Black Swan

by London Miller

  Katherine didn’t seem to notice. “There’s someone I would love for you to meet.”

  Karina had gotten so good at hiding her feelings, she didn’t have to wonder if her surprise would be visible. It wasn’t.

  A distant part of her wondered how her mother could even say the words—as if she were in any way ready for this. But the other part of her—the one that was as broken as it was disinterested—understood the way of the world now.

  People were who they were.

  And there was nothing she could do about it.

  “I was telling Karina,” Isla jumped in, always willing to put herself in the middle, “that perhaps it would be in her best interest to find a guard of some sort. So then if she feels safe, she’d be more willing to venture out of the house.”

  Which was her very polite way of saying she would much rather have this meeting after their trip—though even that wouldn’t be long enough. She was thankful for the time it bought her all the same.

  “Of course,” Katherine agreed readily, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked over at Isla. “But five minutes couldn’t possibly hurt, could it?”

  Her polite way of saying this was happening no matter how Isla attempted to stall it.

  “Fine,” Karina said, finding her voice—was even surprised by the firmness of it. “Who is he?”

  All too quickly, Katherine was delighted again. “Oh, just give me a moment to get dressed. I’ll tell you all about him.”

  Of course now that she was getting what she wanted, they had all the time in the world to discuss things, though she’d just said it wouldn’t be more than a few minutes.

  “Isla, where’s that man of yours?”

  “His name is Zoran,” her sister muttered, making her think this wasn’t the first time she’d had to remind Katherine of his name. “And he’s downstairs waiting. We do have a flight we need to catch.”

  “Then perhaps you should wait for Karina down there. If time is of the essence, we wouldn’t want you interrupting, would we?”

  “But Isla—”

  “No,” Isla said before Karina could cut in, “Mother’s right. I wouldn’t want to be a distraction.”

  Karina didn’t get a word in edgewise before Isla exited the room without looking back. It wasn’t until the click of her heels faded in the background that Katherine spoke again.

  “Now, where were we?”

  “Why did Isla need to leave?”

  Katherine sighed as if the question was a waste of their time. “You girls have always been rather dependent on each other. No matter what anyone had to say about it, if there’s one of you, there’s the other.”

  She said it like it was a bad thing, but Karina couldn’t imagine a life where she didn’t have Isla in her corner. She couldn’t imagine she would have made it through the next few months without her.

  “You asked me here, Mother.”

  “Why is it that you think Isla is the only one who cares about your well-being?”

  “I never said you didn’t, Mo—”

  “If you would have asked for me, I would have been there.”

  Except she had never had to ask for Isla to be there—she just came. Without question or comment. Every night for months, she had come to eat dinner with her. No matter how late it was or what kind of mood she was in.

  She was also sure that had Katherine not called for her, they would be back at the house now eating dinner together. If this call had done nothing else, it had inspired her to find her voice again.

  And not to mention, her mother also had a phone—though she seemed to forget that fact during her list of complaints—and if Mother had wanted to talk with her about anything, she would have answered.

  Like how she’d called because she wanted Karina here to meet a man she wasn’t interested in knowing.

  She was gravely tired of men at the moment.

  “Well, I’m here now,” Karina settled on saying. “Who is it that you want me to meet?”

  The last thing she wanted to talk about any further with her mother was Uilleam and the baby.

  “His name is Elias Harrington,” Katherine called from inside the closet, her words punctuated by the rattle of hangers. “He’s my newest employee.”

  It wasn’t like her mother to hire men who weren’t meant to stand in one place and look menacing, so for that reason alone, the mysterious Elias had her curiosity piqued, but she also immediately mistrusted any man her mother did business with.

  She’d grown to know those sort quite well.

  “What does he do for you exactly?” she asked, her gaze following the maid as she passed in the hallway carrying a white fur blanket.

  “A bit of everything,” Katherine answered, sounding closer.

  Karina turned just in time to see Katherine exiting the closet carrying a pair of nude Louboutins. It no longer surprised her how quickly the woman could get dressed. It was probably second nature by now.

  “But going forward,” she continued before stepping into her heels, “he doesn’t just work for me, Karina. He works for us. This is your home as well, no matter how far away you are.”

  As if she could ever forget. “I haven’t—”

  “But perhaps we’ll forego the meeting for when you’re properly dressed.” She waved for her to follow. “I wouldn’t want you to make a bad first impression.”

  As if she cared what the man would think.

  Reminding herself that they wouldn’t be here for much longer, Karina followed her out of the room and back downstairs to where Isla was lounging on the tufted sofa, currently eyeing the blushing girl standing in front of her with the butler’s son who couldn’t be more than sixteen.

  Even Karina didn’t completely trust the innocent expression on her sister’s face. She knew all about her sister’s tendency to unveil people’s secrets—or, rather, how she found a way to get them to confess what they wouldn’t otherwise.

