Fractured Devotion (Anastasi Family Syndicate)

Chapter 2

Darkness loomed,a shadowy tide threatening to engulf my very being, as I plunged the blade into the despicable man’s body. My soul felt long gone, a casualty of the cruel hands of men akin to one beneath me. They ripped it away from me during months of relentless torment, twisting their perversions into a sick form of entertainment. What began as a vengeful act against my family quickly morphed into a twisted game, a game that stripped me of everything—not just the pieces of my heart, but my very essence.

I had tasted the sweet possibility of freedom; it had been so close, only to have it cruelly snatched away when he, the only man I ever truly loved, slipped through my fingers and met his tragic end. The haunting echo of my own screams as I helplessly watched him sacrifice his life to save me is etched permanently in my memory. It was weeks later when I awoke, disoriented and broken, in some hospital on the outskirts of Bogotá, Colombia. I’d been dropped off at a nearby village by a local worker who’d been out in the forest by chance that day. He’d found me near death in the woods and spared my life by seeking medical help for me despite the risk it brought on him and his family.

As I lay there in that sterile, impersonal room, a fierce vow manifested. I would have my revenge. My vengeance, born from the ashes of my shattered life, had become my sole purpose, the only flicker of light in a world enveloped in darkness.

For weeks, I wallowed in my self-pity, refusing to let my family know I was alive, deciding life wasn’t worth living—who would want me now that I was tainted?

Then, one night, as I was slinking through the streets, I watched as two men savagely attacked a young girl. I hid in the shadows, fear immobilizing me from helping her. As I watched them use her body for their sick desires, something snapped inside me. Rage, unlike anything I’d ever felt, flowed through my veins until I decided then and there I wasn’t going to standby anymore. I’d finish what my brothers had unknowingly started. I’d spend an eternity wiping the planet of men like the two who raped that girl. Like the men who’d stolen me and sold me for sexual depravity. For weeks, I spent every moment I could learning about the man who’d taken me. I bartered and traded to earn money until a chance encounter with the man who became my salvation—Harlen Drago.

He’d taken me in, a desperate attempt to fill the void of losing his family. Harlen hunted the men I wanted dead. We became close, and he helped me find purpose in the fucked-up world that’d left me for dead. Being well off, he’d been able to provide me with the tools and resources I needed to fine-tune the demon I’d become. His wife had died at the hands of a human trafficker, then they’d taken his daughter, Kate. It’d happened while he’d been deployed overseas. Not even his precious military could help him—deciding to leave the Marines was a simple decision for him. Coming to Columbia to find her kidnappers was his original plan. But dead end after dead end, he’d resigned himself to her being dead and him being too late to save her.

Until me.

Even if his daughter was dead, he wanted to see the men pay. Despite the jagged scar that permanently changed my face, I was still beautiful, according to Harlen. He helped me hone my rage and beauty, turning it into a lethal combination I used to lure men enamored with a woman’s body—their perversions would be the thing that would destroy them. We spent months training with every weapon imaginable, but like my brother, I found a calming affinity with a blade. And like Vincenzo, I was good with one. Seven months later, I was a savage.

I became judge and executioner for the scum prowling the streets for the weak. My moral compass became frayed as the blood of monsters tainted my hands. But every dead skin trader meant more women would be freed. No longer afraid of death, I became the only monster they feared.

A grunting sound echoed off the abandoned building, reminding me where I was. Glancing down at the fat piece of shit pinned beneath me, I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his ear.

“Tell me where he is.”

“He’ll kill me.”

I snickered, digging the blade deeper into the side of his neck as I let the heat of my breath caress his skin.

“As soon as I pull this knife out of you, you’re dead anyway. Give me what I want, and I won’t kill your family. Tell me, maiale, do they know what you do? Does your son and wife know the depravity you crave?” I’d never kill an innocent person, but he didn’t know if I was serious, and his family was the only reason he’d break. There’d been plenty of stories about the blonde woman with looks that killed—literally. I could feel his body trembling in fear. “So tell me where to find him.”

I’d spent the last two months infiltrating buyer events. Hundreds of women had been set free from the hell they’d been trapped in for months, even years. They’d dubbed me the Angel of Mercy—only I was The Angel of Death, the harbinger of retribution.

Still, I was no closer to finding the bastard, Aleski Lipovsky. He’d bought me, then his goon unceremoniously shot the man I loved before pushing him out of the helicopter. The way Alex’s eyes widened in terror, not from his impending death but from the knowledge he wasn’t going to save me, would forever haunt my nightmares. I couldn’t go home… not without being able to tell my brothers that the man responsible for everything was dead. So, here I was, seven months later, covered in another man’s blood, trying to get answers. Just thinking of that awful day, I twisted the handle, applying even more pressure on his body. Blood spurted out of the hole in his neck as he coughed. Red trickled out the edges of his mouth, curling down his cheeks in a river of crimson.

“He’s in America.” The fucker actually smirked as he gasped for air. “Vegas, to be exact. He’s got something going on at a sporting event, then a new shipment of women is ready for transport. He went to inspect the merchandise before his goons escorted them here. The next showing is going to be the biggest event yet.”

