Black Swan

by London Miller

  “What exactly are we meant to discuss here?” Uilleam asked without acknowledging what she’d said. “If you’re suddenly worried about my sobriety, Skorpion has already beat you to it. He’s removed all of my alcohol.”

  “At my request,” Kit cut in, his voice too alarmingly helpful. “Three months is long enough to dull your pain. Now you need to feel it.”

  “Why the hell would I want to do that?”

  It hadn’t been long enough that he didn’t remember the acute agony he had suffered after learning that Karina was gone and it was too late for him to save her. He didn’t forget that he had all but ignored her during the months that led up to … that day.

  He’d been stubborn—refusing to see where he’d been wrong and angry with her for making him second-guess himself.

  He should have done better by her.

  “Because you’re wasting away here in isolation,” Elsie said. “And what does that do to her memory? If it’s as Kit says and you think someone has done this to get back at you for some slight, you’re only allowing them to win by doing nothing.”

  It was the only thing that made sense.

  Karina, despite her profession, hadn’t made any enemies—especially not one who would have done that—but he certainly did. He could think of almost a dozen men off the top of his head who were capable of that sort of brutality and even more who could afford to pay to have the job done.

  Any number of them could have done it.

  And the way he saw it, this had been an act of war.

  It didn’t matter that years had passed them by—in moments like these, so few and far in between, it felt as if she had never left. That they had all had the lessons of Alexander instilled in them even though he was long dead.

  “Let your guilt mean something,” she continued. “Avenge her, and perhaps then, you’ll be able to move forward.”

  No, he doubted he would ever be able to move on—not from someone like her. To the one person he’d bared his soul to and loved more than anything in the world. He didn’t think he would ever be able to let her go.

  But if he had to live it, he would make sure that whoever was responsible paid for what they did. He would make them wish for a fate better than the one he had planned for them because he was going to make them pay in the worst way possible.

  It only seemed fair.

  They took something dear from him.

  He would snatch the world from beneath their feet.

  5

  A Reason

  Her attention was split, though she couldn’t help it.

  Karina wondered at the real reasons her mother had asked to see her—and ultimately, the secret they were keeping from her—as well as just where they were flying her off to.

  She thought she heard Zoran mention Romania when he’d been on the phone earlier, but she couldn’t be sure she’d heard him right until they actually got there. This was twice now that she had been whisked away onto a plane. Only this time, there was no comfort at the knowledge of going somewhere familiar.

  In all her travels, she had never ventured to Romania—especially not to a place that apparently bred killers. She couldn’t imagine that she would feel particularly moved by any man there, especially since she suspected they would all be rather intimidating who were meant to be used as weapons and nothing more.

  But she didn’t need to like them, she reasoned. They just needed to provide a service—at least that was what Katherine would say. She doubted her mother even knew the names of her own security.

  Despite the way she was feeling on the matter, Karina had, at least, changed out of her more comfortable attire to something even Mother would approve of.

  “Zoran?”

  She shook her thoughts away as the man in question was passing, though he paused when she called his name. He reminded her of Skorpion in a way—that casual, easygoing nature that hid the threat he really was. Except Skorpion still had the size to alert anyone to the fact that he was capable of causing harm.

  “How is she?” she asked, indicating her sister with a nod of her head.

  He looked intrigued by the question as he looked over in Isla’s direction but not surprised. “Worried about you. She’s not sleeping.”

  Karina wouldn’t begin to assume the intimacy between the two of them, but she also found it curious that he would know that, considering Isla had never been one to share that sort of information. Beyond the fact that she was notoriously private when it came to her own life, she certainly didn’t share anything to do with the family.

  Which made her wonder again about the relationship between them—how they had gotten here—because he wasn’t just working for her. He accompanied her wherever she went. And the fact that she had introduced him to Karina in the first place said a lot.

  “Because of—” She stopped herself before she could say it, her hand reflexively going to the flatness of her stomach. She missed the comfort her bump had given her, knowing there was a life she had to protect.

  She’d taken it for granted.

  “That plays a part,” he said gently, understanding far too well what she hadn’t been able to say.

  “What’s the other?”

  “Maybe this is a conversation better had with her.”

  “It’s Isla,” she said, knowing he would understand—or at least hoping he would. “If she could protect me from a scratch, she would.” Which meant, there weren’t always any tough conversations between them.

  “That’s just it, I think. She wishes she could have protected you from this. She’d told Katherine you weren’t ready to venture out on your own.”

  Even as that was news to her, she didn’t find it surprising. While she might not have known what had happened when Isla turned seventeen and left Ashworth Hall for the first time, she had noticed her sister had changed once she came back.

  She was still Isla, of course—anyone would be hard pressed to change her completely—but a part of Karina had always thought the light that shined inside her had dimmed a bit.

