The Silver Swan

  4.

  The tomorrow

  What happens when everything you possibly thought you knew, everything you were educated on, was suddenly nothing at all?

  Choosing a husband to bear my children wasn’t easy for me; my parents chose him, and at the time, he seemed like an appropriate fit. He was hardworking, charming, and well-spoken. I thought he was everything I ever wanted in a companion, everything a girl ever needed in one, but it’s only lately I’ve started to realize just how distant and out of touch my judgment may have been.

  Lying Damien back into his woven crib, I hummed to him softly while continuing to rock the little crib in hopes of not waking him.

  “Katsia, there seems to be an awful racket going on out there tonight.”

  I nodded, stepping away from the crib. “I hear that, too. Fear not, it shouldn’t go on much longer.”

  Maree looks at me as if she was waiting for some sort of confirmation. I bobbed my head in understanding. She wouldn’t let this go unless I spoke to my husband, and rightly so. Maree has a new-born baby just like I. And where Humphrey holds his gatherings, it so happens to be right beside her home.

  “I won’t be long.” Giving her a curt nod, I walked past her and out the door, the soles of my flats pitter-pattering across the dusty forest floor. The moon was setting behind the overgrown forest trees, while the ash from Humphrey’s fire hovered through the night like fireflies lighting my way. His words caught me as I opened my mouth, halting any coherent words from passing my lips. Suddenly, I knew I wasn’t wanted here during this gathering, and if he found out I was, my safety would be in question.

  “We kill him!” my husband’s righthand man salutes proudly.

  “No, we should not rush this,” my husband replied. “This needs to be done carefully. I want people to know it was me but can’t prove it. I want to be feared. I want to rule this fucking village, and you’re going to help me do it.” He paused. “Tomorrow,” my husband continues. “Tomorrow I will put my ax through his skull.”

  He was going to kill one of our leaders? For power? Why? What must he need to do so badly that he needed full power and control? Things were spiraling out of control. Every passing day it seemed things were getting worse, and worse.

  They were.

  “What?” I whisper to thin air, trying to wrap my head around the latest events in this story. Why? Why did Humphrey want to kill one of their leaders? To rule? Sounds like mighty big actions for something that is still, realistically speaking, not really up to him. He would have to win the people over as well. My phone dings again in the background, this time ringing, and I blindly reach for it, my eyes still on the book.

  “Hello?”

  “Are they still home?”

  Bishop.

  “Who? Are who still home?”

  “Your dad and Elena.”

  I huff, standing from my bed, and walk toward my sliding door that leads onto my little balcony, pushing the elegant white curtain out of the way. Peeking out the slit, I shake my head. “No, they’re gone. Why?”

  “Pack a bag, and tell Nate to pack one too.”

  “What?”

  “Pack a fucking bag and be ready in five minutes. We’re almost there.”

  The urgency in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed. “Why?” I straighten my shoulders, my eyes darting around the room.

  “Ask questions later. For now, for once, just do as you’re fucking told.” Then he hangs up the phone. I look down at the now blank screen, my eyebrows drawing in.

  “Nate!” I yell, dropping my phone onto the bed and walking toward our conjoined bathroom. Pulling open his door, I instantly slam my hand over my eyes at the sight of Nate riding some girl. “Nate! Oh my god! For fuck’s sake!”

  “Join in or get out!” He laughs, though if I take in the sounds correctly, I’d say he’s not stopping his penetrating.

  I keep my hand over my eyes. “Bishop just called and said we both have to pack a bag and be ready in five minutes.”

  “What?” He stops. He stops?

  “Yes. So can you hurry up?” I roll my eyes, dropping my hand to my side when I realize I don’t care, until my eyes fall on Tillie. Oh no. Once? Fine. Twice? Not fine. My smile falls. “Tillie?” Her cheeks turn red as she pulls the covers up to her face. Nate rolls his eyes, tugs the bedding down, and then crawls off her, pulling his jeans on. “Don’t hide from her.”

