Page 272 of Unravelling The Beast

Of course, he still has his low moments, but going to school has taken his mind off things, and I'm starting to see more smiles on his face than despair.

I've been attending more Elite meetings, and Carmella is avoiding training me, but I can learn shit on my own; I don't need her approval. God knows how, but the Elites accepted me with open arms.

I've heard that some people refer to me as the Queen of Darkness, which is ironic given that Arlo used to refer to me as his lightness.

In a private meeting last week, one of the Elites mentioned Arlo as "The Skinner." Who would have guessed that the man I adored more than anything else in the world relished skinning people alive and stripping skin from their bodies?

I knew he was brutal, but I wasn't aware he had a preferred method of torturing people before putting them out of their misery. But I knew Arlo for who he truly was; underneath his cruel and hard facade, he was a gentle and compassionate beast, and he made me feel unique with how he showed me his form of twisted love.

No amount of horror stories will ever diminish how much I love that man, and, to be honest, hearing them helps me manage my grief.

I'll probably never get over him being taken from us in such a heartless and cowardly way, but his name will live on in my name, our business, everything he stood for, and our beautiful children.

There will never be anyone who can grace this earth so beautifully and wickedly as my Arlo Hayes, and he will never be forgotten for the rest of my existence.

His death has damaged me beyond repair, and I know deep down in my bleeding heart that he would not want me to be this way, but the day he was taken from me, my life and I were forever changed.

I'll never be the same again; there's no turning back. Like Arlo when Bridget died, I'll always put on a happy face for the kids, but deep within my soul, it will perish and collapse.

A knock on the door startles me out of my reverie, and I sit up, laying my palms on the desk in front of me.

“Come in.”

Dominic, my now-full-time security guard, walks in and offers me a little nod, which I return with a cold expression.

“What is it?”

“We have the girl you wanted, Mrs Hayes. Izzy.”

I raise an eyebrow and inhale deeply as I recline in my chair.

“Bring her to me.”

He offers a tiny nod before heading back out the door, and I open one of the desk drawers.

I reach for the gun inside, and then for the silencer.

I screw it onto the end of the pistol while remaining fully at ease, and then rest it on my lap while waiting for her to appear. I lean forward, my elbows on the desk, and stare at the door until she emerges, a couple of our men dragging her in by her upper arms.

They roughly release her once she's fully inside, and she stumbles forward. Her hair is over her face, her head down, and she's breathing heavily, and I just stare at her as the men go, sealing the door with them, except Dom, who stands by.

After some silence and her not looking my way, I decide to speak.

“Sit the fuck down.”

Dom moves forward when she fails to respond and remains still, but I lightly raise my hand to halt him without shifting my focus away from her, and he retreats.

“Don't make me tell you again, Izzy. Sit the fuck down.”

When she continues to disregard me, I sigh and swiftly raise my gun from my lap, releasing a bullet that penetrates her thigh. She instantly falls to the ground, screaming in agony, and I roll my eyes.

“Finally, you sat the fuck down; now how hard was that?”

I glance at Dom, who gives me an amused smirk, and I motion with my head for him to lift her and place her on the seat, which he does. He tosses her into the chair, and she clutches her thigh with her hand, blood spilling through her fingers as she breathes hard.

“Now that I have your attention.”

She finally looks me in the eyes.

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