Beautiful Vengeance Page 6

  Kiyomi took a deep breath, keeping her expression impassive. It felt like she was under a spotlight. Even here in the safety of this private room, with only the therapist and Trinity as an audience, she was still programmed not to show discomfort or fear.

  “In the chair in front of you, I want you to imagine a teenage Kiyomi. She’s sixteen, maybe seventeen. Can you picture her?”

  “Yes.” She was a hardened version of her younger self by then, though not nearly as hard as she would become in a few short years after that.

  “What does she look like?”

  She described her image of teenage Kiyomi. The teenager was dressed in form-hugging clothes, her long hair styled perfectly straight as it fell around her breasts. Her posture was stiff, her eyes watchful. Mistrustful.

  “What’s happened to her in the past few months?”

  Her stomach muscles grabbed, the painful things she’d shoved into her emotional vault pounding against the inside of the lid with angry fists. She forced her body to relax and took a calming breath. This was so hard. “Training.”

  “What sort of training?”

  “CQB. Weapons. Recon. Infiltration.” Plus a million other things, mostly to do with honing her powers of seduction and manipulation.

  “Anything else significant?”

  Yes. The thing that had put that hard edge into teenage Kiyomi’s gaze. “Sex.”

  The therapist made a soft sound of acknowledgment. “Tell me more about that.”

  The therapist already knew most of this because they’d talked about it beforehand. But the whole point of this exercise was to allow Kiyomi to feel empathy for the girl in the empty chair. To grieve for all she’d been through, and everything she’d been deprived of.

  Her fingers twitched in her lap before she could control them, her heart rate increasing already. This was going to hurt so bad… “It was her first time.”

  “I see. Was it consensual?”

  She hesitated. “Yes. Or at least, she thought so at the time.”

  “Who was it with?”

  “A trainer.” She forced herself to keep going, just wanting to be done with this. “The cadre knew she had a crush on one of her instructors, so they allowed him to do the honors of taking her virginity.”

  “I see. And what was that like for her?”

  “She was nervous. Glad to get the first time over with.”

  The therapist nodded. “Was it enjoyable at all for her?”

  She withheld a snort. “No. It was a means to an end, and they both knew it. She wasn’t allowed to feel anything. They’d trained her not to. The most important part was, she had to keep up the act, make him think she was enjoying it, even when it hurt.”

  The woman was quiet a moment, allowing Kiyomi to process that before continuing. “What happened after?”

  “He left her room and went to report to the cadre.”

  “Did it happen again?”

  “Not with him. With others. They wanted her—me, to become desensitized to the vulnerability of it.” She’d hated that phase, the sense of violation she hadn’t yet been able to totally shut off.

  “How many others were there?”

  Kiyomi swallowed, her fingers knotting into fists on her thighs. “I don’t know.” At least ten while she was still a trainee. After that? She’d stopped keeping count, for her own sanity.

  “What else happened during that phase?”

  “She…had an operation.”

  “A hysterectomy?”

  “Yes.” The muscles in her belly knotted tighter.

  “Was that voluntary?”

  “They made it seem like it was. That it was my decision, that it was the best decision to prevent problems once I graduated and went into the field.”

  “Teenage Kiyomi is in the chair across from you right now. What did she feel about the hysterectomy?”

  “Scared,” she whispered, the word scraping against her throat. The lid of the vault was loose now. Ready to burst open. And when it did…

  “Yes, I’ll bet she was.” Another pause. “What else?”

  “She was angry.” She shifted in her seat, unable to stay still any longer. Her heart was thudding hard against her ribs, little tremors shaking her belly. Her breathing was uneven, her palms growing damp.

  “Yes. Anything else?”

  “Resentful. She’s been programmed by the cadre and she just wants to break free of everyone at the facility. Leave this part of her life behind, get out into the world to start using her skills. Start taking out targets, making a difference in the world, as they’d trained her to do.”

  “And did she?”

  “Yes.”

  “How old was she when she killed her first target?”

  “Twenty-one. And it…”

  “It what?”

  “It was easier than she thought it would be.” She’d been turned into a weapon. That first kill hadn’t even registered against the mental firewall they’d implanted in her mind.

  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. They did this to you. They used you. 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.

  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-because I matter, god d-dammit, and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair!”

  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’re free.”

  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.”

  Trinity kissed the top of her head. “We all do, sweetheart.”

  Yes. They did.

  Kiyomi frowned, thinking. “Orphans are too vulnerable. Especially young girls. More needs to be done to protect them.”

  “That’s for damn sure.”

  There must be something Kiyomi could do to make a difference. Help protect them from exploitation. Maybe when this was all over…

  She blew out a breath, setting the thought aside. There was so much shit left to be dealt with before she could think about anything else.

  They lay there for another few minutes, then Kiyomi gathered the remainder of her waning energy and sat up. “Okay. I’m ready to get outta here now.” She stood, righted the chair she’d knocked over and paused to look at the empty one, imagining teenage Kiyomi sitting there watching her.

  We’re going to be okay, Kiyomi told her silently. I’ll make sure of it.

  She grabbed her journal and pen before leaving the room. At the bottom of the stairs she and Trinity stepped into the stables, the sweet, dusty scent of hay and horses greeting them. Trinity looped an arm across her shoulders. “You did good, kid.”

  “Thanks. It wasn’t pretty, but it was worth it. Thank you for being there.”

  “Good. And you’re welcome. I’ll always be there for you.”

  The vow squeezed her heart.

  Together they stepped out into the bright fall sunshine. Kiyomi froze when she saw Marcus coming up the path with Karas limping after him. Their gazes met from about thirty yard
s apart, and her muscles tensed.

  Oh, shit, why now?

  His dark brows crashed together as he stared at her, concern filling his expression. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, no,” she whispered. All she’d wanted was to get back into the house unseen, and here she’d had to run right into the object of all her fantasies.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Trinity said, her hand solid on Kiyomi’s shoulder.

  Kiyomi eased out from under Trinity’s arm. “It’s okay,” she murmured to her friend. “You can go.”

  Trin eyed her. “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. I’ll be around if you need me.”

  Kiyomi nodded, her eyes on Marcus as Trinity walked off toward the house. She slid her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, knowing she looked a mess but there was no help for it.

  Marcus walked up and stopped in front of her, his eyes searching hers, that worried frown still in place. “What happened?”

  “I had a really intense therapy session I’d been dreading for a while, that’s all.” She shrugged, gave him a wry smile. “But I survived.”

  He lifted a hand toward her, paused for a moment as if he thought better of it, then warmth burst through her when his palm cradled the side of her cheek. His gaze swept over her face, taking in her blotchy skin and swollen eyes. With a low sound he dropped his cane and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her to his broad, hard chest.

  She sucked in a sharp breath as all her senses came to life. She leaned into him, closed her sore eyes and rested her cheek in the hollow of his shoulder, feeling like she was dreaming. Floating. Because this couldn’t be real. Marcus couldn’t really be holding her the way she’d been imagining.

  “Brave lass,” he murmured in his deep, Yorkshire accent. His tone and words warmed her like a fire on a cold winter’s night.

  God he felt incredible, the raw strength of his arms making her feel protected and cherished. Safe in a way she never had before. Because she knew that this man would stand between her and any threat if she’d let him.

  The thought gave her pause.

  She’d been trained to be a man’s fantasy, whatever that may be. It was easy for her to figure out what they wanted, and in order to get what she wanted, she gave it to them. While she was being intimate with someone, she shut down inside, disassociated from the physical part.