Dangerous Beauty: Part Four: Beautifully Broken

by Michelle Hardin

  Kyle held her close as they made their way down the hall to the partly opened door of Kyle and Reanna’s bedroom. They entered, finding Reanna lying under the comforter, sleeping soundly, her soft snores filling the space around her.

  Kyle smiled.

  He seemed to be doing that a lot this morning. But he’d come to expect it when he was in the presence of his little family.

  When he made it to his bed, he laid Sofia down first, scooting her closely to Reanna, then tapping Reanna’s shoulder to alert her of their arrival. Her eyes opened right as Kyle was sitting down on his side.

  She sat up slightly with a soft gasp. “Honey,” she breathed.

  But Kyle silenced her. Leaning over, he left a gentle kiss on her lips. It was all he needed to do for her to understand just how ‘alright’ he was after … pretty much everything they went through yesterday. Now, he was ready.

  Ready to lie in the arms of his family, and sleep.

  Something he hadn’t done soundly in a long time.

  Taking Reanna’s hand in his, Kyle gazed into her eyes.

  This was all he needed. All he wanted. His family, his life, his job, and his freedom. Freedom to finally be who he always wanted to be, and he had that now.

  He could sleep soundly with that knowledge.

  And he did … sleep soundly.

  For the first time in years, Kyle slipped, effortlessly, into a dreamless sleep …

  Epilogue

  The cold warehouse was quiet when she’d entered, which was different and unexpected. They were usually all crying at this time of day. Anastacia called it the hour of begging.

  It never failed.

  Every day at around six p.m. they’d all start begging. Begging to be released, begging to be spared. Begging. “Please, Anastacia, please. Have mercy!”

  Sometimes, if she had extra time before she needed to be home, she would sit behind a wall, and listen to them. Smile at their weak attempts to appeal to what heart they thought she had for them.

  ‘Somewhere Anastacia. Somewhere inside of you there has to be some love left … Don’t you remember Ana. We used to love each other …’

  Did they? Anastacia thought with a chuckle.

  No, she didn’t fucking remember.

  She remembered pain. She remembered betrayal. She remembered a family that didn’t love her, a family that didn’t accept her, that had shunned her simply because her skin was dark.

  That’s what Ana remembered.

  She remembered how much she hated them. All of them. And how long she’d been waiting to make each one of them pay for every bit of pain they ever inflicted on her … or someone she loved.

  It was time.

  And she could feel the sadistic excitement racing through her cold, Stone blood. It was finally the night.

  After she’d collected her last sibling, she’d promised herself that she would wait. At least wait until after Kyle’s wedding. After Kyle forgave her and Cesare for hurting him the way they had. And then, and only then would she reward herself with her revenge.

  The night was finally here.

  And Anastacia was shaking. She looked down at her trembling hands with a smile, the excitement she was feeling was almost too much for her to handle.

  Closing the door behind her, she made sure to leave it unlocked, in effort to ensure that everything went according to plan.

  She’d been waiting too long for this. The last thing she wanted was for something unexpected to occur that would further postpone what was to come.

  Journeying forward, Anastacia made her way to her seating area. And the moment the sound of her heels began to echo, was the moment the begging she had been expecting to hear upon her arrival began to bounce off the walls of the warehouse.

  “Ana!”

  “Anastacia!”

  It was a symphony of agonizing screams in three different languages. English. French. And Italian.

  Anastacia had to close her eyes and take it in slowly as to not miss one note of it. It was invigorating, as if their crying, their begging, the pure terror in their voices was fueling her body, and making her blood pump rapidly through her veins. It was almost better than sex.

  She exhaled, her body shivering with another rush of excitement as she did. She was seeing red. So much blood. Worthless blood. Weak blood …

  Tonight, it would cover these cold, stone floors, creating a painting, a masterpiece of sins that no artist could ever truly capture with the stroke of a brush. For, it would be impossible.

  When she was finally in their sight, the men she had surrounding the four of them taped their mouths shut. Just as they were supposed to every time she came into the room.

