Final Debt

Could I be that cold-hearted and merciless?

Let’s find out.

My palms drenched with sickening sweat as I pushed one last time on the lever. The table cracked, the leather squeaked, and Cut convulsed with cries. “Fuck, stop. God, what d—do you want? Stop—”

“I want nothing from you.” Locking the table from loosening, I removed my hands from the rack. His sockets were at breaking point. For now.

It was amazing how nimble the human body was. An hour in that position and cartilage would slowly snap, tendons stretch, and bones bellow for relief. But once freed, the body would knit back together. It would take time to realign the spinal column and soothe the blistering tears inside, but the long-term effects would be nil.

I knew.

I was walking proof.

Cupping my fingers around the club again, I prowled around the table. Cut’s question resonated in my mind. “What do you want?” In all honesty, there was nothing I wanted. I had Nila—she was all I needed. But I wasn’t doing this solely for her. Jasmine mattered, Kestrel, even Daniel.

I did this for them.

Wrenching to a halt, I looked at my father. “You know what? There is something I want from you.” I moved from his head to his feet.

Cut tried to look down his body, but the pressure on his shoulders and arms wouldn’t let his head rise. “What…anything. Name it and it’s yours. You’re a good son, Jethro. We can forget this and move on.”

“You’re right in some respects, Father. I will forget and move on. But you lost that luxury when you stole Emma from her family and let Bonnie manipulate you for so long.”

Once this was over, I would deal with my grandmother. I would make her regret playing puppet master to her own family.

“Bonnie’s dead.” Cut sucked in a breath, his neck straining against the pressure in his joints. “She died of a heart attack just before you arrived.”

I froze.

Her death had been stolen from me. But perhaps, it was for the best. I already shook with rapidly fading courage. I already whittled beneath Cut’s emotions. I wouldn’t have the energy or bodily strength to take another life.

“I’m sorry.” For all my hatred toward my grandmother and her strict ways, Cut did love his mother and feared her in equal measure. I let myself feel what he felt. He hurt. A lot. He was penitent and self-condemnatory but not enough to warrant salvation. Beneath his pain, he still thought he was justified.

He was wrong.

Holding up the club, I moved so the weapon was in his line of vision. “Remember who else you used this on?” I shuddered, fighting back memories of that horrible, fateful day. The day I realised he would never understand me, and I had to be strong—not for myself, but for my sister.

He’d taught me the final lesson in this place. The lesson that’d helped me remain true until Nila made me thaw.

Cut gulped. “Kite…wait.”

“No, you don’t get to give me orders anymore.” Smashing the club into my palm, I welcomed the sting. “I’ve waited long enough.”

Another thing about the rack—while tightening joints and stretching bones, it placed the human body into the perfect position of extra sensitivity. The natural cushioning of cartilage and fat suddenly wasn’t enough to protect such an elongated pose.

Before, the strikes I delivered would’ve hurt him but not murdered him. The pain would’ve been sharp but survivable. But this…if I hit him now, the pain would be a hundred times worse. A thousand times worse.

Barricade yourself. Prepare.

The simplest touch could shatter a kneecap. The gentlest nudge could snap an elbow. He was the most vulnerable he’d ever been physically. It was my job to make him as defenceless emotionally.

My heart chugged. I didn’t want to do this. But I would.

“I need you to know I’ll be with you every step. I won’t be able to turn off what you’re undergoing, but I’m going to do it anyway because this isn’t for me.” Spreading my legs, I prepared to swing. “I’m doing this for Jasmine. You’ll finally understand how your daughter felt that afternoon.”

“Jet, no, don’t, don’t—”

Cut understood what I did: I wouldn’t hold back anymore. I wouldn’t be gentle or forgiving.

Before had been the warm-up.

This…this was his true punishment.

“I’m sorry.”

Swallowing hard, I let loose and smashed my father’s ankle with the club. The blow did what I knew it would. It pulverized his complex skeleton, shattering the talus and lateral malleolus. Biology came back; names of body parts I didn’t really care about popped into my head before giving way beneath my strike.

The room seemed to explode outward as Cut sucked in the largest breath then screamed his fucking soul out.

His screams flew to the roof and bounced down.

His screams rattled the window in its ancient frame.

His screams sent me hurtling back to the day I wished I could forget.

“Stop it!” I didn’t care the rack kept me immobile. I didn’t care blood seeped down my wrists from fighting the leather. All I cared about was a silently sobbing Jasmine at Cut’s feet. “Leave her alone!”

Cut breathed hard, swiping away damp hair from his forehead. This lesson had been the worst of them. He’d done everything he could to get me to no longer care he hurt Jasmine. He forced me to stay stoic and calm, hooking my heart rate up to a monitor so he could track my progress.