  “No one could have predicted this,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

  Even as a part of her didn’t believe that.

  Uilleam had shown her who he was—she’d just refused to believe it. Some part of her had known that a decision he made wouldn’t sit well with her—she’d known that the night he came home and told her he agreed to kidnap a child for the benefit of a woman obsessed with power.

  “Maybe not,” he agreed with a shrug. “But the guilt is still there all the same.”

  It wasn’t her fault.

  It was no one’s fault other than the man who’d shot a pregnant woman with no remorse. Only he deserved the blame for what happened.

  “Have you any idea what they’re so afraid to tell me?” she asked.

  Zoran’s smile grew then. “Something my mother used to say, ‘never share business that isn’t yours to tell.’”

  Fair enough. “Smart woman.”

  “It’s kept me alive this long.”

  Knowing she wouldn’t get much more out of him, she changed the subject. “How did you meet Isla?”

  “Worked for a guy she had a thing with. In the end, she made the better offer.”

  Her brows crept up, more than a little curious about his meaning. “What do you … do, exactly?”

  “Mercenary.”

  An image of Skorpion popped into her head. She’d grown from only knowing one to two. “How does one fall into that line of work?” She’d always wanted to ask the question of Skorpion but hadn’t ever gotten the chance.

  “It’s a long and sordid tale better left for another day.”

  There were ghosts there, lingering in his eyes. Whatever story was there, she could certainly tell it wasn’t a pretty one. Glancing back at her sister, she wondered if Isla knew—if they’d shared stories with each other.

  Did he know more about her than even she did?

  She often thought Isla had tried very hard to shi
eld her from the world—to make sure the rose-tinted glasses she wore remained firmly in place. Isla had never been the sort to share her pain with anyone, not even with her, but if Zoran managed to get her secrets from her … she was thankful Isla had someone all the same.

  Isla finished on the sat phone and ended her call, walking back over to them before taking the seat opposite Zoran. “What are we talking about?”

  “Where we’re going and why,” Karina answered.

  “It’s called Gheenă.”

  “Hell?” she asked, translating the Romanian word. “We’re going to a place called hell?”

  That didn’t inspire much joy in her, and the more she thought about it, the more she’d rather hire someone more straight-laced.

  “It’s just a name,” Isla said with a shrug. “Besides, as far as anyone else is concerned, it doesn’t exist.”

  “Why?”

  “The founders of it wanted to conduct their experiment without prying eyes. Of course, what they’re doing here is extremely illegal, but when you have the right funding …”

  You could do anything.

  “What kind of experiments?” she asked, unable to help herself.

  “The director of the place said he’d figured out a formula to create men capable of killing without leaving a trace, willing to do whatever the person who purchases their allegiance wants.”

  “Slaves,” she said, filling a twist in her stomach. “It sounds like he’s creating slaves.”

  “Super soldiers is the term he likes to use.”

  “And when they’re not being … that?” she asked.

  “They fight in weekly bouts. Usually to the death,” Isla said, her voice softening a bit there at the end, “but if they’re good, they’ll likely be spared to fight again the following week as the underdog.”

  Super soldiers and a gladiator ring.

  She didn’t think she particularly liked the sound of that at all, but it was too late for her to back out of going now. She was already on the plane, and they only had a short while before they landed.

  “What’s the going rate for one of their services?”

  “A quarter of a million is their starting price, I believe.”

  Karina scoffed at the number. “I don’t have that sort of money.”

  “If you didn’t, I would be more than happy to foot the bill, but you do. All of your accounts are still open and building interest daily.”

  Before there had ever been an offer for her to join the family business, Katherine had opened up three banking accounts in Karina’s name. Whenever she did something to please her—whether that was completing her chores on time or remembering to curtsy and bow before the men she brought to Ashworth Hall on occasion—her mother would then reward her with a deposit.

  She’d never kept track of however much money her mother put in there, if only because she didn’t want to be controlled by it. There had been days when it was the only thing she could think about and had gone out of her way to make sure she did whatever Katherine wanted, but she’d grown to hate the idea of being turned into someone she wasn’t for the sake of a dollar.

  It had encouraged her to go out there on her own and earn for herself.

  Which was one of the reasons she had made it a point to only live off what she made working for the Gazette Post.

  Now, this was all she had.

  Another task she would have to get to.

  Karina hadn’t really considered the fact that the life she had grown to love in New York was over, and she had to start over again.

  She had been out of the house away from the little comfort she’d found and the garden she tended for just one day, and already it felt as if the world was weighing down upon her.

  It looked like a facility out of a horror movie.

  No, that wasn’t quite right. The building wasn’t a particularly ghastly one with its concrete walls and looming metal, but it still gave her pause as they drove through the gates.

  Security guards took up the perimeter, each carrying assault rifles, and a few holding on to the collars of German shepherds who looked as if they could attack on command.

