“No one—especially a Weaver—has the right to speak to me like that.” Mr. Hawk’s fingernails bit into my thigh. “What part are you not understanding, girl? We haven’t threatened your family—they are under observeillance to ensure their best behaviour. We didn’t steal you away—you came voluntarily, remember? And as for the collar—you should be proud to wear it. It’s the most treasured piece in the Hawks antiquities.”

I bit my lip as his fingernails pierced harder.

His voice dropped the scholarly softness, sliding into strictness. “I see you need more concrete evidence. Fine. The diamonds you wear are worth millions. The diamonds we’ve sourced have been used to trade, buy services, bribe officials, own prime ministers, even control diplomats and royalty. No one is above the allure of a flawless diamond, Ms. Weaver. Everyone has a price. Lucky for us, we can afford any price.”

His tone sharpened. “Does that answer your rude question?”

What response could I give? There was nothing I could say or do to ignore my entire situation. They might have some misplaced belief that they were in the right—but that didn’t matter. Because they owned the very people I would need to save me.

My shoulders dipped; I sighed.

Mr. Hawk grinned. “Glad you’re coming to your senses, girl. Don’t under estimate us, Nila Weaver. We’ve had the law on our side for hundreds of years. We still have the law on our side and that won’t change. You are nothing more than a single woman who left the world’s spotlight because she fell in love. You are already consumed and forgotten.”

His fingernails stopped slicing my leg; he patted me gently. “I apologise that my son didn’t inform you of this. It’s his job to be implicitly open with you. To ensure you accept your new standing quickly.” He threw a glare at Jethro behind us.

Jethro locked his jaw, his eyes unreadable.

Mr. Hawk bounced me on his knee. “Now, no more questions. Serve my Diamond brothers and earn your right to more information.”

My heart shot up my throat. “Serve them how?”

Mr. Hawk shook his head. “Ah, I just told you, no more questions. I have no doubt Jethro would’ve been rather firm on that instruction. Silence is the key to pleasing us.” He pinched my lips together. “Don’t say a word until we permit it, and you’ll be rewarded.”

I’m to be a blow-up doll with no voice or soul?

Looking down, I fought against the urge to tear my face from his grip.

He didn’t let me go. And I couldn’t keep fighting the urge. So I did the only thing I could. Slowly, I nodded, losing another battle against the trickling tears cascading silently down my cheeks. They continued their unhindered sad journey down my neck, through the collar, to my naked nipples below.

The sun glinted through the window, blinding me for a second on the diamond pin in Jethro’s shirt. His eyes were tight and narrowed, glaring at the room of leather-jacketed men; his face resolute and frozen.

Freeing me, Mr. Hawk ordered, “Lean forward, and retrieve the first bit of parchment.”

I sat unmoving. I didn’t want to wriggle on his lap. I didn’t want to give any reason for things to grow or hands to grope.

Jethro lashed out from behind, catching me by surprise. He didn’t hit me, but grabbed my diamond collar and snapped a leash to the back. Tugging the restraint, he muttered, “Lesson one. You’ll do as your told the second you’re told it. Otherwise, you’ll choke until you do.”

He moved to the back of the chair, leaving my line of sight. The moment he was gone, the pressure on the collar increased, digging into my larynx, cutting off my air supply.

Just let him strangle you.

It would be easier.

But as my body crushed against Mr. Hawk from the pressure, and the natural instinct to fight took over, I knew I couldn’t be so weak. There was no point in being stupid. If I was plane-wrecked in a jungle, I would obey the law of the wild—doing absolutely anything to survive.

Wasn’t this the same thing?

I was in a den of beasts and they were trying to help me by teaching me their law. If I obeyed, I would live. Entirely simple. Stupidly simple.

No sound, Nila. Not one word. Switch off. Retreat into that spot inside and get through this.

I could do it by adapting, by learning. I refused to be hurt for punishments I could avoid.

Jethro sensed my acquiescence at the same time as his father. I didn't know what gave me away—the slouching of my shoulders, the soft puff of sadness? Regardless, they knew I wouldn’t fight. They’d won.

Jethro released the pressure on my throat, removing the leash and dangling it over the back of the chair as he moved back to his position. Mr. Hawk angled my face, pressing a wet kiss on my cheek. “Good girl. You’re learning.”

I didn’t even flinch. I was as cold as his son.

Embrace it.

Locking eyes with Jethro, I kept myself anchored while his father’s hand slipped inside the stupid pinafore and found my breast.

Jethro gritted his teeth, but never stopped glaring into my blank gaze.

I tensed, willing every molecule to stay frigid and unattached. There was freedom in drifting—as I’d learned in the kennel—and I let my mind go.

I would be Jethro and remain stone cold on the outside. But inside I would be Kite and cut the strings of my soul—soaring where they’d never touch me.

No matter what they did.

My head bowed as Mr. Hawk pressed up, grinding a hard cock against my naked arse. “Read the parchment.”

My hair fell in a thick black curtain, obscuring half of the men who watched with eager eyes. They weren’t panting, but they reminded me of hungry dogs just waiting for permission to attack and kill.

My hands didn’t shake as I reached for the parchment. I lowered my eyes to read. I was silently amazed at how collected and aloof I seemed. Shocked that I’d so easily turned off. What did that say about me? I’d just learned about my mother. Spent the night with a pack of dogs. Am I really that adaptable? Or was shock to blame?

The parchment used to be whole—it was age-stained, blood-marked, and torn. Glancing upright, I noticed the remaining pieces scattered around the table. A treasure hunt to read what would be my sentence.

Not every man had a piece, but at a quick count, I guessed four to five shards of secret-tarnished paper were out there, waiting for me to read.