  Anastacia didn’t like to hear her siblings speak when she was face to face with them. She much preferred to see them suffer, their face turning red, and their eyes nearly popping out of their heads while they tried their hardest to make her understand what they were saying behind the thick tape covering their mouths. That was far more entertaining than hearing anything they had to say to her.

  “The wedding was beautiful,” she said casually as she made her way over to her plush couch in the middle of the room and sat her purse down. “The bride was lovely, the groom was deliriously happy, and they’re gone now. On their way to the Bahamas. It’s the first stop on their honeymoon.”

  Call Anastacia a little crazy, but she enjoyed exchanging pleasantries with them before the torture began. Just to show them how well she was doing. When they were all young, none of them ever really asked her how she was, even when she wished they would. She hadn’t had any friends, so … watching her siblings play together, and talk to each other had been a not so delightful past time of hers when she was a child. Now, whenever she visited them, she liked to tell them what was going on with her, and how her family was doing.

  They were her prisoners, after all. They had to listen to her now.

  She looked over to them with a smile. “There was a dance,” she mused, sitting down on the couch to enjoy relaying the memory. “The bride, Reanna. She wanted a traditional wedding, so it was a big occasion. And even though he was still angry with us at the time, Kyle let Cesare and I pay for it …” That had been a kindness, and an honor, to pay for Kyle’s wedding. One that Cesare and Anastacia had thanked their son for giving them despite the fact that he had still been upset with them at the time. “Reanna doesn’t have a father; he died long ago, so Nathan walked her down the aisle. The two have this sibling like connection, they adore each other … Kyle was wonderful today.” Anastacia smiled at the thought of her son. “The dance, that I mentioned. It was us …” And Anastacia’s heart warmed at the memory every time it flashed through her mind. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier then I was when I had the pleasure of dancing with my son at his wedding …”

  She ignored the screams coming from behind the tape covering Abrielle’s mouth, as she lifted her eyes to gaze at her four siblings.

  “Reanna’s pregnant,” she announced. “That’s another child. Another Stone to carry on the blood line, the way father always wanted …”

  Her eyes lowered as sadness washed over her at the thought of her father. Perhaps he would be proud of her now if he were here. Be proud of how well she was doing, be proud of how she never forgot him, or his wish for the Stone legacy.

  “I want my name to never die”, he’d said to her on his dying bed.

  And even though there had been many instances where Anastacia had wanted to give up simply because she didn’t feel capable of completing the last task her father had ever given her … she hadn’t given up.

  She still wasn’t giving up.

  “The goal now is to ensure that these young ones grow up strong,” she whispered more to herself than to her siblings. “Their parents,” she nodded. “They are teaching them well … And my daughter.” Anastacia smiled. So much pride filled her every time she thought of, Carterina. “Being raised, and trained in the underworld was a nice advantage for, C
arterina. She’s running the empire well, and thankfully, she has more help now that Kyle seems to be taking an interest in Stone business … He’s grown.”

  And changed. For the better, of course.

  “He’s strong. And he reminds me of Alexis …”

  And Anastacia had been surprised by that. She hadn’t known the boy had had it in him … She didn’t think he knew he’d had it in him.

  “He has started to make a name for himself … a new one. One that’s worthy of our father, of his grandfather. I always tell them, that as a direct descendent of a man that breathed life into this world, they are responsible for upholding the Stone reputation. Not the one that you weak ones authored. No,” she shook her head. “I hold them to the standards of my father. Of the best. Of the man who taught me …”

  Sighing, Anastacia looked away from them.

  “I know you four are wondering, why … Why am I telling you all of this?”

  She reached in her purse and pulled out her cell, searching the mobile device for the text message that she’d been waiting for. Upon finding that it was there, she smiled.

  Finally…

  It hadn’t taken her long to arrive, but Anastacia was too excited about this to linger. If they started now, instead of later on tonight, then they’d both make it home before their husbands became suspicious of their whereabouts.

