18

Katherine Harrington For three full seconds after the wine left my hand, no one moved. Helen stood in the center of the ballroom drenched in red, blinking as rivulets of expensive merlot slid down her cheeks, dripped from her chin, and soaked into the front of her pale silk gown. Her mascara had begun to run in thin black streams, making her look less like the elegant golden daughter of Blackthorn and more like a tragic painting left in the rain. A strangled sound escaped her throat. Not quite a scream. Not quite a sob. Just the horrified noise of a woman who had never in her life imagined being publicly humiliated. I handed the empty glass back to the stunned waiter. My pulse was racing. My breathing had quickened. And to my utter astonishment— I felt fantastic. Not guilty. Not ashamed. Not shaken. Fantastic. Like some ancient spiritual blockage had finally been removed from my bloodstream. Helen finally found her voice. “You—” she sputtered, wiping at her face frantically. “You filthy little—” “Careful,” Luciano said. He did not raise his voice. He did not step forward. He simply spoke. Yet the single word sliced through the room sharply enough that Helen’s mouth snapped shut. His hand still rested against my waist. Warm. Heavy. A constant reminder that I was not standing alone in this sea of judgmental eyes. Luciano’s gray gaze shifted lazily from Helen to Sebastian, then beyond them. “Percy.” Percy appeared as though summoned from smoke itself. “Yes, sire.” Luciano extended one gloved hand. Percy placed another black file into it. Oh, this man came prepared. I almost laughed. Luciano opened the folder with the calm of someone reviewing dinner reservations rather than dismantling lives. “Since this appears to be a family tradition,” he said conversationally, “we may as well discuss the maternal branch.” A woman near the governor’s table made a choking noise. I followed Luciano’s line of sight. An older blonde woman seated two rows back had gone so pale she looked embalmed. Sharp cheekbones. Pearls. The same pinched superiority Helen wore. Mother, I assumed. Luciano looked at her. “You are Elder Morgan.” Not a question. The woman stood abruptly, hands trembling. “Your Majesty, I can explain—” “Wonderful,” Luciano interrupted. “I enjoy explanations. They save me investigative paperwork.” A few nervous guests let out startled breaths that almost sounded like laughter before catching themselves. Luciano glanced down at the file. “Owner of three unregistered pharmaceutical distribution chains operating through Blackthorn medical channels.” Governor Henry made a strangled noise. Luciano continued as if reading weather statistics. “Tax evasion across seven fiscal quarters.” Flip. “Misappropriation of public pack welfare funds.” Flip. “Bribery of licensed physicians.” Helen stopped wiping her face. Sebastian turned sharply toward Elder Morgan. The room had gone so silent that the rustle of Luciano turning pages sounded deafening. Then Luciano delivered the final blade. “And,” he said, lifting his eyes slowly, “financial sponsorship of falsified emergency transplant authorization involving one Helen Morgan.” The ballroom erupted. Gasps. Shouts. Whispers colliding violently into one another. “What?” “She faked the kidney failure?” “Moon Goddess—” “That girl was cut open for nothing?” I sucked in a breath. My fingers tightened unconsciously around Luciano’s sleeve. So it was true. Not just fragments. Not just instinct. They had really done it. They had really dragged me there to carve me apart. For her. A cold wave passed through me. Luciano’s thumb moved once at my side. A grounding stroke. He knew. Without looking, he knew exactly where my mind had gone. Elder Morgan was shaking visibly now. “That is not—there are nuances—” Luciano shut the file. The snap echoed like a gunshot. “No,” he said. “There are crimes.” Governor Henry practically lurched to his feet. “E-Elder Morgan,” he stammered, sweat shining on his forehead, “by authority of Blackthorn State and in obedience to the Tyrant’s decree, you are hereby stripped of elder title, land rights, financial access, and provincial immunity pending full criminal review.” The older woman made a choking cry. Helen stared at her mother in disbelief. Sebastian looked as though his soul had left his body. Governor Henry, now panicking beyond dignity, pointed a shaking finger. “The Morgan estates will be seized immediately!” Guests burst into renewed murmurs. Luciano was not done. His gaze shifted to Sebastian. “As for you.” Sebastian visibly flinched. Luciano tilted his head. “Publishing grants under provincial sponsorship suspended.” Sebastian’s mouth dropped open. “Public trust accounts frozen.” “Wait—” “Marital fraud under review.” “Your Majesty—” “And,” Luciano finished coolly, “social registration revoked pending criminal inquiry.” Sebastian looked ready to collapse. Helen gave a thin scream. “No! No, you can’t do this!” Luciano finally looked mildly bored. “I already am.” Sebastian suddenly stumbled forward. Not toward Luciano. Toward me. “Kat—” My spine stiffened instantly. “Please,” he said, hands shaking now. “Please, listen to me. This has gone too far. I know I made mistakes, I know I handled things badly, but this—this is insane.” I stared at him. Truly stared. At the disheveled suit. At the sweat. At the panic. At the same hazel eyes that my body once apparently mistook for worth. It was almost anthropologically fascinating. He dropped another step closer. “Kat, come on. You know me. You know us. Don’t let him do this.” Us? I blinked once. Then slowly looked at Luciano. Then back at Sebastian. I folded my arms. “Was I concussed for five years?” I asked aloud. A burst of shocked laughter escaped several guests before they could stop themselves. Sebastian froze. My brows lifted. “No, genuinely,” I continued. “I’m trying to understand whether I suffered some prolonged neurological event, because looking at you now is deeply confusing.” “Katherine—” I held up one hand. “No. I have one question.” I leaned in slightly. “This is what I was crying over?” Sebastian looked like I had stabbed him. Good. Because frankly I was offended on behalf of my former self. I looked to the nearest guards. “Remove them.” Sebastian blinked. Helen gasped. “What?” she