  “Jesus,” I whisper, my hand now coming to my forehead. “You and I will talk about this,” I hiss toward Nate.

  “Jealous?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

  I’ll punch him. I swear to God, I’ll punch him.

  “No!” I scrunch up my face. “Get ready.” Then I leave them both, walking back into my room and straight to my closet. Pulling out my duffle bag, I yank down random clothes and shoes, shoving them inside before darting into the bathroom for my toothbrush, shampoo, and all the essentials I’ll need—including my birth control pill. Nate walks in, his door swinging open to show Tillie shuffling her jeans back on. He walks toward the sink and snatches his toothbrush, watching me closely in the mirror.

  “Hurt her, Nate, and I’ll kill you.”

  “Threats are cheap, kitty!” he hollers, as I walk back to my bed and shove all my toiletries into the side pocket before kneeling and scooping up the leather-bound book from under my bed, slipping it into my bag. “That wasn’t a threat.” My voice is calm, stoic. My bedroom door crashes open, hitting the wall to show a fuming Bishop.

  “Holy fuck!” I yell. “What the hell is your problem?”

  “Get downstairs, now! Where’s Nate?”

  “In his room. Hey!” I walk toward Bishop, taking in his disheveled hair, and the sheen of sweat on his tanned skin, and his eyes. His eyes are furious, dilated to almost black. Can this man ever look ugly?

  “Don’t.” He shakes his head. “Just get the fuck downstairs.”

  Nate chooses now to walk in. “What’s going on?”

  Bishop looks at Nate, Nate looks back at Bishop, and then the smug little smile that was on Nate’s mouth falls instantly. “Oh fuck.”

  Bishop snatches my hand and pulls me into his body, just about to drag me out the door, when he catches Tillie in Nate’s bedroom. “Really?”

  Nate looks over his shoulder briefly. “You are in no place to judge anyone’s choice of bed partner.”

  Bishop’s jaw tenses. “Except you and I both know I didn’t exactly pick.”

  Ouch.

  Nate rolls his eyes, scooping up his bag from the floor. “She can come.”

  “To the Galleys?” Bishop scoffs. “Definitely fucking not.”

  “B, you don’t get a say in this, this time around. She’s coming.” Nate tugs Tillie’s hand.

  Bishop steps toward Nate. “I always get the last say. Remember that.”

  “Bishop, let her come. Stop being an ass,” I whisper.

  He looks at me over his shoulder briefly, seeming to struggle with something, before looking back to Nate. “What? You think because she says, I’ll do it? Are you forgetting who I am?”

  “We’re wasting time!” I yell. I don’t know for what reason, but it probably has something to do with how tense Bishop is.

  He steps back, his eyes still locked on Nate. “Interesting, pup. You actually give a shit about his girl,” Bishop taunts him, snatching my hand and pulling me out my bedroom door. I glance over my shoulder toward Tillie and Nate. When her eyes find mine, I mouth “I’m sorry” to her, and she shakes her head with a small smile. Nate pulls her under his arm and kisses her forehead as we all walk out the front door.

  Bishop opens the passenger door to his Maserati before walking around to the driver side. Nate and Tillie get into the back seat, and just as I’m about to slip into the driver seat, I notice the line of cars parked behind us. The driver in the Lamborghini behind us I recognize as Ace, and I guess the rest of the expensive cars have the rest of The Kings in them.

  “Get in, kitty!” Bishop yel
ls from behind the wheel.

  I slip inside and pull my seatbelt on. “What’s going on?” I ask, clicking it in just as Bishop skids out of my driveway. I look into the side-view mirror to see the rest of the cars pulling out behind us. “Bishop!” I snap, looking toward him. “What’s going on and why am I in here?”

  “You gonna explain, or should I?” Nate murmurs smugly from the back seat.

  Bishop gives him a death stare into the rearview mirror. “That night you were with me.”

  “Which night?” I add.

  “The race.”

  “I’m following.”

  “You remember how I said something vague like ‘he won’t recognize you’?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, he recognized you.” He drops the gear into second and floors it onto the main highway, away from the city.