  “My goal …” she continued talking to her siblings, turning back to where each of them laid, sniveling, weeping, and screaming on the tops of the cold, steel beds they were confined in.

  Annette. Adalene. Adrien.

  Alexis Stone’s legitimate children.

  And Abrielle.

  His other bastard … Like Anastacia.

  “My goal here is to let each of you see how it is that I’m going to completely reconstruct the Stone family, after I finally finish wiping all of you motherfuckers out.”

  They cried. Oh, they cried. It was lovely. Like music.

  “And I have to give a thank you to my ex-husband … even though I fucking hate him.”

  Silas Steele.

  “He’s been helping me a lot,” Anastacia nodded. “He took care of your elders for me. Your families, your children, husbands. Adrien,” she called to her brother. “Your wife screamed the loudest.” She laughed when Adrien’s agonized scream filled the warehouse. “Stop your crying, Adrien,” she rolled her eyes. “You’ll be joining them soon enough.”

  She looked at her watch, smiling at what time it was, then snapped her fingers at her men. “Lift them up,” she ordered.

  And the sounds of the four beds rising to standing positions filled the room almost immediately.

  “Hi,” she whispered, when she and her siblings were finally face to face. She stood up from her couch, staring at each of them, trying to commit how they looked, in the state they were currently in, to memory. “You all look so …” Weak, frail, devastated, hungry. “I wish you could see yourselves … I wish you could feel, what I’m feeling right now.”

  Good. She was feeling pretty amazing. Revenge often had this effect on her, but this … this particular revenge felt sweeter than the usual.

  “Does anyone want to say anything?” she asked them. “I don’t usually give last words, but …” She swallowed. “This just seems like one of those special instances when I should.”

  Adrien bobbed his head back and forth, signaling that he indeed had some last words, and Anastacia went to him immediately.

  “Yes,” she said excitedly.

  She wasn’t usually excited to hear anything that came out of their mouths, but tonight could be the exception. Tonight could be the night that, perhaps, they’d apologize to her before the life was drained from their bodies.

  “Remove the tape from his mouth—or no wait!” She said, stopping her men. “Move,” she shooed them away. “I’ll do it.”

  She closed the rest of the distance between them, and pulled the tape off herself, flinching when spit immediately flew into her face.

  “You bitch!” Adrien spat. “Fuck you! I hope you die! I hope you burn in hell for all fucking eternity you black cunt!”

  Anastacia’s eyes blinked rapidly as she inhaled a deep, shaky breath, and wiped the spit from her face, then raised her hand when her men tried to come forward.

  “I fucking hate you, Anastacia! We should have killed you with your whore mother! You fucking cunt! Rot in hell, you and every Stone you breed! I hope the walls of the fucking castle cave in and crush every single fucking one of you!”

  “No!” Anastacia shouted, then she jammed her fist into Adrien’s face repeatedly. “No! No! No!” She stepped away from him. “Those are not your last words!” she screamed. “You are not supposed to hate me! You’re supposed to be begging me for your life!”

  Fucking, Adrien Stone! Always finding courage to spit in the face of the man or woman threatening his life. It was fucking infuriating.

  Storming back up to him, Anastacia grabbed his now bloodied face, and stared deeply into his eyes. “Why?” she screamed. “Why!” She slammed his head back against the steel. “You were supposed to say that you’re sorry!” That he wished he was better to her. “You were supposed to remind me of the time when I loved you before you turned your back on me, just like the rest of them! All of you!” She screamed at the top of her lungs.

  Stumbling back from Adrien, she looked between her siblings.

  “You all treated me like shit. You should be apologizing to me!” She hit her hand on her chest. “You should be begging me. None of you ever loved me …” She frowned, letting her words trail off as she looked over to Abrielle. “Except her,” she pointed to her. “You loved me.” She closed the distance between her and Abrielle. “We loved each other.”

  Abrielle was nodding her head frantically, eyes so much like Anastacia’s own weeping, and pleading the way that Anastacia wanted them to.

  “Yes,” she smiled, cupping Abrielle’s face when she finally made it to her. “We did love each other, sister.”

