Indebted

Jethro

IT WAS TOO easy.

I’d stolen her right before her father and brother. I’d taken her with no blood shed or bones broken.

Power wasn’t threats or uncivilized fighting. It wasn’t brawn or hard-won arguments.

Power was holding something so absolute, a man would do what he was told—all the while cursing your very soul. True power wasn’t wielded by gangs or even loudly-spoken governments.

True power. Limitless power—only graced a fair few. It gave those lucky ones the ability—the nobility, to be courteous and polite. All while holding their fucking balls in their hands.

Archibald Weaver was one such example.

I shook my head, disbelieving how the so-called enemy of my family handed over his only daughter. The same daughter I’d seen in tabloids as a rising star of designers.

The same offspring who was never photographed with a man on her arm or seen sneaking out of a restaurant with a hidden lover. He’d wanted to kill me. I had no doubt he would try to kill me.

But he would fail.

Just like he failed to protect her.

Because he had no fucking power.

All it had taken was two sentences and Nila went from his to mine. A thrill ran down my spine, remembering the rush of sensation when I’d tapped him on the shoulder.

His dark eyes had been cool but welcoming, believing I was a stranger there to congratulate.

That all changed when I handed over a black-flocked business card and said, “The time is nigh to pay your debts. Your past has found you, and there will be no peace until she’s ours.”

His eyes went from cool to glinting with horror and rebellion. He knew everything I did. He knew there was only one thing he could do—no matter that it would break his heart.

This was his fate. Her fate. Their fate. It’d been written and understood the moment he’d knocked up his wife.

He knew the consequences, and he also knew the power we controlled. No matter his unwillingness and terror, there was no other course of action.

Without a single word, he’d marched me to his daughter and placed her life in my hands. I hadn’t believed my father when he said it would go so smoothly. After all—none of this made sense. But it had.

And it did. And now…it was all on me.

My education had begun a month ago. I’d been told of my upcoming duties, given history lessons of past debt collections. But I was as new to this as her.

We came from generations interlocked in the same untieable way.

Now, it was our turn.

And we would have to learn together.

I glared at my conquest. Letting her hand go, she glided beside me wrapped in darkness. I didn’t need a physical claim on her now that she was outside—alone.

Was it trust in her father’s judgment guiding her feet or stupidity?

Either way, I would be the last person she would ever see.