Hearing the name of my hometown made me shudder with regret. I pressed into his body, twisting the knife in his throat. His eyes widened briefly as he realized his time had ended. His eyes grew hollow and vacant as the last of his life drained from his body. With a last whisper of parting words, I jerked the steel from his slick flesh and pushed to a stand.

“Fuck.”

I wasn’t sure I was ready to face my siblings, but if that was where Aleksi was, then it looked like I was going home. Wiping the blood-stained blade on my pants, I sheathed it in the leather strapped to my thigh and made my way out of the dingy hotel room. Luring Byron Coltzoff here had been easier than I’d anticipated. The moment he laid eyes on me at the dingy bar, getting him to take me to this pay-by-the-hour hotel had been a piece of cake. And since crime and death were a common occurrence, no one would think anything unusual as I walked out of there speckled with blood. The only thing I regretted was that I’d had to hold his tiny cock in my hand before plunging my blade into his fat belly.

It was the one good thing about being in Columbia. Drug lords and skin traders ruled the streets with fear. Too bad for them. Fear wasn’t an emotion I could feel anymore. After being tied down and whipped, then raped, the things that go bump in the night hid from me now. I sauntered down to the alley where I’d left my bike and tugged on the cool black helmet. Slinging my leg over the smooth leather seat, I jerked the key I’d tucked into my bra out and cranked the engine. The purr of the engine grounded me, allowing me to center my thoughts on what had to be done.

I navigated my sleek, black motorcycle over the rough roads, revving the engine as I ascended the hill toward Harlen’s secluded home. His house, perched on the hill, had a creepy aura that unnerved the locals, resembling a set straight out of a horror movie. The daunting appearance served us well, keeping curious eyes at bay and providing Harlen with the solitude he craved. That same privacy had been an advantage for me, too, as I transformed into someone new.

My once long, brown hair was now a cascade of bleached blonde strands, always pulled back in a tight ponytail. Physically, I was in top form, my body stronger and sturdier than ever, but beneath the surface, I was a mess. My mental state was feeble, plagued by nightmares that disrupted my sleep, a nightly reminder that I was far from recovering from the traumas that had reshaped my identity.

Harlen, twenty years my elder, held a special place in my life. Though he was unquestionably handsome, to me, he was like another brother. His presence was a constant, a grounding force in the whirlwind my life had become.

The only occasion Harlen’s touch didn’t unsettle me was during our sparring sessions. Any other contact was too much for me to bear. The brutal experiences I had endured had destroyed any spark of sexual desire I once possessed. When you’re violated, when your body is exploited for someone else’s twisted satisfaction, despite your desperate pleas for them to stop, intimacy becomes a tool of fear rather than an act of love. The very thought of sex filled me with dread, not longing. I doubted if I could ever engage in it for pleasure again.

My torment had taught me to weaponize my own body, turning it into a tool of revenge against the wicked criminals I hunted. In a cruel twist of fate, the very act that had been used to overpower me had become a strategy in my arsenal. My body was a weapon, and I wielded it with cold, calculated efficiency, channeling my pain and anger into a relentless hunt for justice.

Sex was a means to an end—their end.

The person I had transformed into was someone I knew I couldn’t return from, yet it didn’t matter to me anymore. Knowing the man I cherished more than life itself was gone, my heart had become trapped in a past era, a time that had vanished like smoke. My past had been obliterated, my present stained, and my future, once full of promise, now seemed like a void. All that drove me was the pursuit of vengeance, a quest that overshadowed even my own existence.

I steered my motorcycle into the garage and shut off its rumbling engine. Swinging my leg over the seat, I rose to my feet, feeling the weariness in my muscles. Each encounter with the lowlifes I vowed to erase from the earth took its toll on me. I tossed my helmet onto a table by the door and stepped inside, calling for Harlan.

It didn’t surprise me to find him in the kitchen. Harlan found solace in cooking; he said it helped him escape the harsh realities of our world. His reason didn’t matter to me as much as the result—his meals were undeniably delicious, almost equaling those of my brother, Vin. The mere thought of Vin tightened a knot in my chest, and unconsciously, I pressed a fist against the ache just above my heart.

“You okay?” Harlan’s gravelly voice pulled me back to reality.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Did you find out what you needed?”

“I did. It means I have to travel.”

Harlan paused his stirring of the rich, aromatic soup. “So, Alexsi isn’t in Columbia.”

We had considered this might be the case. What I hadn’t expected was how close his whereabouts would bring me to my own history. I hadn’t been ready to confront it. Staying away meant I could keep pretending Alex wasn’t gone and that my life hadn’t been torn apart. Going back to Vegas would change everything. I’d have to face the harsh truths of what happened. And tell my family I was still here.

“No, he’s definitely not here.”

Harlan leaned on the counter, arms crossed. “You going to tell me where he is, or should I start guessing?”

I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself. Harlan understood my reluctance to return to Vegas. I pushed away the encroaching darkness in my thoughts and took a deep breath. When I opened my eyes, I met his gaze.

“He’s in Vegas. Aleksi Lipovsky is in Vegas.”

“Damn.”

That summed it up. “Looks like I’m heading home.”