22. Alessia
Finn and I step inside the elevator that leads down to the armory and shooting range. Considering neither of those combined took up the entire space of the subterranean level, I’m assuming that’s where he keeps a room for “questioning,” otherwise known as a kill room. It’s not uncommon for men in Finn’s position to have one, but based on the way he was hesitant for me to see the person he becomes when he’s making use of such a place, he didn’t want me to know about this one.
I don’t fault him for wanting to keep that part of himself hidden, but I think he’s finally coming to understand his brutal and violent side doesn’t scare me. He has one, sure, but it’s not directed at me, and I have every faith in my husband that it never will be. That’s what makes him different from so many other men in this life. He doesn’t get drunk on power or surround himself with yes-men. He uses his power to protect his family and make his organization stronger, not out of fear of retribution but out of respect. And he returns that respect to the people that deserve it. So no, I’ll never fear him because I know his heart and his mind. This is a cutthroat world, but Finn refuses to let that change who he is at the core. He’s a good man who does violent things to protect his people. And I love him more for it.
When we enter the armory, there’s a door flush with the wall I hadn’t noticed when I was down here in my exhausted stupor. Finn places his hand on yet another scanner and I hear the locks disengage. He pushes the door open, and we enter a small, dark room. There’s a woman sitting in a metal folding chair and Eoghan is standing next to her. The door closes and locks again. I look to my left and see the man responsible for so many of my nightmares through a two-way mirror. The room that Orlando is tied up in is brightly lit and exactly the type of room I imagined. Smooth tile lines the walls with a concrete floor and a drain in the center. Perfect setup for easy cleanup.
“Hi, I’m Sandra,” the woman sitting in the room says, extending her shaky hand.
I clasp her hand in a firm shake and notice the bruising on her neck and wrist. “Alessia Monaghan.”
“I figured. He was furious when he found out you’d married the head of the Monaghan family.” She tilts her head to Orlando in the other room but doesn’t look in that direction.
“I’m sure he was.” I sit next to her in an empty chair. It’s not in my nature to comfort a stranger, but my heart goes out to the woman who, by the looks of it, hasn’t known a kind touch in a long time. I was in her position, too, and remember all too clearly being afraid of everything and everyone. “You don’t have to be scared. He won’t hurt you again.” My voice is soft, trying to reassure her.
“I just want this to be over,” she says, rubbing her hands up and down her thin arms.
“You and me both,” I reply.
“I tried to leave him, you know? But he found me and brought me back. Said as soon as his old man died, he was going to make me his wife. Said he loved me and wanted to have a family with me. But then he would do this if he caught another man looking at me.” She waves to the faint bruises on her neck. “Why would someone who says they love you hurt you like this?”
“He doesn’t know what love is. He only understands power and trying to possess another human being. That’s not love.” Now that I know the difference, there’s no mistaking it. Hopefully, Sandra finds someone who can show her what she obviously craves, what the man in the other room will never be capable of.
Finn walks over to me and bends at the waist, kissing me softly on the lips. “I love you,” he whispers sweetly, as though he’s reminding me of that fact.
“I love you, too.”
He holds my gaze then nods, standing to his full height. Finn takes three purposeful steps to the door to the other room and swings it open. As soon as he enters, gone is the sweet and gentle husband he was a few moments ago and in his place is the head of a criminal empire.
“Orlando, you’re finally awake,” he says, walking up to the dazed man and slapping him in the face a couple times.
“Fuck you,” Orlando spits, jerking his face away from Finn’s hand. “Where am I?”
“Well, I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” Finn snaps his fingers and smiles. “Oh wait, that’s going to happen regardless of what I tell you.” He chuckles at his own joke.
I roll my eyes. Is this some sort of comedy hour? Jesus.
“But what you tell me will determine how you die. I can make it fast, or I can make it slow and incredibly painful. You decide.”
“I’m not telling you shit.”
Finn chuckles darkly. “That’s what they all say.” He turns and grabs a pair of pliers from the tool chest sitting on the folding table in the room. “In the beginning, at least.” He walks behind Orlando and grabs him by his sweat-drenched hair, wrenching his head back. “Where’s Carlo?”
“Fuck you,” Orlando spits.
“Wrong answer.” The grin on Finn’s face should chill me to the bone, but it has the opposite effect.
He releases Orlando’s hair and grabs one of his hands tied behind his back. I can’t see what exactly he’s doing, but Orlando screams and seconds later, Finn holds a bloody nail in front of the panting man’s face.
“Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?”
Finn gets to work on another fingernail and Orlando screams again. He does this a few more times, and a small pool of blood begins to collect on the floor below the hand that Finn has ripped every nail from.
“Had a change of heart yet?” Finn asks as he walks back over to the table and sets the pliers down.
Orlando lets out a sardonic laugh and that sends chills up my spine. I remember that sound all too well.
