16. Chapter 16 Cara
Chapter 16: Cara
T he journey back to the compound was a blur of pain and exhaustion, my battered body cradled against Finn's chest as he carried me out of that dank basement. He brought me home. Carried me straight to my bathroom.
He set me down on the cool marble tiles and began to strip away the blanket that someone had place over me. Finn turned on the shower, testing the temperature with the inside of his wrist before turning back to me. His eyes were soft and sad, filled with a tender sort of anguish that made my heart clench.
"Let's get you cleaned up, princess," he murmured, his brogue thicker than usual with suppressed emotion.
I let him guide me under the spray, let him take my weight when my knees buckled and threatened to give out. He washed me with infinite care, his hands gentle as he soaped away the blood and grime. He talked to me in a low, soothing rumble of Gaelic that settled over me like a balm.
When I was clean, when the water sluicing off my body finally ran clear instead of pink, Finn shut off the tap and bundled me into a fluffy towel. He dried me with the same tender care, his touch feather-light as he dabbed at the myriad cuts and abrasions littering my skin.
Then he carried me to the bed, laying me down on the soft sheets. I wanted to reach for him, to draw him down beside me and burrow into the solid warmth of his body. But exhaustion was dragging at my limbs. Finn brushed a kiss across my forehead, his lips lingering.
"Rest now, princess. The doctor will be here soon. I won't be far."
I wanted to protest, to beg him to stay. But oblivion was rising up to claim me, the events of the past hours finally catching up with merciless intensity. The last thing I saw before my eyes fluttered shut was Finn's face and I felt at peace.
I woke to the murmur of voices and the sting of antiseptic, my body throbbing with the dull, persistent ache of my broken body. I blinked groggily, trying to focus on the blurry figures hovering over me.
"There you are, princess." Finn's voice, low and soothing in my ear. "The doctor's just finishing up. You were out like a light, didn't even flinch when he stitched up the worst of it."
Stitched. Yes, I could feel them now, the tight, itchy pull of surgical thread knitting my flesh back together. How many, I wondered bleakly. How many gashes and gouges, how many tears in my most intimate places, from rough hands and vicious teeth and-
"Miss Maguire." The doctor's clipped, professional tones cut through the rising tide of panic, dragging me back to the present. "I've done what I can for the external injuries, but I'm afraid there was significant internal trauma as well. I need to do a more through exam soon, but you should heal. Physically.”
I stared at him blankly, the words taking a moment to penetrate the fog of drugs and lingering shock. When they did, when their cold, clinical meaning sank in, it felt like the floor had dropped out from under me.
"Are you saying..." My voice cracked, rusty with disuse and unshed tears. "Are you saying the internal damage means what exactly?”
The doctor's face softened, something like pity flickering in his eyes. "It's impossible to say for certain, but given the extent of the damage... conception would be very difficult. But I will know more when I am able to do a more thorough examination."
A keening noise escaped me, a wounded animal sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep in my chest. Finn's arms tightened around me, his own breathing ragged and uneven. I wanted to scream. Wanted to rage and sob and fucking break something, this final, cruel twist of the knife almost worse than anything Mikhail and his brothers had done to me. They'd taken so much already, ripped away pieces of my soul that I'd never get back. And now this, this last, fundamental theft.
I had to stop. Had to become strong so this never happens to anyone else I knew. I simply nodded, numb and distant, as the doctor murmured a few more instructions to Finn before taking his leave.
Finn gathered me closer, his lips pressing against my hair. " I'm fucking sorry."
I shook my head, burrowing deeper into his embrace. "Not your fault," I mumbled, my voice muffled by his chest. "Not anyone's fault but those soulless bastards."
"I should have gotten there sooner," he whispered, self-loathing thick in his tone. "Should have torn apart the fucking world to find you before they could..."
"Stop." I pulled back to look at him, my hands framing his face. "You saved me, Finn. In every way a person can be saved. Don't you dare blame yourself for the things those animals did."
He searched my gaze, his own eyes haunted and filled with a pain that echoed my own. "I just want to fix it. Want to take away every hurt, every horrible memory."
He would shoulder the weight of the world, to shield me from what has just happened. What he didn’t realize was this was something I had to do alone.
***
The nightmares came next. Night after night I woke up screaming, thrashing in the tangled sheets as the memories crashed over me in a nauseating wave. Cruel hands and leering faces, pain and humiliation and a despair so bleak it stole the breath from my lungs. Finn held me through the worst of it. He whispered words of comfort, of love and reassurance, never flinching away from the broken, ugly thing I'd become. But he wouldn't touch me beyond that. Wouldn't let his hands stray below my waist or his lips taste any skin but my forehead and tearstained cheeks. And I knew he was trying to be respectful, to give me space to heal from the violations I'd endured.
But god, how I wished he would just fuck the memories right out of me sometimes. Wished he would cover me with his body and erase every touch, every sick caress, until all I knew was him. Until all I could feel was pleasure and love and the sweet ache of being filled by the man I adored.
But it wasn't that simple. I needed to heal, in my mind and my soul as much as my body. I did the only thing I could. I poured all my rage, all my pain into the only outlet I had left. The sprawling criminal empire that my father's death had left leaderless and adrift. I was the Queen now, hardened from my own personal hell. And I would destroy anyone who dared stand in my way, who threatened what was mine. I knew it wouldn't erase the scars on my body or mind, but it was a start.
Finn stood as my second and bit by bit, a few months past and the nightmares started to slowly go. He slept beside me each night. I could feel his heat and his body craving me, but he didn’t make a move.
It was up to me.
The next night, as I woke from one recurring nightmare that wouldn’t leave me, I asked Finn for the one thing I needed to be whole again. My throat raw from screaming and my skin clammy with cold sweat, I rolled over to face him and pressed my lips to his.
"Make me forget," I whispered against his mouth, my fingers tangling in his sleep-mussed hair. "Make it so I can only feel you, only remember your touch on my skin."
He groaned, a helpless, agonized sound. "Cara... I don't want to hurt you. Don't want to push for more than you're ready to give."
"You could never hurt me." I caught his hand, guided it to my breast. "Please, Finn. I need you to chase away the ghosts. Need you to fill me until there's no room for anything else."
He shuddered, his fingers flexing against my flesh. I could see the struggle in his eyes, the desperate desire warring with the fear of causing me more pain. But in the end, the need won out.
His mouth came down on mine, hot and sweet and achingly tender. And as his hands began to map my body, as his lips blazed a trail of fire along my jaw and down my throat, I felt something ease in my chest. Felt the terror being chased away by Finn’s touch.
It wasn't a cure-all. I knew I had a long road ahead of me, a lifetime of wrestling with the demons those monsters had planted in my head. But here, now, with Finn's touch gentling away the jagged edges of my trauma, I could almost believe I would be whole again someday.