shrieked. I smiled. Sweetly. “Throw them out.” The guards moved immediately. Sebastian barely had time to protest before two large men seized him by the arms. “Wait—wait, Katherine!” he shouted, shoes scraping helplessly across polished marble. “Kat, please! You can’t do this! I love you!” I stared. Then looked at Luciano. Then back at Sebastian. My face twisted. “Did he just say love?” A ripple of laughter spread through the ballroom. Sebastian looked mortified. Helen was shrieking now as another pair of guards took hold of her. “You can’t touch me! My mother is an Elder! Sebastian, do something!” “Former Elder,” Governor Henry corrected weakly from the side. Elder Morgan herself had collapsed into a chair, clutching her pearls like they might somehow purchase dignity back. Sebastian thrashed once against the guards. “Katherine, listen to me! I made mistakes!” I smiled brightly. “Yes,” I agreed. “Repeatedly. With paperwork.” More laughter. Luciano remained beside me, one hand in his pocket now, the other still resting against my lower back with calm territorial certainty. Sebastian’s desperation turned ugly. “You don’t understand him!” he shouted, jerking his head toward Luciano. “He’s using you!” I blinked. Then looked up at Luciano thoughtfully. “Hm,” I said. “Even if he is, his execution style is far superior to yours.” Several guests actually snorted. Luciano’s mouth twitched. Just once. Sebastian saw it and looked as though life had become personally offensive. “Katherine!” I waved. “Throw them farther.” The guards obeyed. Helen’s screams echoed all the way to the sealed ballroom doors. Sebastian continued shouting my name until the doors opened just enough to eject all three disgraced members of that unfortunate family into the night like badly behaved raccoons. Then— silence. A thick, stunned, almost reverent silence. I exhaled. Slowly. Moon Goddess. That had been exhilarating. I turned to Luciano. “Did I do well?” His gray eyes dropped to me. A pause. “You threw wine at a pregnant woman.” I nodded. “With accuracy.” A dangerous glint touched his gaze. Before he could answer, Percy stepped smoothly into the center of the ballroom as though nothing of social significance had occurred. He adjusted his cuffs. Smiled professionally. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, voice carrying effortlessly, “His Majesty thanks you for your patience during that brief administrative correction.” Brief administrative correction? I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Percy continued. “The welcome celebration will now proceed.” And just like that— music resumed. Conversations slowly restarted. Servants began moving. Champagne flowed. It was as if an entire family had not just been socially executed in front of two hundred nobles. I stared in awe. Luciano leaned down slightly. “You are gaping.” “I know,” I whispered. “I’m trying to process how your staff turned public annihilation into a schedule adjustment.” “Efficiency is important.” I looked up at him. For one dangerous second I simply admired him. The black military suit. The gloves. The scar cutting through one eyebrow. The utter absence of remorse. Something warm and ridiculous bloomed in my chest. This man had dismantled an entire bloodline before dessert. For me. I leaned closer. “You’re kind of terrifying.” “Yes.” “And weirdly attractive tonight.” “Yes.” I narrowed my eyes. “You agree with yourself a lot.” “I am usually correct.” I laughed. Actually laughed. The sound startled me with how light it felt. No heaviness. No fear. Just pure bright delight. Luciano’s gaze lingered on my face a second too long before he straightened. “We are leaving.” “What? But the party just resumed.” “You have had enough excitement for one evening.” “That sounds subjective.” “It is not.” “It sounds very subjective.” His hand closed around mine. Firm. Warm. Final. “Walk.” I went. Mostly because I wanted to. --- The drive home felt unreal. I spent half of it replaying Sebastian’s face in my mind and trying not to cackle like a villain. Twice I failed. By the time we reached Luciano’s estate, I was still vibrating with leftover adrenaline. Servants greeted us. I barely noticed. I practically floated upstairs. The welcome celebration had ended hours ago, yet sleep was the last thing on my mind. I sat right in the center of Luciano’s enormous king-size bed, legs folded beneath me, still in my evening gown, staring shamelessly at the bathroom door. Steam curled from beneath it. Water shut off. A moment later the door opened. Luciano stepped out in a dark towel slung low around his waist, droplets of water sliding slowly over scarred bronze skin. I blinked. Then blinked again. Well. That was inconveniently distracting. His hair was damp, pushed back from his forehead. His chest broad. His shoulders unfair. And there was something deeply offensive about the fact that a man who spent the evening ruining lives had the audacity to look this good doing absolutely nothing. He stopped when he noticed me staring. “You are still awake.” I cleared my throat. “I’m conducting post-event reflection.” His brow lifted. “On my bed?” “Yes.” A pause. “Why?” I spread my arms dramatically. “Because I am spiritually healed.” He stared. I patted the mattress. “Come here. I need to discuss your performance.” Luciano remained exactly where he was for a full second, looking at me as though I had become a mildly puzzling species. Then he walked forward. Slowly. Deliberately. The mattress dipped as he sat on the edge. Up close, he smelled like soap, cedar, and the faint trace of smoke that seemed permanently built into him. I pointed at him. “You.” “Yes?” “That thing you did tonight?” He looked unimpressed. “You need to specify. I did several things.” I scooted closer on my knees until I was directly in front of him. “The destroying my enemies thing.” “Mm.” “That was…” I placed a hand over my chest. “…ridiculously hot.” Luciano went still. I continued before dignity could return. “Sebastian’s face when you read that file? Helen looking like a drowned decorative goose? Elder Morgan nearly fainting?” I sighed blissfully. “I think I healed spiritually, emotionally, and medically.” Luciano stared at me. Then said, very flatly— “You are enjoying this too much.” “Yes.”