Chapter 10 Caroline
CAROLINE
I’m exhausted when the driver drops me back at Finn’s apartment.
This was always the agreement. We’d live here from now on, starting tonight. I have movers coming with all my stuff in the morning paid for by Finn. Or at least I assume that’s still the case.
I wouldn’t know, because my husband ditched me.
The second I’m inside, I take off my stupid shoes. I toss them to the side. I storm into the kitchen, find a bottle of prosecco, and crack it open. The cork comes out with a pop. I pour a big glass and drink it down, struggling to keep myself under control.
How did my life end up like this? A few weeks ago, I was living on my own. I was cleaning this place and struggling to make ends meet, but at least I had my own space and I was doing my best. Nobody told me what to do. Nobody threatened to hurt me. I was free for a while.
But that was always an illusion. I was free because my father let me.
Now I’m something else.
Trapped in a new hell.
I refill my glass. I’m about to drink the whole damn bottle when I hear a noise upstairs.
I stomp toward it, gripping the neck of the bottle in my left fist. If that’s Finn, I’m going to break it over his head.
I’m going to brain him and beat him until he’s twitching meat.
That’s probably not the best way to start a marriage, but to hell with it.
I chug the glass and leave it behind. The bottle’s good enough. I drink right from the end as I kick open the door to the swimming pool. I expect to find him floating in the water, but instead he’s standing at the far side of the room, past the deep end, staring out over the city.
It’s a beautiful night. The view is breathtaking.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t try my hardest to drown you,” I say acidly, taking another drink. I’m going to be very drunk very shortly.
Finn half turns. He’s still in his suit, but the shirt’s unbuttoned, showing off his chest. So many scars, so many tattoos. He’s got a crystal glass of whiskey in one hand. He swirls it, frowning at me. The moon’s big and bright behind him, wreathing his face in shadow.
“How was the reception?”
“You bastard. You left me there.” I take another drink. “I should throw you through that glass.”
“It’s bulletproof. Good luck with that.”
I make a disgusted noise. “Aren’t you embarrassed? You left your own wife on your wedding night.”
He seems thoughtful and finally looks away. “If I’m sorry at all, it’s that you had to deal with your family alone.”
That brings me up short. I’m frowning slightly. “My family? Who cares about them. There were like hundreds of strangers!”
“True, but you don’t hate them the way you hate your brothers.”
I let out a derisive laugh. “You don’t know a damn thing about how I feel.”
“I think I do.” He turns to me again and comes around the pool, the glass dangling at his side. “I think I know better than anyone else in the world.”
The humidity and warmth of the room feels like it’s choking me. I drink more prosecco but that doesn’t help. The alcohol only makes me dizzy and lightheaded. I feel fuzzy, like I’m flying away.
“How’d you get those scars, Finn?” I ask, looking at his chest, at the horribly familiar constellation of ruined flesh. “You wanna talk about it?”
“How about we talk about you some more. Let’s talk about the way you’ve been running from your family all your life. The way you’ve been hiding. I see how you look at them. I know how your father looks at you. What did they do to you, Caroline?”
“Go to hell. You left me tonight. You’re a dick.”
“You’re right. I’m a very bad person.” He stops about ten feet away.
I’m trembling. I take another big drink and I really should stop.
“I’m a fucked-up monster. But you know that already.
You’ve seen your fair share of fucked-up monsters all your life and you know them better than anyone. Isn’t that right?”
I take another drink. “I don’t understand why you keep acting like you know me.”
His smile is infuriating. “I know you don’t want to be married to me. I don’t want to be married to you either. I’ve been here thinking about our situation, and I believe I’ve come up with a solution. Do you want to get out of this marriage, Caroline?”
Now he’s got my attention. I stare at him, pulse racing.
He’s so freaking handsome it kills me. That’s probably the alcohol talking, but I want him to take me into that sauna and fuck me like he really does hate me.
I want him to ruin me and leave me a shaking, moaning wreck. I take another long drink.
“How?” I ask, wiping my lips.
His eyes linger on my mouth. He’s hungry too. He might even be drunk.
