Black Wedding by Emma Luna
Icreep through the giant mansion, entirely in control of the situation, knowing that I have already taken care of all the security measures. Alarms and motion sensors are disabled, and security guards are drugged with just the right amount of sleeping tablets for them not to bother me. Stupid amateurs always order coffees before the start of their night shift. So it wasn’t hard to intercept them.
You see, I have done my research. I know everything there is to know about this house and the movements of the people in it. When the woman of the house goes to bed, she first lets her chihuahua out the back and then takes him up to bed with her. Then she sets the alarm and activates the motion sensors that are around every door and window. She is always the last one to bed.
As I stalk through this giant house, it fucking baffles me to think that the couple who live here have been able to practically separate. They split the house between them, yet they still live like they are a married couple. Going out to events or hosting dinner parties just as if they are happily married. The man of the house does not want anyone outside of their home to know of their separation. People in this business don’t get divorced or walk away. They endure it forever.
This house screams money and perfection. Its large, white open spaces are filled with obviously expensive furniture. The home of the O’Keenan Family is well known to everyone of importance. They are a family to be respected and admired, which is why only three people live in a house this large. To the O’Keenan Family, image is everything.
Every other time I had been to the home, I had been here to visit Vernon O’Keenan. His office is on the ground floor and has its own entrance through a door to the east of the property. To the outside world, it looks like he holds his regular business meetings here for a more personal touch. Still, everyone knows it’s so he can control the security. He had a large city centre office once until an enemy got inside. Vernon has a gunshot scar to help him remember never to make that mistake again. So, despite hating having people in his home, he was left with no other choice.
The house design was done purposefully to ensure that the men who do business with Vernon could be vetted by security and knew they weren’t welcome at the front door. Everyone knew they arrived on time and by appointment only. You mess up, and he doesn’t work with you again. It was Vernon’s way of letting people know that they worked for him and that he would always be superior no matter what.
The house is so grand they even have several rooms for entertaining guests. There’s a giant ballroom where they held parties and an adjoining dining room for dinner parties. It really was the type of house that people literally dreamed about, fucking chandeliers included. But it was all for show. Vernon’s way of telling the world that he has power.
However, the entertaining rooms were just a tiny portion of the house. The rest was divided up so that each family member had their own space. Shona O’Keenan, Vernon’s wife, kept her space on the west side, as far away from Vernon as possible. She knew she could never divorce him, so she kept away, but I wasn’t here for her. The middle of the house is where I’m heading.
I had tried to do as much research as I could on my target, but she has been relatively absent for around four years. Despite being in a loveless marriage, Vernon and Shona managed to produce a daughter, Brianna or Bree, as I have found she likes to be called. So when I was trying to identify something or someone who would be a weakness for Vernon, she is all I saw.
The rumour mill is rife with Bree and her lack of presence in the social circles in which you would expect to see her. Shona maintained the perfect image of a businessman’s housewife who attends charity galas and is an upstanding member of the community. That is the role all women in our world are expected to undertake. I found evidence of her training as a debutante but no evidence of her actually becoming one. In fact, it was around the time she should have been announced as a debutante, basically a rich white person’s way of saying she is now a woman, that’s when she practically dropped off the grid. She stopped appearing in the media and on gossip pages. It’s really strange for a girl her age, living in the high society circles like she does, to not qualify or be announced as a debutante. Particularly given that her mother runs the whole damn programme. This should have been my first red flag, warning me that things with Bree are not quite as I think.
Despite Vernon’s well-acknowledged displeasure that Bree didn’t have a cock, leaving him without a male heir, I knew he cared for her. The pictures I have seen all consist of him smiling adoringly at her, that’s all the proof I require. I need something to use as leverage against him, and she is that something.
Vernon O’Keenan underestimated me and thought that he could get away without paying me. I did the job, now I want my money. He has had ample opportunities to produce the cash, and he has failed to respond. So, I am going to make him.
I continue up the stairs, visualising the target and using my night vision goggles to lead the way. I may not know as much about Bree as I would like, but that doesn’t change the plan. She is a twenty-year-old girl. The chances of her taking me out are slim to impossible. How much trouble can one small girl give me?
After winding my way through the house, I make it up to the landing overlooking the giant entranceway that I just used to get into the house, ensuring I incapacitated all the security I came across on the way. As I stand outside Bree’s door, I take a couple of big deep breaths and mentally remind myself of the plan. Controlling my breathing helps to lower my racing heart and gain control over the adrenaline. One of the first things I learnt for my line of work is that you must be in complete control over your whole body. Having no adrenaline rushing through your body means it will slow down your thinking and reflexes.
Once I am in control of my body, I place my hand on the bedroom door. It’s time to take back what belongs to me.