Beautiful Vengeance – Ruthless Legacy Read Online Kenya Wright

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love, Mafia Tags Authors: Kenya Wright Advertisement

Advertisement

I was the Mountain Master—physically strong and mentally solid. My soul, my heart, and every action was supposed to be rooted in the East.

Mountains symbolized eternal stillness. Sacred firmness. People hiked mountains, but never conquered them. They marveled at their natural beauty but could never take them home.

In ancient periods, mountains were the dwelling places of the gods. Now in Christian times, they represented the very essence of God. The cosmic axis linking Earth to heaven.

A good Mountain Master evoked that same sense of awe and power. He was the center of the Four Aces.

The living, breathing capital for the East.

I had to be the universal axis connecting the American world to the Eastern people. I was their first defense against the government and racists, gangsters and thieves, murderers and cons.

To reveal that I was crumbling and slowly shattering was to make the entire East anxious and nervous.

If the foundation cracked, then the whole house would fall.

Already my inner circle was terrified. Chen had been biting his nails, reverting back to his old childhood vice. Duck constantly remained silent, polishing the same side of the blade over and over. Usually, he was full of jokes and violently comical. Constantly, Hu frantically looked and searched around at nothing. Never still. Never calm as he usually was.

I must fix this. If I fix me, then I fix them.

Before my father began teaching me special attacks—deadly moves that were passed down in our family from generation to generation—he always made me climb Mount Utopia. There, I had to sleep for seven nights. And I had to be as close to the peak as possible—the place where heaven and Earth touched. And I always had to take that voyage on my own.

Although I hated those rugged journeys, they gave me divine revelations. I was never the same person when I left Mount Utopia. I was always reshaped and changed. Much stronger with more clarity.

With this journey of vengeance, I experienced the sensation of climbing a high, rocky mountain. But I couldn’t see the peak. And when I looked behind me, there was only a long drop to the bottom.

So, the car ride to the hotel was about recharging and trying to gain some sense of lucidity in this mission of death and vengeance.

But when the Escalade drove off, visions of Chanel’s dead body flooded my head. It must’ve been due to all the blood and death in the penthouse.

Any calm that I’d wrangled in my core, broke away.

My foundation became unstable.

I sat in that seat, feeling myself slowly cracking and then fragmenting into tiny, discarded bits of a man.

There was this overwhelming sense of powerlessness.

And that powerlessness haunted me. It made me feel weak. It swirled around me like a thick, poisonous mist of black gas, extending out and curling around my limbs. It seeped into my pores. It began to spread inside my heart and leak into my soul.

Suddenly, I found myself confessing Chanel’s death to Monique.

I shouldn’t have been so selfish.

She had already been through so much.

But I couldn’t stop.

I began talking to her, unable to be quiet, telling her about Chanel, my father, and Uncle Song. I asked her about death and grieving, and she spoke with honesty.

No judgement filled her eyes.

I’m losing my mind.

Then, she touched me.

This sensation of release poured over me. My fears melted away. The rising force of calm pushed through the darkness like a wild creature clawing its way out to freedom.

And thank God she didn’t stop there.

She turned my hand over and stroked my palm, wrenching open the gates locked around my heart.

Some of my fear and powerlessness dissipated just like poisonous gas scattered from heavy wind. So much emotion escaped. So much so that I had to shut my eyes and fall back into the seat, drowning in this wonderous act of kindness from someone who was also severely hurting too.

I won’t let her go. . .not anytime soon. . .

When her soft fingertips danced along my skin, her soul touched my spirit.

I warmed. Brightened. Illuminated with the glow of her comforting gesture.

Only her fingers touched my palm—so simple, but so damn powerfully therapeutic.

It was a communion of soul and spirit.

I’d meant what I said. I didn’t want to uncuff her. I yearned to feel this more and more. Where my vengeance was a bunch of brutal band-aids over pain, her touch was actually healing my scars.

And she’d whispered simple words, but they were drenched in love and heart-warming promise.

“Then, I’ll touch you more.”

My whole body had hummed.

I opened my eyes and gazed at her.

Something emerged inside of me that I couldn’t define. I hadn’t experienced it before. All I knew was that she was a huge lighthouse of bright love and I desperately yearned to be guided by her light. I hoped to use the brightness to find my way to peace.

Advertisement