Page 20 of Beautiful Vengeance

The therapist made another soft sound. “Was she good at it?”

“Yes.” Her voice was barely above a whisper now. She didn’t feel regret or guilt about any of the men she’d killed. Every last one of them had been evil and in need of killing. But now the feeling of being used and discarded by the government that had created her…that was the hardest to take after all she’d done.

“What about the rest of what you said about her a minute ago. Did she ever manage to break free?”

Her jaw muscles started to tremble, her breath hitching. Mentally she shoved the lid on the vault shut again, knowing it was only buying her seconds, maybe minutes, but so afraid to unleash everything that was hidden in there. “N-no.”

“Kiyomi.” She blinked at the screen, the therapist’s face coming into focus again as the woman continued. “I think we should stop now—”

“No.” She had to do this. It was like an infected boil inside her, it needed to be lanced, drained and then cauterized. Emptied and sealed shut forever, so she never had to go through this again. “I want to keep going.” Trinity was here. It would be okay.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She had to do this, no matter what the consequences were.

The woman studied her for a long moment, then relented with a nod. “All right. Then I want you to look at teenage Kiyomi. I want you to look right into her eyes and feel everything she’s feeling after graduation. Her pain. Her anger. Her sense of loneliness and isolation. Her betrayal.”

The picture that formed was intense. Kiyomi sucked in a breath, her mind screaming at her to stop, her body quivering like a bowstring drawn taut.

“She’s hurting and has no one to turn to. No one who cares about her.”

It was true. There had been no one, only a distant handler who would check in periodically and hand her new assignments. Unlike some of the other Valkyries, her handler had never become a friend.

“What would you say to her if you could go back in time and be her friend?”

So many things. Everything she’d so desperately wanted to hear from someone—anyone—who gave a shit about her. But there had been no one.

“Look at her and tell her what you want to say,” the woman said softly.

Kiyomi knotted her hands together to keep them from shaking, the tension inside her rising, rising. Pushing her toward her breaking point, her insides trembling with dread.

The image of her teenage self in the chair before her was so clear. Horribly, painfully clear.

“It’s not your fault,” she blurted out. “You did nothing wrong.Theydid this to you. Theyusedyou. They raped you. Hurt you. They stole your life from you.”

Tears scalded the backs of her eyes. She blinked them back, forced more painful words out through chattering teeth while she began to unravel inside.

The lid flew off and all the suppressed emotions exploded out. All the humiliation and shame she’d buried her entire adult life. All the fear and uncertainty. The constant, exhausting roller coaster of adrenaline rushes to counteract her natural fear response, and the artificial numbness afterward to bury it all. The terrible loneliness and exhaustion.

“You’re not tainted.” Her voice cracked, grief clawing at her.

It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t fair what had been taken from her, what had been done to her. What she’d been turned into and what she’d been forced to endure because of it.

“Or broken. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Because there’s still a piece of you deep inside that they can never touch—that no one can ever touch unless you let them. But you won’t, until…”

Marcus.

Against her better judgment, she’d allowed Marcus to touch that secret part of her, even if he wasn’t aware of it. And she was terrified that he would see all the ugliness inside her, all the terrible shame she carried from being a government whore for so many years, and reject her.

The tears spilled over, fat and hot as they rolled down her cheeks. More shame welled up, threatening to drown her. Her mind screamed at her to stop, her automatic programming trying to take over.

She wasn’t supposed to feel. Wasn’t allowed to be weak. But that kept her a slave. She wanted to be free.

“Kiyomi,” the therapist said softly, her voice filled with empathy.

She shook her head sharply, refusing to stop. She couldn’t stop now. “You’re n-not dead inside. You still matter. You’re s-still worthy.” She sucked in a choppy breath, the vision of her teenage self so clear, the pain in those dark eyes slicing her deep inside.

God, she wanted to hold that girl. Hold her close and tell her she was loved. That the grown-up Kiyomi would protect her no matter what, be there for her through everything.

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