I’d never seen a more perfect woman.

And when I said perfect woman. I meant for him, not for me.

He needed someone pure. Someone transparent and honest. He needed unconditional-no-bullshit-love. No lies. No tricks. Clarity and understanding.

Nila was all those things. Against all odds, he’d found his perfect other. What sort of brother would I be if I didn’t support him and ensure both our futures were safe?

Our time was over too quick.

If it were real, I would’ve spread her legs and licked her. I would’ve pushed her gently down my body and requested she repay the favour with her tongue.

I would’ve stolen every ounce of her pleasure. I would’ve worshipped her tits and wrung every whimper from her soul. She would’ve hovered in erotic pain and drowned in bliss.

I wanted her on top of me, riding my cock and her kissing me, not me kissing her.

Ah, fuck.

I would’ve drained her of everything.

But that wasn’t allowed.

It took every willpower I had left, but I was able to rein in my needs and focus.

I’d bucked my hips, driving my aching flesh against her lower spine.

Everything I wanted didn’t matter. What did matter was the camera footage and what was to come. Jethro and I would win tonight.

We’d broken every rule and hadn’t finished yet.

The Third Debt was ours to control—not Cut’s.

But now, as I wiped my cum from Nila’s back and grabbed the syringe that I’d hidden beneath the pillow in preparation, I knew I’d done the right thing.

By everyone.

Rubbing her arm, I uncapped the needle and slid it into her flesh without warning.

Nila winced, her head tilting to see, even though the blindfold meant it was an impossibility.

“What did you do?” she breathed, fear lacing her tone.

I kissed her forehead, untangling my body from hers.

I’d borrowed her. I’d tasted her. Now, it was time to give her back to her rightful owner.

“I did the only thing I could. I don’t want you to be awake for the next part.”

“Wait…please, don’t…let…them…” Her body twitched as the anaesthetic quickly stole her.

My heart calmed its erratic rhythm and my cock deflated as she fell into the unnatural sleep of medicine. Once her breath regulated, I undid her blindfold and untied her wrists.

Climbing from the bed, I tucked a sheet over her nakedness.

Standing over her, I murmured, “I want you to think I’m the hero in this, Nila Weaver. I want you to believe I’m the saint and that all of this was my concoction.” My eyes rose to the blinking red camera in the top of the room. I saluted it. “But I’m not the one who loves you. And I’m not the one who’s playing the game better than I ever thought possible.”

Bending over her, I kissed her parted lips and gathered my clothing from the floor. “It was all his idea. The only way he could keep protecting you. The only way he could stay alive to save you another day.”

Looking at the camera one last time, I hoped my brother would forgive me. With a heavy sigh, I gathered Nila’s unconscious form and carried her away.

I WAS DRUNK.

Motherfucking obliterated. Off-my-tree intoxicated.

There. I admitted it.

Drunk as a fucking alcoholic.

I’d been clearheaded all night. But the moment Kestrel took my woman into the bedroom and stripped her, I couldn’t do it anymore.

I wanted to delete all knowledge any way possible.

It didn’t work.

I winced, opening my eyes.

Where am I?

Instead of darkness and flickering flames from the fireplace, the windows welcomed pink, tentative dawn.

The room swirled, balancing on a stomach full of liquor.

Dawn.

The blank slate of a new day.

Dawn.

The eraser of yesterday’s mistakes and the pencil of today’s new ones.

I groaned, blocking out the pink light with smarting eyelids. I wished the awakening sun could eliminate the past couple of months. I wished everything could be washed away, granting a fresh start.

What happened last night?

The moment I probed my pounding brain, I wished I hadn’t.

Thanks to Kestrel, I’d done what I didn’t think I would ever be strong enough to do.

Plans I never thought I could put in place. A future I never thought I could earn.

My mind slipped a few hours into the past.

When I left the billiards room, I followed strict orders on where to go and what to prepare.

And I did—just like the fucking pussy I was.