  “Shouldn’t you be with the other girls, Tatiana?” Katherine asked the girl who had ducked her head and directed her gaze to the floor.

  “Yes, madam.”

  She escaped out of the room without waiting to be dismissed.

  Magnus, the butler’s son whose name had just come to her, ducked away without having to be told, not meeting anyone’s eyes as he left, but if Karina wasn’t mistaken, she thought she saw him glance back the way Tatiana had gone.

  “I trust you’re not tormenting one of my students?” Katherine asked.

  “Torment is such a strong word. I like to think I’m entertaining them.”

  Or rather entertaining herself at their expense, Karina thought.

  “Mmm, and where is it that you’re taking your sister?”

  “I know a few people who have experience with personal security.”

  “Surely, she would need someone more competent than just personal security.”

  “Zoran was in personal security,” Isla said, a note of pride in her voice. “And he’s by far the best man for the job.”

  “For you, I’m sure he is, but this is Karina,” Katherine said carefully, before adding, “He’s raising an army in case you didn’t remember.”

  Karina had been following along well enough until this moment when she wasn’t sure whether she’d heard correctly. “Wait, what?”

  All eyes turned to her.

  “Whose raising an army? What are you talking about?”

  Katherine looked at Isla, genuine surprise in her expression. “You haven’t told her …”

  “There hasn’t been an opportune time.”

  “Then what on earth have the two of you talked about for months?”

  “That’s not important.” Karina spoke up before they could go off on a tangent about that. “Just who are you talking about?”

  Katherine sighed, her expression changing by the second. “There’s a lot you don’t know about Uilleam Runehart and what really happened that day.”

  That day.

  That day.
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  Judging from the expressions staring back at her, even as she had no idea what they would say, she could tell she wouldn’t like whatever it was.

  4

  Elsie

  A breath exploded out of him as Uilleam sprinted back up toward the estate.

  Skorpion had taken it upon himself to remove every stitch of alcohol inside the place—had even raided the secret hiding places no one should have known about, courtesy of Kit, he had no doubt—so to avoid doing something he might regret, he’d settled on running.

  One of the few things that managed to clear his head when he otherwise couldn’t.

  Back in New York, he’d had his treadmill, but considering he hadn’t attempted to decorate his old home beyond repairing the structural damage and decay from over the years, he didn’t have one here.

  But for once, he didn’t mind that he couldn’t do his daily run while watching the news—especially when he doubted there was anything they were reporting on that could interest him at the moment.

  Especially not after he’d taken care of the scene.

  Out here in the wilderness with tall trees surrounding him, it was easier to center his thoughts on the only thing that mattered to him—what happened that night …

  Three years ago …

  “Shit.”

  He heard the curse, had repeated it himself in the fractured chaos of his thoughts, but he couldn’t bring himself to look back at Skorpion as he entered the room.

  He wanted to—more than anything in the world. He wanted to turn away in hopes that when he finally looked again, the image would change. There wouldn’t be a body currently sprawled across his floor.

  Karina wouldn’t be in the center of a pool of blood with her body savagely beaten.

  Uilleam felt the acid in his throat the moment before he retched, stumbling off the floor to run in the opposite direction and barely making it outside before he lost the contents of his stomach.

  That image lingered there.

  The savagery.

  The red.

  The arcs and slashes and blots of fucking red.

  It was everywhere, even when he closed his eyes—even when he dragged his hands through his hair and fisted the roots. The image was there.

  He swiped the back of his arm across his mouth, not caring about the suit he would throw away anyway—not when he was sure the wetness at his knees was her blood.

  He dragged in a lungful of air, trying to remember how to breathe. How to function. How to process the overload of stimuli around him.

  This wasn’t real.

  He’s gone too long without sleep.

  Too focused on the job he needed to see finished.

  It was the work of an overactive mind.

  That’s all it could possibly be.

  It certainly couldn’t be—

  “You don’t need to come back in here.”

  Uilleam squeezed his eyes shut, willing his mind to get itself in order, hoping that when he reopened them, he would be somewhere else.

  “Tell me it’s not ...” He swallowed reflexively, wondering when it had suddenly gotten so hot. “It’s not her.”

  “Whoever did this could—”

  “Her,” he snapped, whirling around and feeling too wired and jittery. “Tell me it’s not her. I don’t care about anything else. That! Answer me that.”

  There had never been a time when Uilleam snapped that Skorpion didn’t hesitate to respond—no matter how pissy Uilleam could get. That was just the way the man was wired.

  But now, he stood there silently, his expression … apologetic. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s not then,” Uilleam said with a nod, intending to move around him. “Someone is fucking with me.”

  Besides, whoever the woman was had her face smashed to bits. It was very possible that he’d just been in shock—that he hadn’t been thinking clearly.

  That was the answer.

  He didn’t give Skorpion a chance to stop him as he brushed by him to re-enter the house, doing his best to ignore the cloying scent of blood in the air. The acrid aroma was making his hands twitch.

