53. Cian
Cian
“ C ian, please ,” Ravenna begs. “Trust me.” Her sultry voice grates against my raw nerves. I want to believe her, to trust that she’s telling me the truth. I know Devlin’s a piece of shit. So why don’t I shoot him and take her home where she belongs?
Because this is exactly the scenario of how I found out about Fiona and Shawn. They were at his office, in front of his desk. I walked in on them kissing. Fiona immediately denied it all, even pretended to fight against my brother. They threw all kinds of accusations at each other.
She said she’d never leave me, that she loved me. While Shawn insisted they’d been at it for months and she belonged to him.
He even called her mo stór.
I saw the triumph in his eyes that night. He’d taken what was mine. After all those years of being envious of me, he finally had his revenge. He’d taken what I thought was most precious to me. He’d won.
Fiona begged and pleaded for me to believe her. She told me my brother was the villain. That he held her against her will.
I had to choose a side. Either I trusted her or believed him. Suspecting how much my brother hated me, I only had one choice.
Like an idiot, I was taken in by her lies. As soon as I rescued her from my brother, she turned on me. Together, they overpowered me and knocked me out. It had been a perfectly orchestrated trap.
I woke up tied to a chair with a hot poker searing my bare chest. My own screams echoed in the torture room.
“You’re pathetic!” She cackled. “I can’t believe you fell for that. Please, Cian, please,” she mimicked herself. “I mean, how stupid can you be? Everything was right there in front of you. Plain as day.”
I snarl, returning to the present. To where Devlin holds my wife against him like a doll. She struggles, but her much smaller frame leaves her at a disadvantage. If she’s even trying to escape him. Jury’s still out on that.
Who do I believe?
He calls her mo stór. She struggles and begs just like Fiona did all those years ago. I swear I even smell her perfume, vanilla and ylang-ylang.
My chest constricts, so tight it hurts. The memory of burning flesh wafts through the air, I can still smell it mingled with Fiona’s perfume.
My skin prickles with the sensation of ants crawling all over my body.
A splitting headache spreads from behind my eyes as I try to detangle past from present, Fiona from Ravenna, and Shawn from Devlin.
My heartbeat pounds in my chest. I can’t do this again. It’s a trap.
No way in hell can I believe either of them. Not him. Not her.
Last time, after escaping them and their torture chamber, I shot Shawn in the chest. Then, slowly, making it last, I strangled Fiona to death. Wolfe disposed of their bodies.
He never pressed for details of what happened. Instead, he immediately got me to a doctor who cared for my infected wounds, stitched me up, and set me on the path to physically healing. My psyche was, and still is, a different story. The nightmares plagued me for years, coming back again and again.
I don’t want a repeat of the past. This time, I won’t let it happen. I’ll nip this fucked up shit in the bud.
I refuse to repeat my past mistakes.
Taking aim, I slowly, intentionally, pull the trigger.