“Is that all you got? Fucking pussy,” Orlando says with a sneer. “Hey, I meant to ask. Is Alessia’s pussy still tight as a drum? Does she still enjoy that thing when you—”
Finn’s head snaps up and I catch the look of feral rage in his eyes before he spins to Orlando and begins punching him in the face with his powerful fist over and over. “You. Will. Keep. Her name. Out. Of. Your mouth.” Every word is punctuated with a punch, along with a spray of blood from Orlando’s face.
My husband stops and Orlando’s head is limp, his chin falling against his chest.
Cillian walks over and waves a tube of smelling salts under that asshole’s nose. He jerks awake and glares at Cillian.
“You’re all dead when my father finds out what you did,” Orlando sneers, spitting out a mouthful of blood.
This causes a bark of laughter to burst from Finn. “You think I’m afraid of your father? All this time, you’ve been hiding behind an old man, thinking he was going to save you. No one’s coming to save you, asshole. And no one is going to avenge your death. The Cataldis and Farinas are as good as dead. Your old man can’t do shit to me.”
Finn grabs a large metal bowl that’s welded to a stand with wheels and rolls it over next to Orlando. He then takes one of Orlando’s hands from behind his back and secures it to the side of the bowl with a metal cuff.
“I know all about what you did to my wife. How you hurt her with these hands.” He walks to the table and puts on a pair of industrial rubber gloves then picks up a bottle without a label. Orlando watches him with fear in his eyes, and the gratification I feel from seeing that look on his face should scare me, but it doesn’t. Whatever Finn is about to do to him is going to hurt more than I can imagine, and I’m glad for it. I want to see him hurt and scared for all the times he had me in the same position.
When Finn reaches the bowl with Orlando’s hand secured to the side, he pours the liquid over his flesh and Orlando lets out an almost inhuman scream. I watch as his flesh bubbles and starts to melt as Orlando tries to thrash, but between Cillian holding his arm and him being strapped tightly to a chair, his movements do little.
“You know,” Finn starts as he stops pouring the acid over Orlando’s hand. “It wasn’t just you that we took from your girlfriend’s apartment.”
I’m not sure Orlando can hear him through the agony he must be feeling right now, but Finn continues. “You know how badly I can make someone hurt, Orlando.”
He nods his head toward the mirror and Sandra stands.
“Remember what we talked about,” Eoghan tells her.
Sandra nods, and Eoghan opens the door, grabs her by the arm, and shoves her into the room with a gun pointed at her head. My first instinct is to get up and yell at them to let her go, that she’s a victim in this, same as I was. But then I look into my husband’s eyes. He’s staring into the mirror, and even though I know he can’t see me, it’s as though he’s looking right at me, begging me to trust him. I take a deep breath and Finn turns toward Orlando.
“I want to know where Carlo is. For every minute you don’t give me an answer, I’m going to remove a body part from your girlfriend. Could be a nail, could be a finger, could be her entire hand.”
Orlando looks at Sandra, then Finn, but he refuses to say anything.
Finn looks at Cillian. “Get the pliers.”
Sandra lets out a bloodcurdling scream and fights in Eoghan’s hold.
“If you don’t give me what I want, Orlando, we won’t stop with your little girlfriend. I’ll send my men to your house and take your little sister. Maybe let them have some fun with her before I do to her what I’m more than happy to do to Sandra. You know, just to show you the pain I can put someone through before their body gives up.” Finn’s voice is colder than I’ve ever heard, and I have to keep telling myself that this is a show to get Orlando to talk because fuck, my husband is convincing.
Orlando’s pained breathing is heavy as he watches Cillian walk over to the table. When he turns with the pliers in his hand, Orlando breaks.
“Stop! Stop!” Orlando yells. “Fuck. I’ll tell you what I know. She doesn’t have any part in this.”
“Tell me!” Finn hollers.
“Okay. Fuck. Okay. He’s trying to partner with the Russians. He had it all set up before his dad went to prison, but he fucked up when he went after the Black Roses and the prosecutor. The Russians didn’t want that shit hanging over them. He’s been trying to sweeten the deal and even offered his sister to the pakhan’s son. I don’t know. He’s been in New York at one of their safe houses. He said if I could help him take you out and drum up support from his father’s capos and mine, he would make sure I have a seat at the table. They want Boston and the rest of Massachusetts, and they want you out of the way.”
“Do you know exactly where he is?”
“No, I swear I don’t. He wouldn’t tell me. He knows the Russians’ goodwill is only going to last for so long before they turn their back on him. He could be anywhere by now.” Orlando looks at his girlfriend then back to Finn. “Please let her go. She can’t do anything to you.”
Finn nods at Sandra, who, up until now, has been whimpering and crying while Eoghan keeps a strong hold on her. Eoghan drops his hand and Sandra straightens, wiping the tears from her eyes. She gives Orlando a hard stare and walks closer to him.
“Fuck you,” she says and spits in his face. “I only hope they make you suffer more before you burn in hell.” She turns on her heels, and Eoghan opens the door to the room I’m waiting in before she stomps away from Orlando.