  This time, he took a breath before he entered the living room—collected his thoughts as he took in the dark hair. He deliberately skipped over her face, taking in everything else.

  Searching for hints that it wasn’t who he thought it was. A birthmark or a mole he hadn’t seen before.

  A birthmark ...

  Karina’s was on her side, just above her hip in the dip of her waist. A memory of him tracing over the lines of it came rushing forward, and before he could talk himself out of what he was about to do, he reached for her and gently turned her, trying not to recoil at the cold stiffness that greeted him.

  Another steadying breath.

  The barest hesitation.

  Very carefully, he lifted the edge of the tattered shirt the woman wore, sliding it up further and further until …

  He found it.

  What little piece of his existence hadn’t believed it was his Karina drifted away.

  It felt as if his chest had cracked open, and nothing could staunch the blood flow.

  A part of him wished he hadn’t checked.

  Uilleam shook his head hard as he came out of that memory, focusing on the feel of the earth beneath his trainers to keep him grounded.

  Local police would only distract and get in his way, so if he wanted an answer for what had happened, he only had himself. So, he had done the only thing he knew how.

  He fixed it.

  He hired cleaners to remove the traces of despair he’d found that night. In mere hours, he had managed to erase it all.

  But in that time, something in him had started to chip away and the reality of what he had done—cleaning up his lover’s body—had settled on him, and he’d had to chase those feelings away with anything he could get his hands on.

  Three months later, nothing had managed to erase the thoughts. They were there constantly, breaking down through every moment of his day.

  At least the alcohol dulled it somewhat, but when he was sober like this, it felt all too fresh.

  Uilleam was just starting the upward descent toward the front gates when he heard the sound of tires crawling across the gravel. He turned in time to see his brother’s car coming up the hill before another, less flashy BMW turned in behind him.

  He knew before he ever saw the driver who would be behind the wheel. Elsie’s presence had always been one you could feel.

  It didn’t matter that years had passed since he’d seen her. Some days, even he had a tendency not to think about her.

  That had been her final request there at the end—for them to forget she ever existed because she would certainly forget about them. It was easy for him to remember the abuse he and his brother had suffered at the hands of their father. He’d felt it—watched it. Heard it.

  But Elsie had never shared with him just why she had wanted to leave the family without a single call or text.

  She’d merely disappeared one day and never looked back, but by then, Uilleam couldn’t blame her. In many ways, he had done the same.

  He watched them pass before he started the jog back home, finding his butler and personal assistant, Dominic, standing at the top of the steps, ramrod straight as always. Uilleam couldn’t count the number of years the man had been loyal to his family—probably held more secrets than even Uilleam knew—and there was no one he trusted more to be inside his home.

  He had a towel and a change of shirt with him, quietly disappearing back inside once Uilleam had both in hand.

  Kit was hardly out of the car before he called to his brother, “You didn’t have to bring her.”

  “The way I hear it,” said the low, cultured voice of the woman currently exiting her car and coming around the front, “you’re in dire straits.”

  Uilleam frowned as he regarded her, committing to memory the changes in her since the last time he’d seen her—not sure if she would look the sam
e the next time he saw her.

  “As you can see,” he said with a gesture to himself as he changed shirts. “I’m perfectly fine.”

  Her nose wrinkled as she stepped closer. “Except you smell like a brewery.”

  “And what would you know of one?” he asked, remembering the little girl who’d always trailed him as he was always trailing Kit.

  She’d been as quiet as a mouse to the point that sometimes he wouldn’t know she was there at all.

  “I’ve grown up,” she said pointedly, embracing him before he could get another word in.

  But the moment he went to embrace her back, she pulled away quite smoothly before circling him and heading inside.

  “It’s exactly as I remember it,” she called behind her even as her gaze trailed over the row of self-portrait paintings that took up the great hallway.

  From their mother and father to the others that made up the Runehart name, spanning generations, Alexander had commissioned one for each of them when they were younger. Portraits that were currently tucked away somewhere upstairs in the midst of dust and boxes.

  “Not much has changed,” he agreed, sparing his brother the briefest of glances before they both walked in.

  More than five years had passed since they were all home together like this. The last time had been when Kit slaughtered their father. Elsie had come in the days that followed—to pay her respects, she’d said, though Uilleam had always thought she was merely making sure the man was actually dead.

  “What was her name?” Elsie asked, looking back at him.

  Uilleam licked his lips, tempted not to answer at all. “Who?”

  “The woman who’s driven you back to this barren place.” Her green eyes darted in Kit’s direction. “He told me she was quite beautiful.”

  Uilleam scoffed, those words feeling like a burn in his chest. “Is that all he said?”

  “He also said you loved her dearly.”

  He couldn’t help the flinch if he tried. He wondered if he ever would be able to at just the mention of her.

  Elsie had always been rather matter-of-factly, a passing trait from their father, but now there was no timidness to her words—no careful caution to what she was saying.