Page 140 of The Beautiful Dead

“N-not gonna last… p-please,” I whimpered, voice fractured, hands clutching at the only thing grounding me to this world.

Him.

Always him.

Domino’s breath ghosted over my lips, a cruel whisper of salvation before the fall. “Come for me,piccolo agnello.”

His voice was my undoing. The words shattered something inside me, ripped me apart from the inside out, and launched me into a freefall of pure euphoria.

White-hot bliss detonated in my veins, my body convulsing, spiraling, lost to the abyss. And when Domino came, when he roared his climax into the black, starless sky, flooding me with everything he was, I let him take me under.

We had found each other in blood.

And in blood, we would stay.

CHAPTER 26

DOMINO

“Is it done?”

“Yeah, Boss. The paperwork’s finalized. Upon Brielle Cain’s passing, Hollow Pines Care Home is legally Remi’s. Arthur Doyle will be instated as manager. He’ll oversee everything.”

Ghost chuckled down the line, low and knowing. “I’m surprised you let her live this long…”

“It was Remi’s decision.” My jaw ticked, fingers tightening around the phone. “He wanted her there as long as his mom was alive. But now that she’s gone, it’s time for Brielle to pay.”

“She won’t be missed,” Ghost scoffed. “Hell, he’s not the only one glad that bitch is dead. She was a fucking nightmare?—”

“She was.” I cut him off before his rant could gain momentum. “Make sure Arti is notified and prepared. I want this transition to be seamless. Remi doesn’t need to concern himself with any of it.”

“Boss.”

“Federico?”

“Still nothing,” Ghost muttered, irritation thick in his voice. Then, with a sharp inhale, his tone shifted—smug, almost entertained. “Have you seen the news?”

“No.”

“The casino suffered a gas leak last night. Went up in flames and was razed to the ground. Three fire crews are still fighting to get the blaze under control.”

“Good.”

That place was Federico’s pride and joy. I wish I could’ve seen his face when he turned on the news this morning. Everything was falling into place.

One more move. One final checkmate, and I would gut my father. Make him suffer the way he made me suffer for years, until he broke me. Turned me into what I am today.

The distant murmur of a reporter’s voice drifted from the TV down the phone line, detailing the catastrophe that had rocked Marlow Heights to its core. I leaned against the counter, letting my lips curl in satisfaction.

They called it a tragedy.

I called it foreplay.

“One last thing,” I muttered. “Remi’s trust fund?”

“Taken care of. He gets everything on his twenty-first birthday.”

“Good.”

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