“You’re going to do me some favors. They won’t be easy. They’ll test you in ways you’ve never been tested before. But if you do them, I’ll give you this apartment and I’ll grant you a divorce.”
I take a step back. “How? I mean, you can’t. Your brother.”
“Declan will get over it.”
“He’s the boss of your family. I don’t know a lot, but I know the Whelans are serious.”
“We are,” Finn agrees. He takes a long drink, one hand casually shoved in his pocket. “But I’m a man of my word. You help me and I’ll help you. I’ll take the consequences and protect you.”
“My father will kill me.”
“That’s the thing.” His eyes brighten and the gleam in his face is terrifying. This is all one big, amazing joke to him. “He can’t hurt you if he’s dead.”
My mouth opens. A hysteric laugh bubbles out. I smother it with more alcohol. The bottle is strangely light now. When did that happen? I cover my mouth to swallow a burp.
“Hilarious. Good one. But seriously, my dad will actually murder me if we get divorced. He made it clear earlier.”
Finn’s head tilts. “Is that what he threatened you with?”
“The details don’t matter.”
“Then let me be clear. You’re going to help me kill your father and all four of your brothers. I’m going to hunt them down, Caroline, one after the other. I’m going to cut their throats. I’m going to make them suffer. And you’re going to be there, by my side, drowning in their blood with me.”
I make a gagging, choking noise. I drink more alcohol and cough, sputtering some out. I shake my head, trying to clear it. “That’s insane. You’re joking, right?”
“How did you get those scars, Caroline?”
“Stop asking me about that.”
“How’d you get them? Who gave those to you?”
“Stop it!” I throw the bottle at him. I don’t even know why I do it. The bottle spins in the air and he neatly steps to the side. It misses and hits the tile next to the deep end, glass shattering all over, spilling into the pool.
He doesn’t look back. “We’ll kill them together for what they did. You’ll help me do it. Once your family is in the ground, you’ll be free. I swear on my life, I’ll let you go.”
I shake my head. This can’t be happening. My husband can’t be trying to get me to murder my own brothers with him. This is pure madness.
But there’s no joke in the serious way he’s watching me.
I suddenly feel sick. I whirl away from him and cover my mouth.
I make it about two steps before I spew prosecco all over the floor.
It splatters against the hem of my wedding dress.
I feel pathetic and foolish. I’m so drunk I can barely think straight.
Why did I have an entire bottle? What the heck was I thinking?
I have zero tolerance on a good day, and I haven’t eaten all night.
Finn appears beside me. He rubs my back, his palm rolling over the scars, his fingertips tickling them. I puke a second time, gasping for breath. He gently holds my hair back. “Sorry, so sorry,” I mumble. “I got some on your shoes.”
“Let’s get you to bed.”
I stand up and wipe my mouth with a groan.
“What, for our wedding night? Do we have to fuck now? Is your brother going to inspect our sheets?” I’m babbling.
I bet he can’t even understand my slurring nonsense.
He leads me back inside, down the steps, and into the guest bedroom.
I flop down on the comforter and start wiggling out of my dress.
Finn helps. He’s surprisingly gentle. I burp and laugh.
“There you go.” He rolls me onto my side. I’m aware that my tits are out. They’re covered in flesh-colored cups, but there’s not much left to the imagination. “Are you going to be sick again?”
“God, I’m embarrassed.”
“You’re fine.” He gets me under the sheets.
“Why are you being nice? I tried to kill you with a bottle.”
“You did a very bad job of it.”
“But why?”
“Because you’re my wife.” He smooths my hair from my face. I want to ask him to stay, but even wasted out of my mind I can’t stoop that low. He moves away to the door and flips off the light. “Sleep it off, darling.”
“Don’t call me that. My mom calls me darling.”
“Then I’ll call you something else.”
“Wait.” I squint at his outline in the doorway. “Do you really want to kill my family?”
“Yes, I do. Goodnight.”
The door creaks closed. I’m spinning and burping. I have to put one foot on the floor to keep from puking again.
But my head’s ringing the whole time with two words, over and over again, like an angelic choir screaming down my brain stem.
Kill them. Kill them. Kill them, kill them, kill them, kill them, kill—