  “And who is he?”

  Bishop looks into the rearview mirror at Nate before bringing his eyes back to the main road. “My dad.”

  “WAIT.” I TURN IN MY seat to face him. “That was your dad? And why does it matter?”

  Bishop looks to Nate again, his jaw tensing. “He thinks you’re someone else.”

  “Well, that’s easy then.” I fling my hand around. “We’ll just tell him he has it wrong.”

  “Yeah, that’s not how stuff works with him.”

  “Well, explain,” I squeak. Bishop takes a turn, and I look behind us to see the rest of the boys following close behind. “And your mom’s famous! It can’t be that bad.”

  “See, that’s the thing, though,” Nate says from behind me. “These people, every single one of them is in a powerful position.”

  “Nothing makes sense,” I whisper, watching the blur of trees pass as we head deeper out of town.

  Bishop growls, his fingers tensing around his steering wheel. “They think you’re someone else, and it’s hard to explain without letting something I can’t slip, slip, but they just…” He pauses, searching for the right words. “They think you’re someone else.

  My body jolts from the bumpy road and I peel my eyes open, a yawn slipping past my lips. It’s dark out, the high beams the only light we have as we head deeper down a narrow dirt road that is lined with nature. Thick nature. I turn in my seat to see Nate and Tillie both asleep, Tillie cradled into the crook of Nate’s arm, and Nate with his hoodie up and his cap shading his eyes.

  I look back to Bishop. “How long have we been driving?”

  He adjusts in his seat. “Five hours.”

  Five hours? Holy crap. “Where are we going?” I question, watching as the forest gets darker and darker and the road starts to look less like a road.

  “To a cabin.” He stretches his neck out.

  “Why can’t you just tell him he’s wrong?”

  “Because I can’t, Madi.” He looks at me from the corner of his eyes. “If it were that simple, I would have done it by now.”

  “Well, I need something else. Because nothing is making a lot of sense to me right now.”

  He grins for the first time since I saw him yesterday, his trademark smirk coming across his lips. “Aren’t you used to it by now, though?”

  Pulling up to a wide stretch of land, he drives the car up closer to the log cabin that overlooks the rest of the secluded forest.

  “Who owns this place?” I ask, looking at how it’s a little on the richer scale to be classed as a cabin in the woods—which admittedly is what I was thinking. You know, the kind the serial killer drags you back to. But it’s not that at all. Even though it seems upscale, I can see how the gardens are overgrown, the vines snaking up the pillars that sit on each side of the front porch. Someone hasn’t been taking care of it.

  “Me.” Bishop pushes open his door and gets out.

  “What?” I gasp, slipping out of the passenger seat. I’m just about to ask him more, when multiple headlights light up the dark, misty night, waking Nate and Tillie in the back. I shut my door, rounding the car toward Bishop. His arm slips out, wrapping around my waist as he pulls me into him more. I cave, melt, or whatever you want to call it. It feels good after being in a car for hours on end, that’s for sure.

  His hard chest is flush up against my back when I run my hand over his muscled forearm, as the rest of the boys pile out of their cars, carrying a variation of bags.

  Bishop nudges his head. “I’ll unlock,” he calls out, stepping backward and taking his body heat with him. He takes my hand. “Come on.” Leading me up the front steps and unlocking the door, instantly, soft musk hits my senses, mixed with old pine and something sweet and… masculine? Bishop flicks on the lights, dropping the keys on the table beside the coat hanger.

  Pinching my eyes closed briefly, I then take in the now bright area. “Wow. This is all yours?”

  Bishop nods. “Yeah.”

  “But is this smart?” I ask, just as Hunter, Ace, Abel, Brantley, and Cash walk through.

  “Yeah, Bishop, is it smart?” Brantley seethes, evil eyeing me as he passes through.

  I ignore him.

  “It’s the last place they would think to look,” Bishop reassures. He walks into the sitting room, which takes up most of the ground level, overlooking the forest through floor-to-ceiling windows that are shaped like a triangle, pulling in from the middle.

