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Toro, Bergia
Saturday, 30 January, 5:58 p.m.
––––––––
"There's activity at the castle Ragnar inherited," Eli said.
I unplugged my laptop from the television and switched to the live feed. Heat signatures of at least twenty individuals moved across the screen. We had studied the layout of the castle from the blueprints I found online. In Bergia building plans for alterations to the royal residences must be submitted, I doubted we studied the final version. No one can be that stupid or careless. Then again, the Steins had thought themselves above the law for centuries. It ends tonight.
Aidan snapped his finger at his once upon a time friend. "I'm waiting, Szymon. What will you have me do to you? We both know you're not above killing innocent people. What about your own blood? Your wife? Or are they above the law? They sure aren't above mine or that of the rest of the world."
I made myself comfortable on the armrest next to the man in charge, my husband. "I'm going to shoot Ragnar. Because if I don't, the other question I've been pondering for the past week will go unanswered." Rowan kept his face devoid of any emotion, even when I stuck my tongue out at him. "As for Astrid, she'll die from a heart attack upon hearing the news of her son's death. It will appear natural. We won't tell the media of Ragnar's execution. A simple twist of the truth, such as a skiing accident. Piotr can take the place vacated by the one we don't talk about; white will go well with his complexion."
It was exciting telling them what awaited them. I continued, "The princess will die in an aeroplane crash, seeing as she loves doing humanitarian work in isolated places. What happened to the money, Ylva? There are no refugee camps or schools who have ever heard your name, let alone seen your face. As for you Szymon, Aidan will perform a vasectomy on you, thus ensuring the evil gene ends with you. We'll allow you to mourn the deaths of your wife and children and then you'll become an advocate for the rights of children abused by people in positions of power."
I pushed to my feet and walked around the couches, circling my prey. "Piotr, how long do you think you'll remain sane when exposed to nothing but white? I'm pretty sure Ivana and Ivar never trained you for white torture."
"I'll go if you let my mother free. She needs to kill Ivar."
Ivar, not father? "What did daddy do?"
Piotr went mute. The last drop of my patience evaporated. The Glock's barrel connected with his jaw. I spared my fists for Ragnar. "Hey, man-who-likes-to-dry-hump-women-in-the-desert, this won't end well for you. How many times do I need to repeat myself?"
Still, he said nothing. Ylva's saliva ended on her mother, instead of her lover. "You touched another woman? We agreed to be exclusive until we got what we wanted."
"You won't blame him if you saw the woman in question," Liam said, and repositioned the rifle's strap over his shoulder.
"Who is she? I'll kill her!"
I laughed and raised my hand, waving it in the air. "Oh, silly princess, you're not going to pee again, let alone get the chance to kill me."
Aidan placed his hand on my thigh. "Good one, Fin."
I thought about what I said and then it clicked. I had read the story to Ainsley when she had a fever while teething and wanted nothing but to be in her mother's arms. My arms. I stared at the gun in my hand. Light and dark duelled, their battle never ending. I needed to return to the light soon, or the darkness would pull me back in. It was time to redefine myself. Finley D. Williams-Walker. Wife. Mother. Warrior. Sister. Daughter-in-law. Huntress of evil. Lover. Killer. Although, all of my kills were justified and those who would still die by my bullets will deserve it.
"Okay, people, let's wrap this up. There are other evil predators and tyrants we also need to focus on. Is my plan a go?"
Aidan pushed to his feet and stared down at his friend. I placed my hand on my husband's back. A comforting gesture. His heart isn't as dark as mine. "Szymon, we faced war together because our countries are allies, but you became my friend. For your denial of Mikolaj's crimes and for manipulating me into doing your dirty work, I'll never forgive you. Astrid will die, as will Ragnar, and Ylva. After six months of grieving you'll marry your mistress. It's not as if the world frowns upon it anymore; they do for a week and then carry on with their lives."
Astrid's neck twisted and gave away her true age. "You bastard! I ended my relationship, yet you kept your mistress?"
"Calm down, drama queen, soon to be dead queen. His mistress is such a well-kept secret not even he knows her name."
Aidan glanced back at me, mischief and approval in his eyes. "She'll arrive any minute and has received a kill order. One foot, one wrong breath, and she'll end you. Am I making myself clear or do I need to repeat it in Polish?"
Szymon covered his face with his hands. Liam stepped forward. "She's younger than the horrid old hag you call wife now. And far more beautiful. She speaks fluent Polish and is an amazing lover, not that you'll ever experience her skills. The cherry on top – she's happy to chop off heads. Her blade ended Volkov. Would you like to see her work?"
I lifted my mobile phone in front of Szymon's face and showed him a photo of the head and the hearth. Great name for a story.
"Please, don't make them suffer. For all they've done wrong, they're still my children, my blood. You can do as you please with Astrid. I fell out of love with her even before Ragnar's conception."
I tried to remember how many months after their wedding they lifted the baby prince into the air at Stein Castle.
"Five months," Aidan whispered.
I squeezed his bum. He knows me better than anyone and because, well, his bum is one of his most beautiful parts and was right there in front of me. "Is my plan a go, Commander Walker? Come on, I've wanted to stab Astrid since I learned the truth. A mother is the last person who should ever turn her back on her children."
Commander Walker nodded, and I grabbed the syringe from the backpack. I lowered myself onto the coffee table and stared at Astrid. "You fought your way out of poverty to become queen. Yet, when you held the power to do something good, you chose not to. Instead, you allowed your daughter to be raped and her rapists to go unpunished. Your death won't be quick and in no way painless. If I had more time, I would've made you suffer. Duty before fun."
I grabbed the back of her head and plunged the needle into her neck. "Say hello to Mikolaj, Volkov, and Jefferson. Don't worry, their other friends will join you soon enough. Hell might even get a little crowded, who knows? Oh yes, you will, first-hand. And she didn't live happily ever after."
"Thank you." Ylva sat unmoving, not a single tear formed in her eyes.
I patted her cheek. "Sorry, princess, I have no sympathy for you. I told you earlier, you could've used your international platform to raise awareness of the plight of millions of children. Unlike you, when they speak up few people listen. I do. I hear their silent screams in my sleep. Their faces play like a movie reel through my mind every time I close my eyes. I'm a nobody, yet I do what I can to protect them. Instead of doing something good and worthwhile, you manipulated your way through life, and look where it got you?"
Astrid grabbed the couch, then her throat, her eyes wild with fear. She fought for her last breath as the front door opened.