She couldn’t be sure, not with the way his hair hung over his face, but she was almost sure she saw his gaze dart in her direction for a fraction of a second before he faced forward again as if nothing had happened.
“I don’t think you understand what—”
“I won’t repeat myself,” she said before he could finish whatever excuse he thought to give.
This wasn’t a question, and she wasn’t debating.
It was a demand, and he needed to see it done.
“Surely, you don’t expect us to leave without inspecting the merchandise, do you?” Isla said, wading into the conversation, the smile on her face practically daring the man to say otherwise.
“Well, you see, this one is merely an example. He isn’t for sale.”
“That’s—”
But the director didn’t give her a chance to question it further before the man snapped his fingers and had one of the others move forward to complete the task.
With the way they were acting, she was expecting the man to snarl and bite the moment the muzzle was taken off him, but he remained just as still as he had been before.
“Does he have a name?” she asked, her voice softening now that she could see his face. She refused to just acknowledge his existence with a point or snap of her fingers.
He was just as much of a human being as the rest of them—it was the least he deserved.
“They all have names, dear,” the director said with that too wide smile. “I don’t bother to remember them because they no longer matter. They can be whoever you want them to be.”
“How long has he been here?”
“A young teen, I believe, is when we found him. I didn’t ask.”
And no one had bothered to check either.
She wasn’t like them, she realized much too late.
She didn’t think she could see a person in dire straits and not want to help them. She didn’t want to turn the defenseless into monsters. They deserved to be protected.
“He—”
“Oh, my apologies.”
A new voice sounded at the door—the owner of it a girl who couldn’t be more than nineteen. An odd thought, considering she looked to be wearing a doctor’s coat and had a pair of tortoise-shell glasses resting on the bridge of her nose.
She had a wild mane of brown, curly hair with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
The youngest in this room by far.
At first glance, she didn’t look as if she belonged here, but when Karina saw her gaze flicker in the direction of the man who had fascinated her so easily, she also didn’t care.
She might not have belonged here, but Karina was glad she was there all the same. At least it meant one person hadn’t completely lost their soul in this place.
“No need to apologize, Zari,” the director called, waving her in, his entire demeanor changing. “Miss Ashworth, this is our in-house physician, Zari Antheim.”
“They get younger and younger,” Isla muttered, though loud enough that everyone could hear her.
“She’s something of a prodigy. We keep her here to see to his needs,” he said, gesturing to the man who still hadn’t spoken a word since they came in.
“What’s his price?” Karina asked, getting straight to the point. “Everything and everyone has a price,” she said, remembering something Uilleam had told her once. “What’s his?”
“A replacement.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You see, my jackal here is undefeated. There hasn’t been a single person who could stand against him for longer than a few minutes. As you can imagine, that makes him priceless to me.”
“Your price is for me to bring you someone to take his place?” she asked.
To suffer as he had suffered.
To become a shell of a person like the man staring back at her?
The director smiled, as if he understood exactly where her thoughts had gone. “Let me know when you’re ready to make a deal.”
6
Lies and Truth
Her mind was still in Romania, even as she sat at the grand dining room table in her mother’s home on the outskirts of London.
Karina couldn’t bring herself to eat from any of the selections laid out in front of her—not that she was feeling particularly hungry. If she had a choice in the matter, she would at least be up in her old room and away from curious eyes until she could go back to her temporary home.
“You must eat something, dear. You’re skin and bones as it is.”
As she looked away from her plate and over to where Katherine sat at the head of the table, bringing everyone’s attention to her, Karina was certain she would pay any price to become invisible.
“I’m not hungry, Mother.”
“But Marie has made all your favorites,” she said with a gesture around them.
Except they weren’t her favorites—not that she actually expected Katherine to know that. It was undoubtedly a trivial little detail that she hadn’t considered before.
Every dish that was set out on the table was Katherine’s favorite to make when they were children. Sure, she had no doubt that the food was good, and she’d probably enjoy it all the same, but she couldn’t bring herself to pretend this was anything more than what it was.
A pony show.
The prodigal child returned.
Karina had no doubt stories had been told about her, each one changing ever so slightly as it moved through different mouths.
Isla bit off a slice of chicken. “Karina is—”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Isla,” Katherine cut in, her words like a whip.
The room went so quiet, she was sure she could have heard a pin drop.
“As admirable as it is that you want to take up for your sister, let’s let her speak for herself.”
“And I have,” Karina said carefully. “I’m not hungry.”
Katherine looked as if she were moments from arguing when the twin doors behind Karina opened up as a man swept in.
