That question gnawed at my heart until I was riddled with holes.

I honestly didn’t know. In order to save Nila, I might lose my brother.

But it was a chance I had to take.

Another round ensued.

The solid ticks of the grandfather clock pierced my eardrums. All I could think about was the time.

I flopped. Kes raised the stakes. Cut won. Daniel continued to guzzle.

New round.

I was the dealer. I handed out cards, waited for bets, did my part, then delivered the river. My hand was shit. The worst all evening, but I couldn’t play this fucking farce any longer.

“All in.” I shoved my small chip pile into the centre and glanced at the clock.

12:55 a.m.

I sighed.

Shit.

Kes threw me a look, his back tensing. Our knees touched, agreeing that from now on, I was on my own.

Nila sucked in a breath, dragging my attention to her. Her eyes were wide, confusion painting her cheeks from our shared message. She shrank further into the borrowed clothes she wore.

The last few minutes ticked past. We kept playing as if we weren’t all exceedingly aware of what was about to happen.

“All in,” Kes mumbled, shoving his substantial pile into the centre.

Cut glanced at us, rubbing his chin. “You boys are playing with fire.” Backhanding his own chips, he spread them over our tidy towers and slapped his cards face up. “All in. Show me the final card.”

Daniel chuckled. “This will be interesting.” He leaned forward, pinched the deck, and slammed down the rest of the river.

The moment I saw who won, the clock chimed one.

Clang.

Kestrel.

He’d won.

Of course, he did.

Just like he’d won the girl.

THE SINGLE TOLL of the clock sent mayhem racing through my blood.

One a.m.

Closer to the witching hour than daybreak—curtained by deep darkness where sins and perfidious acts occurred with no repercussion.

Fear.

Endless fear.

It compounded, amalgamated until I couldn’t breathe.

Time screeched to a halt as the four Hawks discarded their game and turned their eyes on me.

I backed away, clutching my heart.

No!

My voice became a dried-up riverbed with no words to flow.

Jethro placed his elbows on the table, running his hands through his tinsel hair. His shoulders heaved as he fortified for whatever came next.

Cut slapped him on the back, muttering something beneath his breath.

Kes glanced at me then away. His body stiff and bristling.

He knows.

He knew what was about to happen. He knew and couldn’t look at me.

Oh, God.

My fear turned to petrified terror.

Daniel stood up first.

Cut nodded as the little creep moved toward me.

“Come here, Nila Weaver. It’s time.”

I shook my head, backing up until I bumped into a blood-red wingback. “Don’t touch me.” My gaze shot to Jethro. He stood bowed like an ancient tree that’d weathered far too many storms. His body was knotted and twisted, eyes tight and strained.

“I said, come here.” Daniel lunged, grabbing my arm and jerking me against him. “Oh lookie. I’m touching you.”

I bared my teeth, struggling in his foul grip. “Get your filthy—”

“Nila…” Kestrel stood, clearing his throat.

I paused, waiting for him to say something more. If his older brother wouldn’t stop this atrocity, perhaps he would. Maybe I should’ve put my faith in Kes all along.

However, he only shook his head, his face once again hiding everything.

Cut reclined in his chair, snapping his fingers. “Proceed, Daniel.”

“No, wait!”

Daniel dragged me forward. “Come along, whore.” Yanking me to stand in front of him, he snatched my hands and secured them behind me with a silk sash. “Can’t have you scratching or running now, can we?” He laughed under his breath.

Jethro trembled.

Please, stop this!

He didn’t see my silent message as he tossed back another finger of cognac and warily turned to face me. The binds around my skin were tight, already cutting off blood supply.

Cut watched his son closely, not giving instruction but overseeing his every move.

Planting his legs on the chess piece carpet, Jethro said, “Nila Weaver, tonight is the night you will pay the Third Debt. Do you have anything to say before we begin?”

I fought against my restraints as Daniel hovered behind me. He’d secured them too well—they wouldn’t budge. “Please…whatever you’re about to do. Don’t do it.”

Cut laughed softly. “Such a waste of words, Ms. Weaver.” Nodding at Daniel, he ordered, “Seeing as she has no respect for speaking. Gag her.”

“Wait!” I turned feral. “No!” I darted forward, but Daniel dragged me back. I squirmed in his hold, turning into a snake hoping to slither from his trap.

But it was no use.

Within a moment, his wiry strength caught me, subdued me, and threaded a piece of red cloth through my lips. I bit down on it as he tied the knot behind my head, effectively bridling me like a domesticated pony. The material pressed uncomfortably on my tongue.

“Can’t speak now, can you, Weaver?” Daniel tapped my cheek.

Jethro!

Jethro ran a shaky hand over his face.

How could he permit this? Didn’t I mean anything to him?

“Now you have no option but to listen; it’s time for your history lesson.” Cut angled his chair, looking like a king on the carpet chessboard about to slaughter a simple pawn with no concern. “Listen carefully, Nila. Understand your sins. Then the night will proceed exactly as it did all those years ago.” He looked at Jethro. “Continue, son.”