Page 21 of Beautiful Vengeance

But she couldn’t. That girl was long dead, and only the shattered woman in this chair remained.

“You’re worthy,” she said in a louder voice, a sharp punch of anger burning through the pain. A deep rage she’d kept bottled up for far too long. “And if I could, I’d go back and k-kill those bastards for what they did to you. I’d kill them all, to stop what’s coming. Things you c-can’t even imagine—”

She sucked in a breath, dizzy as the rage intensified, a scream building in her throat her mind fast-forwarded through her most memorable ops, ending with Rahman. Of what it had been like to be at his mercy—though he had none. “Because you matter. B-becauseImatter, god d-dammit, and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’tfair!”

Her chair toppled over as she shot to her feet. She was vaguely aware of the therapist’s soothing voice in the background, of Trinity rising in the far corner, but she was lost in the storm of memories bombarding her. Of unwanted hands on her body. The sense of continual violation she’d never been able to acknowledge.

She closed her eyes and let it all engulf her. Her mouth opened, a feral scream of rage bursting free. Her entire body corded with it, the sound of all her repressed pain finally given a voice.

Comforting arms enveloped her and drew her into a tight embrace. A familiar scent penetrated the fog of agony.

Trinity.

Like a bullet shattering a pane of glass, the rage splintered, leaving nothing but grief and exhaustion in its wake. She sagged forward, her face pressed to Trinity’s chest as she crumpled. Jagged, painful sobs ripped through her, all her pent-up grief flooding out in a river of scalding tears.

She cried until her chest and throat burned. Until her eyes were swollen and sore and she was limp in Trinity’s embrace. Somehow they had wound up on the floor. Trinity was on her back, cradling Kiyomi to her, stroking her hair.

“You are worthy and deserving of love,” Trinity whispered fiercely, her voice rough. “You’re not stained, or broken. You’re a survivor. You survived everything they put you through and you’re still here. And now you’refree.”

Free. She’d longed for it for so long, but had never let herself hope for it. “Not until Rahman and the others are dead,” she managed in a hoarse whisper. The people responsible had to be punished. Only then would it truly be over.

“We’ll get them,” Trinity vowed, then sniffed and lifted a hand to wipe her face. “We’ll get them all.”

Kiyomi sighed and laid her head on Trinity’s shoulder. She was completely drained, too tired to move. “You’re so comfy,” she said after a few minutes, grateful for her friend’s presence. Trin got her in a way no one else ever could.

A soft chuckle shook Trinity. “Glad I make a good pillow.”

Kiyomi wiped at her wet face, a little embarrassed but not morbidly so. The room was still intact. She hadn’t freaked out and trashed everything. “So I’m guessing the therapy session’s over?”

“Yep. I shut the computer in the therapist’s face.” She patted Kiyomi’s back. “You need a nap and a bottle of wine.”

“A nap sounds awesome. Don’t move.”

Trinity chuckled again and rubbed a hand slowly up and down Kiyomi’s back. “You were so damn brave. God, I’m so proud of you. How do you feel right now?”

She thought about it for a moment. “Bruised.” Inside and out.

“Yeah.”

Kiyomi’s gaze caught on the flash of Trinity’s engagement ring. “Did you do this kind of therapy before you met Brody?” Brody Colebrook was sniper team leader with the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team back in the States.

“No, after. And it was not fun. At all.”

No, it really wasn’t. But damned if she didn’t feel a bit lighter inside now.

She toyed with Trinity’s ring. A symbol of commitment and faith. Brody knew all about Trinity’s past, and he loved her unconditionally. What an incredible thought. “How did you know he was the one?”

“Because I trust him completely. And when I’m with him, it’s like the rest of the world ceases to exist.”

Yes. She felt like that around Marcus sometimes. “Why haven’t you set the date yet?”

Trinity expelled a long breath, pulled her hand out of reach and resumed playing with Kiyomi’s hair. It was relaxing. Soothing. “Because I still struggle with feeling unworthy. And that he’s better off without me and my stupid baggage.”

Surprised, Kiyomi lifted her head to look at her friend that was more like a sister and mother-figure combined. “Do you really feel that way?”

“Sometimes. Deep down, when my insecurities get the better of me.” She gave Kiyomi a brave smile. “But I’m working on that.”

“Good. You deserve to be happy.”

---