  “How so?” I ask, following him in farther.

  “Because the first place they’ll look is your place, and then the rest of the boys’. By the time they’ve finally figured it out, we will have sorted our next plan of action.

  I walk to where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter. “And exactly how long is this supposed to be?”

  He pauses, looking directly into my eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “Come on.” He pushes off the sink, taking my hand in his. “We’ll go up to the room.”

  I think about arguing with him, but figure I can still do that in the room, so I let him lead me up the stained wooden stairs.

  Walking in, he puts our bags onto the bed, taking a seat beside them.

  “Here’s the thing,” Bishop starts, removing his shirt. My mouth waters and my eyes skate over him slowly. He catches my perving, pauses what he was saying, and quirks his lip a little before continuing. “My dad is a part of this… firm. These people, they all work for my dad.” He tosses his shirt into the corner and then takes another seat on the bed. “They follow my dad’s lead. In everything. You can think of him as sort of a CEO, I guess.” His eyes look into mine. “Madi, my dad isn’t a good man. Not that any of us are, but he’s definitely not a good man.”

  I take a seat beside Bishop on the bed, my eyes locked on the wall opposite us. “What does he want from me?”

  Bishop curses, tugs on his hair in frustration, and then braces his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “He’s—I can’t. We can’t even talk about it.”

  He goes to continue, but I cut him off. I know what he’s implying, and I don’t want to make him feel like he has to tell me and then feel guilty or whatever for sharing something so big. But if I guess, then it wouldn’t be his fault. “CIA?” I whisper, finishing his previous sentence.

  “What?” His head tilts in confusion.

  “You know….” I insinuate.

  Recognition sparks in his eyes and he smiles, almost in relief. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah.”

  “Okay, but what do they want with me?” Now that I know his father works for the CIA, I feel more at ease. The Elite Kings, they’re just a bunch of rich boys out spending Mommy and Daddy’s money. They’re exactly the kind of boys I suspected they were. I’m mentally rolling my eyes at Tatum and her overdramatic rumors about them all. Typical Tatum.

  Bishop leans back onto his elbows, every muscle tensing in his movement. “They think your dad is laundering money for one of the major trading companies in Las Vegas.”

  Recognition slips in. My dad is always in Vegas, more often than not lately. Maybe that’s why we always moved? Maybe we weren’t moving because he couldn’
t settle. Maybe we were moving, because he was running from something—or someone. It makes sense in my head, the puzzle pieces slipping together slowly.

  “So now what?” I ask, looking at him over my shoulder. “Is this what you guys couldn’t tell me?”

  Bishop nods reluctantly. “Yeah, babe.”

  “Huh.” I look forward. “Why didn’t you just come right out and hint to me earlier?”

  “Because I didn’t trust you. They—aside from Nate—still don’t trust you.”

  Before I can ask him what they have to do with anything, there’s a light knock on the door.

  “Fuck off,” Bishop snaps.

  “Come in,” I say sweetly, both of us in unison. Way too cheesy. The door creaks open, and Tillie pops her head around it. She’s wearing one of Nate’s hoodies and is looking at me like she has thousands of things she wants to say, so I pat Bishop’s hand and look at him. “Give us a second.”

  He watches Tillie closely, too closely, and she looks back, her mouth slightly open. Something passes between the two of them before Tillie swallows nervously. Bishop shoves past her. Always the asshole.

  Tillie smiles sadly at him with a nod and then takes a seat where he was on the bed.

  The door closes before I turn to her. “What was that about?”

  “What did he tell you?” she asks, her eyes searching mine.

  “About what?”

  “About this… what did he tell you?”

  “I can’t say. Sorry, Tillie.”

  A fake smile sprawls over her face. “It’s okay. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about—”

  “Tillie, it’s totally fine. Was a shock initially, but it’s totally fine. Just one thing…” I hold one finger up. “Please be careful. He’s not capable of the things you might be expecting out of him.”