I blanched. “What? No!”

He leaned closer, his temper shimmering just beneath the surface of his cool exterior. “Yes. I won’t ask again.”

For a second, I wondered if I could hit him over the head and run. So many scenarios of running had entertained me these past few days. I’d tried to pry the diamond collar off. I’d tried to open the window. I’d tried to pick the lock on the door.

But nothing worked. Aside from death, I wasn’t getting out of there.

I’m coming, Threads.

My heart seized at the thought of Vaughn charging in here trying to save me, only to be slaughtered by the men holding me captive. I couldn’t let that happen.

Gritting my teeth, I turned and plucked my phone from the tangled sheets. Reluctantly, I passed it to his awaiting palm.

His fingers curled around the delicate device. “Thank you.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes from it. My only link to the outside world. My only avenue of freedom. I didn’t realize until that moment how much I valued it and how stir-crazy I would go if deprived of the simple things, such as texting Kite.

Admit it, you’re screwing yourself up over him.

The past few days Kite had been…different. The messages from the night before last came back to mind.

Kite007: Have you ever noticed how things you’ve always been told were wrong are the only things that feel right?

Needle&Thread: That’s rather deep coming from the man who only wants to sext and avoid personal subjects.

Kite007: If I said I wanted one night of blatant honesty, no douche-baggery, no bullshit of any kind, what would you say?

Needle&Thread: I’d say you’d completely lost it and wonder if someone with a heart had stolen your phone.

Silence.

I’d been justified in not letting my guard down. After all, I’d tried many times to get him to be a little kinder, more human toward me, but he’d always shot me down. But as ten minutes turned into twenty and still no reply, I’d felt guilty for hurting someone who obviously needed to talk.

Why didn’t he talk to others who knew him? Find solace in friends who would understand? My earlier conviction of him being Kestrel had faded a little after the initial panic attack. Since his vicious remark, asking how I knew about his owning a motorcycle, we’d both skirted the issue as if we were both afraid to pick at that particular wound.

It was best to let it scab over and not spew forth poison that wouldn’t be able to heal.

This blindness—this naivety about our true agendas and names—was strangely hypnotic, and I didn’t want it to change. I didn’t want to let him go yet, and I would have to if I knew the truth.

Needle&Thread: Kite, I’m sorry. No bullshit. No games. One night only to be ourselves and let the stark, painful truth come out. I’m here to listen if you want. If you’ve had second thoughts that’s fine, too. Either way, I hope you have a great night.

It’d taken a while, but finally he’d texted back.

Kite007: Sometimes, it seems as if those who have nothing in life have everything, and those who have everything have nothing. Sometimes, I want to be the one who has nothing, so I can appreciate all the things I think I’d miss. But the scary thing is, I don’t think I’d miss a single fucking thing.

My heart fluttered. It was as if he’d pulled my fears straight from the darkness inside me.

Needle&Thread: I understand completely. I love my family. I love their faults as well as their perfections, but I can’t help being angry, too. By keeping me safe and sheltered, they made me become someone who was a lie. I now have the hardship of figuring out the truth.

Kite007: The truth of who you truly are?

Needle&Thread: Exactly.

Kite007: We’re all a product of obligation. A carbon copy of what is permitted in the world we’re born into. None of us are free—all raised with expectations to fulfil. And it fucking sucks when those expectations become a cage.

I couldn’t reply. Tears had spilled unbidden down my cheeks. I shook so much, I’d dropped the phone.

If Kite was Kestrel. He was hiding just as much as me. A man camouflaging everything real in order to protect himself in a family of monsters.

Jethro snapped his fingers in front of my nose, breaking my daydream.

My heart galloped at the thought of never being able to text Kite again, especially now we’d broken some barrier and admitted we had more in common than seeking sexual gratification.

“You’re a thousand miles away. Pay attention.”

I blinked, forcing myself to lock onto Jethro’s golden gaze.

“I was giving you an idea of how today would go. You asked me to inform you, remember, back in the woods?”

Blinking again, I nodded. “Yes. Can you repeat?”

He chuckled coldly. “No, I will not repeat. I showed kindness in bracing you against today’s events, yet you couldn’t grant me the courtesy of listening. I refuse to reiterate myself.”

Rolling my shoulders back, I tried not to worry about what my future held and only on what was important. “Please, I need my phone back.”

Jethro shook his head. “No.”

My heart sprinted. “But you said I could use it.”

“I did.” His lips twitched. “I also said you had to ask permission in order to do so. I want to check your history. Make sure you’re not disobeying the rules.”

Shit, why didn’t I delete my inbox?

“The rules?”

His eyes narrowed. “Rules, Ms. Weaver. I don’t have many, but I did request you didn’t contact your brother. If you’ve obeyed, you have nothing to worry about, and I’ll return the phone to you.”

Shit.

Not only had I been texting V, I’d also shared more with Kite than I wanted Jethro to see.

If Kes was Kite, Jethro would know of the connection I had with his brother. He would use that knowledge. He would hurt me with it.

I can’t let that happen.

I wanted to scream.

Standing as tall as I could, I said, “My brother knows.”

Jethro went still, his face tightening. “I suppose I should thank you for your honesty. I thought he would by now. The Weaver men aren’t ones for letting us take their women. Even with the correct paperwork.”

I glared. “You knew he would come for me?”

Jethro nodded. “I suspected, and your father, too. It’s been the case for hundreds of years. Do you really think your father didn’t come and try to rescue your mother?” He laughed. “What sort of man do you think he is?”