As the Third Debt depicted, one man would rape, the others would wait their turn. An orgy with witnesses. A night of entertainment for devils and a night of horrors for angels.

I stormed into the security room, turned on the feed between the three cameras dotted around the room where the Third Debt would take place and waited for Cut and Daniel.

Only, I added something else to that to-do list.

Opening the liquor cabinet that the Black Diamonds stocked when on security detail, I poured copious amounts of second-rate bourbon down my throat.

The pills were fucking useless. They blocked emotions from tainting me, but they didn’t do anything about taming my own.

When Kestrel appeared with Nila in his arms on screen, I almost smashed the bottle and sliced my wrists open with jagged glass. And when he’d stripped her and climbed into bed, I buckled under heartbreak—my insides cascading with broken blood.

Cut and Daniel arrived.

I drank more disgusting alcohol. Their thoughts and enjoyment splashed around my burning body, cocooning us in a cesspit of nastiness inside the small, windowless room.

The sounds of Kestrel grunting tore at my eardrums. The sights of sheets bunching and bed moving dug daggers into my eyes. Nila’s begs echoed like a never-ending reflection in my soul.

It was all…too…fucking…much.

Cut and Daniel laughed. They peered closer for a better view. They whispered and high-fived and muttered what horrific things they would do during their turns.

I kept drinking.

And drinking.

And motherfucking drinking.

Each swallow only stoked my pain, and if it wasn’t for my trust in my brother, I would’ve slaughtered everyone in the bloody room.

It felt like it went on for decades—who knew how long it truly was. But slowly, my attention turned from the fiasco on the TV screen to my brother and father.

Their evil plans became slurred and unfinished. Their eyes hazy and glazed. Cut saw me watching him and stole the bourbon to swig a healthy dose.

He could have the damn bottle—it didn't matter. I was past legal levels of blood intoxication. I saw double. I heard triple. I felt quadruple pain.

Keep it together.

Kes assured me, they’d be out cold in approximately ten minutes.

Not long…

I grimaced when Cut slapped me on the back. I hid my murderous intentions when Daniel sneered as Nila screamed.

Inch by inch, I died inside.

All my life, I’d been in pain. Emotional pain. Physical pain. Psychological pain.

But this…

This pain—especially the moment when Nila realised what Kes intended and gave in to him—was like nothing I’d ever felt before.

It was physical, emotional, and psychological all at once.

A ransacking of my very marrow. An acid on my soul.

I couldn’t break. I couldn’t cry or scream or yell.

All I could do was crowd around the camera with my condemned family and witness the rape of the woman who held my fucking heart. If Kes and I pulled this off, we stood a chance of ending this. I was done trying to win on my own. Nila was my team. Kes was my team. Together, we would win against wrathful corruption.

Kestrel picked up his pace; the sheets tangled harder around two thrusting bodies.

And that was my limit.

I completely lost my shit.

Daniel cackled. “I’m going to fuck that cunt’s mouth.”

Cut laughed. “Her arse is all mine.” He turned to me. “You haven’t ploughed that yet, have you, Jet?”

Yep.

I lost it.

I fucking punched Cut in the jaw.

He fell.

Hard.

Cut smashed against the door, folding to the floor.

“Hey!” Daniel launched himself on me, but he was too slow. I slammed my fist into his face. With a grunt, he crashed against the keyboard, bouncing off the desk.

Two throws. Two men down.

My knuckles throbbed. I waited to deliver more.

But they never woke up.

I liked to think it was my powerful punch, but…it was all thanks to Kes.

Everything was all thanks to fucking Kes.

I groaned, grabbing my head, willing the memories to stop.

The hardness of the floor and coolness of sleeping with no blankets forced me to haul myself to my knees. My lips pressed together against the backwash of stale bourbon. The pills I’d taken at the start of the night had worn off, but the liquor was well and truly still controlling my blood.

I should’ve headed to bed once it was all over, but I couldn’t.

How could I?

Inching higher on my knees, I peered over the edge of the bed. The remaining shadows painted her in a ghostly collage.