He was painfully average looking with black hair that was a little too straight, and a jaw that looked as soft as the roundness in his cheeks. That wasn’t to say he was unattractive, but he certainly didn’t inspire a second glance.
“Elias,” Katherine greeted, turning on the act. “I’m so pleased you could join us.”
Almost immediately, the girls at the table stood, quietly asking to be excused before they saw themselves out—whatever food they’d been eating left abandoned … even if one hadn’t been finished.
For that reason alone, beyond what Isla and Zoran had said earlier, she didn’t like the man just because of what his presence caused.
“You’ve met Isla already, but I want to introduce you to my youngest daughter, Karina.”
Too wide eyes that gave him the appearance of being surprised turned in her direction. Even his smile was too big as he greeted her with a nod of his head. “I’ve heard such wonderful things.”
She was sure …
“Karina, this is our newest business associate, Elias Harrington.” Katherine turned to Karina expectantly, but when she didn’t move to stand, she gave her a pointed nod. “Is that any way to treat a guest?”
Before Isla could protest on her behalf—because she absolutely knew she would—Karina forced herself to stand, meeting Katherine’s gaze as she crossed the floor to them. She did as she had been trained to do all those years ago.
Embrace with both arms, her hands resting on the man’s elbows, before she leaned in and pressed her cheek to each of his. Even then, she had never kissed someone she hadn’t wanted to, no matter how Katherine felt on the matter.
“Nice to meet you, Elias. Now, if you’ll—”
“I think it’s best you stay,” Katherine said before she could finish.
Isla refused to stay quiet. “It’s her first day, Mother.”
“I’ve had quite enough—”
“I’m certain you wanted to know how w
e did it,” Elias spoke up, staring at her with a smile that made her want to take a step back.
“Did what?”
Now, both Katherine and Isla felt silent.
Karina glanced at her sister first, expecting some sort of explanation, but her gaze remained firmly on the plate in front of her. It reminded her of earlier when they’d bitten their tongues the first time. But this time, she wouldn’t let them get by without an answer.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Elias was all too happy to fill the silence. “It was Isla’s idea to fake your death.”
“My what?” Karina whirled around, forgetting about Katherine and her newest shadow entirely. “Why would you do that?”
“You wanted to be alone,” she answered, holding her head up, not the least bit ashamed.
Not that she ever was when she thought she was protecting Karina from something.
“Yes, but I certainly didn’t mean for you to do that. And I … wait, why haven’t I heard anything?” she asked, the thought coming to her suddenly.
Though she hadn’t made it a point to watch the news in a long while, she hadn’t been completely cut off from all reporting, and she didn’t doubt that a young woman’s disappearance would be covered at some point.
“I did it because it’s what he deserves,” Isla said, unwavering.
“Who?”
“Uilleam Runehart,” Elias supplied, saying his name as if it meant nothing.
As if a thousand emotions didn’t course through her at the very mention of it. “What does that mean exactly? You faked my death for Uilleam?”
“We ensured he would find the body as well,” Elias added, ever helpful.
“That’s quite enough out of you,” Isla snapped, daring the man to speak again with only a glance.
This was all too much. “Iz, why? Why would you do that?”
If they’d faked her death, she didn’t think they had merely mentioned it to someone, and the word had ultimately gotten back to Uilleam. No, they would have been more extreme than that.
They would have left irrefutable evidence.
Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you murdered someone and let him think it was me.”
“Nothing so barbaric,” Isla said irritably. “She was already dead when I found her. She was around your size and build, and the rest was just … window dressing.”
She didn’t seem bothered at all by what she had done. If anything, she seemed proud of it.
“I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” she whispered. “I’d plan to tell you in time.”
“When?”
“I don’t—”
“When, Iz?”
“When she was sure you could handle the rest of it,” Katherine said, her voice a touch softer now.
“Mother—”
“No, Isla. I think it’s about time we stop coddling her. It’s time she knew the truth about what happened that day.”
A chill crawled down her spine, whipping through her insides until she couldn’t help but wrap her arms around her middle. “Would someone just tell me?”
Katherine tilted her chin up a fraction. “I wasn’t going to rest until I found the man responsible for nearly taking you from our family.”
“And you found him?” she asked, her voice quivering.
“There’s a tape,” she continued, her gaze never wavering. “As Isla said, we thought it would be best to keep it from you for the time being until you were strong enough to process what was on it.”
She wasn’t.
She knew that without ever having to see a single frame.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t watch it. She had to because she wanted to know what had happened that day as well. She wanted to know who was responsible for taking her daughter from her.
“I want to see it,” she said without hesitation, her tone broking no argument.
Karina needed to know what really happened.
7
Avenge Her
“Still watch the fire?”