I stand from my seat, looking at the woman in awe. “Damn, you’re one hell of an actress,” I tell her.
“Oh my God,” she says, breathing heavily. “That felt so good.” Her hand rests on her chest as she sits in a chair. I watch her for a few moments, expecting…I don’t know, a breakdown of some sort. She’s been sitting in here watching a man being tortured, after all. Instead, her head tilts toward the ceiling as she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes with a serene smile playing on her lips. My God, what did he put her through?
“Come on, sis. Finn is ready for you.” Eoghan is waiting on the threshold to the other room.
I turn to the door and take a breath, stepping through into the bright room. Orlando spots me but doesn’t say anything, looking defeated where he sits. It’s odd seeing him like that. All the bravado and self-confidence he possessed is now washed away. All that’s left is a sniveling, powerless man tied to a chair who’s about to die. I once loved him. Once thought I’d marry him, but he took that love and devotion and twisted it into something painful. Now, the only thing I want is to wipe his existence from this planet.
“Alessia,” Finn calls.
I walk to meet him as he stands in front of the table, the gun he took from me sitting right there.
“You don’t have to do this. I’d be more than happy to kill him for you,” he says softly.
I look my husband dead in the eye. “His death is mine.”
Finn nods and hands me the gun. He turns and faces Orlando, who is barely conscious at this point and stands with his legs spread and his arms crossed over his chest. Cillian and Eoghan mirror his stance, simply waiting in silent support for me to finish it.
Walking up to Orlando with the gun in my hand, I stand still for a few moments and study him. There are so many things I could say. I could tell him all the ways he hurt me, all the ways he nearly destroyed me before taking my brother’s life and nearly ending Enzo’s. But what would be the point? It’s not as though he would care. Monsters don’t care about the people they hurt. They only want to devour and destroy.
“I bet you never thought we’d be here, did you, Orlando?”
When his eyes meet mine, there’s no regret in them. Only anger because he knows this is the end and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.
“Bet this really pisses you off. You couldn’t destroy me, and now you’re going to your death knowing no one will mourn you. You failed. You’re a weak piece of shit, and now you’ll die powerless in your own snot and tears. So, fuck you, Orlando.” I raise the gun. “This is for Gio and Enzo.” I pull the trigger, and brain matter splatters behind him, the bullet exploding the back of his skull.
Everyone in the room is silent. I stare at his lifeless body. I don’t know what I expected to feel after taking a man’s life, but it wasn’t the relief coursing through me. Finn is the first to move, coming to stand next to me. He takes the gun from my grip and puts his arm around my waist. “Come on, wife. Let’s go upstairs.”
I nod and allow him to lead me through the room where Sandra is smiling at me and back to the elevator to take us to the penthouse.
When we get upstairs, Finn walks to the kitchen and pours a glass of whiskey before handing it to me. I’ve come to appreciate his taste in alcohol during our time together. I sip from the glass and let the rich, smoky vanilla notes roll over my tongue before swallowing.
My husband lays the gun on the counter and looks at me. “You okay?”
I consider his question. For all intents and purposes, I should be anything but. I just took a man’s life and feel zero remorse. Just the opposite, actually. Then I remember what he did to me, the fact he killed my brother and nearly killed one of my oldest friends. He was going to take me and do God knows what to get to my husband and most likely kill him, too. So, no, there is no regret, only satisfaction that he’s finally burning in hell where he belongs.
“I’m fine. Honestly.” My hand covers Finn’s, and I catch the wince. I look down and see his knuckles bloody and torn apart.
“Jesus Christ, Finn. Why didn’t you use brass knuckles or something? Your hand is a mess.”
I move around him and start looking through the cupboards. “Where the hell is your first aid kit?”
He opens the cabinet door where he pulled the bottle of whiskey from earlier and grabs the blue box. Opening it, I find various wipes, gauze, and bandages, along with a small bottle of rubbing alcohol.
“That’s a stupid place for a first aid kit.”
Finn smirks as I start taking out what I need. “Actually, it’s the perfect place for it. If I’m bleeding and need the kit, I usually need a drink as well. Saves steps and all that.”
I roll my eyes and pour some alcohol on the gauze before pressing it to his knuckles. He lets out a hiss, and I shoot him a bland look.
“Really? I just watched you melt someone’s skin from their hand and a little alcohol on your cut hurts?”
“It fucking stings. I’m man enough to admit that.”
A smile plays on my lips as I shake my head a bit but continue to clean his hand.
“You were magnificent.” He says the words with a reverence I haven’t heard from him before.
I raise my eyes to Finn’s and meet his emotion-filled gaze. I’m not sure if he means when I killed Orlando, me not flinching at his rather creative torture techniques, or my impressive first aid skills. Knowing him, it could be any of them, so I simply say, “Thank you.”
I finish bandaging him and put the first aid kit back in its stupid storage place. “Do you think it’s over? That they won’t come after us again now that Orlando’s dead?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure what’s going to happen next, but no, I don’t think it’s over, baby. Not by a long shot.”