  Gently, Anastacia caressed Abrielle’s face, staring into her eyes with love that was far from real, and she waited. Waited for what she knew would come. She waited for Abrielle’s hope. She waited for the woman to think that she would be spared, and the moment she saw it in her eyes the smile she wore vanished … And confusion replaced the hope in Abrielle’s eyes.

  “You betrayed me,” Anastacia whispered, her hands tightening on Abrielle’s face. “And then you hurt my son.”

  That trigger was immediate, and Anastacia saw the drastic change in her eyes.

  Only moments before, she’d been crying, and begging Anastacia to spare her, and now. So much rage. So much resentment.

  “You are crazy, aren’t you?” Anastacia frowned, looking deeply into the woman’s feral eyes. “Are you angry?” she asked. “Angry because he’s my son?”

  Abrielle jerked forward, pulling against her restraints.

  Anastacia blinked. “But he is my son.”

  Abrielle screamed this time, once again pulling forcefully against the restraints that held her to the bed. It was fascinating. But even more than that; it was fucking infuriating.

  Anastacia felt her blood boil. It was like a fucking engine roaring to life.

  “Are you angry?” she asked her sister, nodding her head when the woman began spewing words from behind the tape covering her mouth. Sighing, she took a step back. “Let her loose.” She motioned toward her men, then waited for them to do as she asked.

  It didn’t take them long. They came forward and began removing the restraint from Abrielle’s arms, legs, and body, one by one until she was free. Once free, she stood there, looking around as if expecting someone to tackle her to the ground.

  “Give her a nice,” Anastacia ordered her men. “A nice big one.”

  When Abrielle looked at her with confusion painted across her face, Anastacia gave her a wink.

  “Don’t be scared.” She told her sister. “I won’t have a weapon. Only you.
”

  That was because Anastacia didn’t need a fucking weapon. Whenever she was ready to kill the bitch, she’d just take the knife from her.

  “Go ahead,” she waved for her to come closer. “Cut me.”

  Abrielle didn’t move a muscle.

  “Don’t be afraid now, Bri.” Anastacia waved her over again. “Come get me,” she challenged. “Show me what you did to my son.”

  “He’s my son,” she whispered, her words barely audible, Anastacia couldn’t hear them.

  “Come again,” she taunted the woman. “Speak up, Bri. I didn’t hear you. What did you say about my son?”

  That did the trick.

  The bitch screamed. “Vi maledicono! Shut your mouth, evil bitch! He is my son!”

  Eyes darkening with rage, Anastacia took a step forward. “You hate me, don’t you?” she asked the woman, that sadistic excitement once again shining bright in her eyes. “Is it because of what I did to you?” She cocked her head to side in question, chuckling when Abrielle’s eyes widened. “Are you still angry with me? Is that why you put your sick, filthy fucking hands on my son.”

  “My son!”

  Anastacia rushed her, hooking her arm around the woman’s body, bring her body against her own in a tight hold. She gripped on to the hand that Abrielle held the knife with between them, and squeezed as tightly as her strength would allow, crushing the woman’s hand into the metal handle of the blade.

  “He’s my son, you bitch!” she spat through clenched teeth, settling comfortably in the state of rage that she loved so much.

  Abrielle fought against her, trying with all she had to move the knife between them, but Anastacia wouldn’t allow it. She effortlessly maneuvered the blade, turning it back in Abrielle’s direction every time the woman tried to push it into her.

  Abrielle gave up with a scream, falling to her knees in front of Anastacia.

  “Please, Ana, please!” she cried. “I’m sorry. I was sick! I didn’t want to hurt him. I was—Ahh!”

  A screech of agony tore through Abrielle’s throat when Anastacia slashed the knife across her face. She fell to the floor, holding her wound, then looked back at Anastacia right as she came again. Then again. And again. And over and over Anastacia dragged the knife over Abrielle’s back, chest, arms, legs, and face in quick precise slashes. She just kept going, and going until fatigue set in, forcing her to stop and come up for air.