  What did it say about her that she wasn’t overly impressed by the display in front of her? Sure, Gheenă’s security was fierce, and there was no chance of anyone raiding this facility, but she couldn’t help but think this force wasn’t meant to keep someone out.

  Rather, it was necessary to keep someone in.

  They were led around the building to a different one that looked as if more effort had been put into its security and fortitude, and she imagined whoever ran this facility had their office in here.

  As the thought filtered through her head, a man wearing riding boots and a black peacoat stepped out of the building with a pleasant smile on his lined face.

  “You must be Katherine’s girls,” he said by way of greeting, holding his arms out, waiting to be embraced.

  Isla stepped in, kissing both of his cheeks before she tucked her arm around his and turned him. She did it so effortlessly, one might have thought it was what they always did.

  Only Karina knew she’d done it so she wouldn’t have to hug him.

  “Always nice visiting old friends.”

  “Of course. You need not worry. Your mother has already phoned ahead and shared with me what you’re looking for. I’m sure you’ll be able to find something amongst our stables.”

  The man certainly had to know they were looking for a person and not an animal, yet the way he spoke about them … she would have thought they weren’t human at all.

  But she ultimately kept her opinions to herself as she followed them, only secure in the knowledge that not only was Zoran taking up the rear but she also trusted Isla implicitly.

  The director spouted off facts and bits of information about the facility itself and the number of people who resided there—currently over a hundred.

  They ventured down one lengthy hallway to another, getting a better look at the inside—finding it was exactly as she suspected.

  They were all fighting in some way, she thought as she passed the row of rooms, the men who were forced to be here. Whether it be each other or heavy sandbags hanging from the ceiling—the men were constantly hitting something.

  Karina wasn’t particularly moved by the display until they reached the glass-enclosed room at the end.

  At first pass, she almost missed the fact that she wasn’t alone, but she did a double take and found that there was a man sitting in the room, his arms bound to the chair on either side of him.

  “Who’s he?” she asked, mindful that she was interrupting the conversation between the director and Isla.

  They both turned to look where she had pointed. Isla with a look of confusion on her face, and the director with a knowing gleam in his eyes.

  “Ah, our best acquisition.”

  He could have chosen any way to frame that response, yet he made the man seem as if he were a thing.

  “Would you like to see him?”

  He gestured for them to follow, pulling a set of keys off his waistband and fitting the right one into the lock and giving it a twist.

  Somehow, despite this place being in the middle of the Romanian wilderness with stretches of snow as far as the eye could see, this room felt colder somehow.

  But that thought slipped from her mind the moment an overhead light flickered on, and she got her first look at the man sitting in the dark.

  He wasn’t moving.

  He was breathing—his chest rose and feel with every breath he took—but if she hadn’t been staring at the physical embodiment of it, she wouldn’t have thought it was physically possible for someone to be so still.

  The man didn’t twitch or fidget, and though she knew he had to blink at some point, she had yet to see him do it.

  They might as well not have come inside with the way he still didn’t react to them observing him. Even as more lights flickered on.

  For the first time in m
onths, she actually felt something. A stir of whirling emotion that was akin to anger and disgust as she stared at him sitting ramrod straight, though his arms and legs were strapped to the chair he sat with thick, black leather bands.

  Inky black hair shielded much of his face with the way the slightly wavy strands fell over his forehead, but what concerned her the most was what wasn’t covered by his hair—but something else entirely.

  “Why is he wearing that?” she asked, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears—the first time even she had heard it without the traces of despair that clung to it. “Why is he wearing that mask?”

  The description was kind, she realized as she drew closer, hesitating only when the director cleared his throat almost violently.

  “Might not want to get any closer,” he said. “He’s known to be quite feral.”

  Yet of all the men in this room, she feared him the least.

  Not because she didn’t think he was capable of whatever had been done to him in this place, but because she didn’t see a weapon sitting there.

  Rather someone trapped and confined.

  “It’s for his own protection,” the director said, the leather of his boots squeaking with each step he took.

  Karina glanced back at the security that had entered the room since they’d arrived—two men in bulletproof vests, cargo pants, and shiny combat boots that looked brand new. Nothing about them said they weren’t more than capable of defending themselves.

  Yet they all seemed to fear the man in the chair.

  “How exactly is making him wear a muzzle for his own protection?” she asked, the words sharp and disbelieving. “He isn’t a dog.”

  The director smiled at her in that simpering way as if he found what she was saying rather amusing. As if she were too young and inexperienced to understand the way of things.

  “It’s also for your protection, Miss Ashworth. We wouldn’t want you falling into harm’s way while on our property.”

  She looked away from him, not trusting herself to tell the man the way she truly felt. Instead, she focused back on the man’s prisoner, a wave of sympathy hitting her despite the director’s words. “Take it off him.”