped my lips together. I didn’t need to ask. He’d threatened me for too long.
The Final Debt.
There would be no more dallying or delays.
No more reprieves or hope things could end differently.
I’m not going down without a war.
Fisting my hair, he kissed my cheek. “I have an old friend to dust off and prepare for its latest victim. You have a date in the ballroom tomorrow, my dear.”
“Tomorrow?”
My heart splintered. Was this how prisoners felt on death row? Having a date for their execution? Wishing for more time all while begging it to slow?