Uilleam looked behind him, the room coming back into focus as he found Elsie slowly walking toward him, her step a touch more hesitant than it had been earlier when she first arrived.
That was what this place did to them all.
Reverted who they were now to the children they had been then.
Always quiet.
Always careful not to make a sound so as not to attract the wrath of a man who’d preferred utter silence.
Even during the weeks and months that he spent in this place alone, he was still guilty of watching his step—avoiding where he knew the floor squeaked. He’d always thought the walls of Runehart Castle listened, but he hadn’t considered there were ghosts here as well.
“It provides clarity,” he said, not expecting her to understand since he couldn’t even explain it himself.
He only knew that the first time he’d watched Kit build one—in this very hearth, as it were—and the flames licked at the iron gate before consuming the logs and turning them to ash, he’d been transfixed.
Some part of him knew that it was alarming to find peace in watching something be reduced to nothing, but that part also didn’t care.
He was who he was.
“Have you given any thought to what I said?”
More than she probably knew.
For hours, he’d sat in this very chair, considering his options.
Fixing was what he was good at, after all. He knew how to make a murder look like an accident. He could make someone so much of a martyr, they gained political office because of it.
There was no one better to unravel this and trace it back to whoever had been foolish enough to take Karina from him.
But … how could he act without causing further harm? While he was certain both Kit and Skorpion could fend for themselves, they weren’t infallible Someone could target them just as easily.
And what of his sister?
To the right person, it wouldn’t matter that she was distant from the family—that she had nothing at all to do with the businesses he and Kit ran.
They would only see a potential weakness.
He couldn’t react rashly—not again. He needed to consider the moves he made.
Plan better.
Act without a willful disinterest of human life.
Your actions have consequences.
Ultimately, he had learned the lesson Karina had tried so hard to instill in him—even if it had been at her own expense.
“It’s okay to grieve,” she said when he didn’t respond, “but you can’t let it consume you.”
“But she is all that consumes me.” The confession came out in a rush, words he hadn’t meant to say but felt.
He could feel Elsie’s gaze on him—curious but patient. She had questions, he knew—questions he wasn’t sure he really wanted to answer.
Except he wanted to tell someone about his Karina. To remind himself that she hadn’t just been a product of his wildest fantasies—that she had been real to him.
“You would have liked her,” he said, staring down at the contents of his glass.
“Oh?”
“She was nothing like me.”
She’d been better.
With a good heart.
And despite who he was, he hadn’t managed to turn her into someone like him—with a reckless regard for the people around him.
“You have your moments,” Elsie offered with a shrug, “but I quite like the man you are now, from what I’ve heard.”
Even his sister had heard the rumors, though she lived in virtual isolation. “What are they saying?”
“Nothing that would make this better for you.”
No, he hadn’t thought so. “Tell me anyway. Better to know now than to hear it from someone else.”
His father always said it was better to deal with a particular weakness before it began to rot.
“Well—”
“How could you possibly know?” he ask
ed, a sudden thought striking him. “I haven’t told a soul about it other than my mercenary.”
Who, he knew, had told Kit, but he doubted the man would have shared the information with anyone else.
“I take it you haven’t been on Red Rum in a while?”
Uilleam rolled his eyes. It still amazed him that somehow even the dark web wasn’t immune to gossip. Someone out there, protected by layers and layers of encryption, had managed to create an online forum for the criminal elite.
“What was said?”
“It wasn’t what was said so much as the pictures they provided.”
It was nothing short of a miracle that the glass in Uilleam’s hand didn’t shatter from the way he squeezed it. Carefully, he turned to face Elsie. “What pictures?”
She seemed to realize then that he had no idea what she was referring to. Wordlessly, she pulled her mobile from her pocket, her fingers tracing over the screen before she brought up the web page and handed the device over.
He ignored the paragraph of text that went along with the attachment at the bottom of the page before he clicked on the icon and brought the image up.
A dialed circled before the picture displayed a snapshot of the front of the townhouse he’d shared with Karina.
The camera wasn’t the best quality, and the darkness didn’t help matters, but even he could make out the image of himself standing hunched over on the front steps.
His throat burned at the thought, remembering the way everything had come up, but nowhere in the image did he see Karina or even a hint of her body.
Just him.
“This tells me nothing.”
“I’m not sure it’s supposed to,” Elsie said before retrieving her mobile and pulling up another image. “I think the goal was to create speculation.”
This time, when she handed it over, he wasn’t at all prepared for the picture he was shown.
Karina.
She was looking down the street, the car passing concealing most of her, but he could see her face and the troubled expression she wore. She’d been in the midst of tucking her hair behind her ear, another sign that something was bothering her.
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