Page 100 of The Beautiful Dead

I watched as Domino broke him.

Piece by piece.

And when Brock finally stopped begging and started blaming—when the last shred of dignity burned away in rage and terror?—

Domino turned to me.

“How does this end, Remi?”

A gift.

One only he knew I’d love.

I stepped forward, slow and deliberate. My fingers curled around the hilt of the knife still lodged in Brock’s thigh. His breath hitched. His glassy eyes locked onto mine, lips moving, but no sound left them.

“I told you once,” I murmured, leaning in. “Touch what’s mine, and I’ll make sure you never touch anything again. This is for Mom.” I ripped the blade free and drove it higher, right into his armpit, deep enough to sever the axillary artery. Blood bubbled around the knife lodged in his side.

Scream after scream tore from Brock’s throat. He knew this was it. Blood vessels burst in his eyes, but his gaze never left mine.

I leaned in close. “See you in hell,” I whispered. I yanked the blade from his body. Nothing could have prepared me for the deluge of blood that spilled from him.

Domino smiled as I settled on his lap, straddling him, bloodstained hands cupping his cheeks.

“Thank you,” I breathed against his lips.

He traced his fingers through the blood on my skin. “To see you free like this,” he murmured. “Is a thing of beauty.”

A shudder ripped through me as his lips sealed to mine. Lost in each other’s embrace, time ceased to exist.

Hours passed.

Brock took his last, rattling breaths.

Eventually, when the sky had turned black, Brielle came home. Her broken whimpers sent a thrill up my spine as she called Brock’s name.

Only silence answered her.

“Brock?” Her voice cracked. “Stop fucking around and c-come h-here…”

She trailed off as I knocked over a tin of paint from the shelf behind me. Like the fool she was, Brielle followed the sound.

“Brock, honey, you down here?”

I smothered a laugh as she stumbled off the last step, catching herself on a pile of boxes opposite the staircase. Her hand blindly reached for the light switch. The light flickered before it flooded the room, unleashing the horror show we had created for her.

The scream that tore from her throat was almost as satisfying as the look she gave me when she realized I was waiting for her.

Her eyes locked onto mine, wide with horror. “You let this happen,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

I tilted my head and let a slow smile stretch across my lips. Not an ounce of remorse in my veins. “No,” I murmured. “I made it happen.”

CHAPTER 20

DOMINO

Documents lay sprawled across the coffee table, a mess of numbers and names, wire transfers and timestamps. A spider web of deception. So many details blurred together until they became a single, unbearable truth—one I refused to accept.

Brielle was a manipulator. A liar. A survivor who never played a game she couldn’t win. She always had an exit strategy. And now, with someone clearly closing in on her, this?

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