Chapter 15 Caroline
CAROLINE
Ifeel sick. My hands are shaking. The wine I’m carrying is going to spill all over the place, and if that happens, I’m screwed. This is the most expensive and important bottle I’ve ever touched in my life.
I want to dump it on the expensive carpet.
Other girls pass me. None pay me any mind. We’re all dressed alike: dark, tight dresses, hair done up, masks sparkling in the low lighting. Finn was smart about that, at least. Otherwise, Shane would spot me a mile away, even with all this hooker makeup.
I hear groans from nearby, laughter from another room, a moan through a wall. One of the girls yawns as she walks by. “Skip room six,” she advises. “That guy’s a pisser.”
I don’t bother asking what she means. I can guess.
I continue on, turn the corner, and slow as I approach a door with a gold 12 nailed to the front.
“You doing okay?” Finn’s voice is a soft whisper in my ear.
I touch the radio. It’s a tiny piece covered by my hair. “Just fine. I’m at the door.”
“Leave your end on transmit. I’m right across the hall. The second you say my name, I’ll be in there. Understand?”
I nod to myself before realizing he can’t see me. “Got it. It won’t be long.”
“Be careful, Caroline. Don’t let him touch you. Don’t let him see your face. Pour the wine and make sure he drinks, but don’t you drink any yourself. Then call me right away once he has it.”
“I know the plan.”
“You can do this. Just be careful.”
I take a deep breath. He’s right. I can handle this. It’s not even that hard: pour the wine, hand it over, and let nature do the rest. Shane’s never seen a drink he didn’t like, or a girl he didn’t want to fuck.
I can’t count how many times my brothers have had to drag Shane’s wasted ass from a brothel just like this one over the years.
I almost didn’t believe it when Finn told me how easy it was to get him here.
This place is owned by a Whelan-affiliated family, one that doesn’t ask questions and won’t mind a body on their premises.
Finn used a very convincing AI bot to send Shane an invitation via private direct messaging and set their date for tonight.
I knock lightly like I saw the other girls doing and open the door. Inside looks like a very nice hotel room. I find my brother sitting in a high-backed leather chair beside a table, a bottle of whiskey at his elbow, a glass in his hand, and my heart starts racing.
Oh, shit. He already has a drink.
Shane’s expression brightens when he spots me.
His eyes roam my body and I feel fucking sick.
He’s looking at me with a sexual hunger and I want to scream.
I knew this was going to be hard, but actually being in the room with him is totally disturbing.
His shirt’s unbuttoned halfway down his chest and his sleeves are rolled up. He seems at ease, but heightened.
“Hello, darling. I’m Shane. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Darya,” I say, changing my voice the best I can, softening it and faking a really bad Russian accent. I hesitate, holding the bottle. Shane’s eyebrows raise. “Drink?”
“I’m good there.” He sips his whiskey. “You brought that all for me? What a nice girl. You are a nice girl, aren’t you?”
“Yes, for you.” I start to open it with trembling hands. Shane watches, amused, as I struggle with the cork.
“Ah, let me.” He stands and comes over. My skin crawls as he touches my lower back. His hands inch toward my ass and he palms it, squeezing.
I back away quickly.
“Yes, thank you,” I say, trying not to let him hear the tremble in my voice. Oh, god, my brother just grabbed my ass. This is so fucked up.
“You’re a skittish one. Are you new at this, Darya? Don’t worry if you are. I’ve done this many times before.” He gets the cork out with a satisfying pop. “There we go. I’ll let this breathe. How about we drink it after we’re done? I’ll toast to you after I’ve filled you up.”
He’s grinning now. I want to scream. This is going so wrong. I stumble backward, mind racing, until I bump into the side table he was sitting near. I knock the bottle of whiskey over and watch it crash against the carpet.
“Oh, shit!” I say, backing away.
“Stupid bitch,” he snarls, shoving me sideways.
I stagger and turn an ankle on my heels.
I yelp in pain as he bends over and grabs the whiskey bottle.
“Fuck, this was Glenfiddich 50, you dumb fucking whore. Do you have any idea how expensive this shit is?” He waves the bottle in the air. It’s nearly empty now.
“Sorry, so sorry, clumsy. I’m very sorry.” I sit and hang my head. I’m shaking all over, terrified out of my mind. I’m waiting for Shane to hit me like he always does. I’ve never known him to hold back, not when he’s mad.
Of all my brothers, Shane likes violence the best, especially using his own two hands. I remember him laughing gleefully, slapping me across the face over and over, and explaining how a man isn’t a man before he’s beaten a woman into submission.
Shane takes a pull from the bottle and curses when it’s the last drop.
He throws it back down on the carpet and pulls a baggie from his back pocket.
“God, I’m going to wreck you now, Darya.
You have no idea.” He sets up a line of coke and snorts it recklessly from the table.
His eyes are bright and shining. “I’m going to fuck you until you’re bloody, you worthless cunt.
You’re going to earn the price of that bottle.
I’m going to break you over and over, and I promise, my dick’s going to stay hard for a very long time. ”
Every part of me wants to run. I’m struggling to sit still. I have to grip my knees to keep myself from screaming Finn’s name and begging him for help. Shane’s going to kill me. He’s going to rip off my mask and beat me to death. He’s gotten close before, but this time, he won’t stop.
He snorts a second line and growls with excitement. His eyes are glassy and unfocused. He opens his shirt the rest of the way.
“What the fuck are you still sitting there for, bitch? Get your clothes off. I want you on your knees. Get my fucking dick stiff with that mouth.”
“Yes, yes, I will.” I stand, knees shaking.
“You better suck dick good. I’m going to choke you with my cock.
God, Glenfiddich 50 dumped on the fucking floor.
You have no idea how much I hate you right now, but there’s nothing better than a hate fuck.
I’m going to bruise you, Darya. I’ll pay your pimp off, don’t worry. They won’t complain. But you will.”
I whimper, petrified, and he likes that.
Shane laughs madly as he grabs the wine bottle.
I stand there, feeling tiny and weak, tears rolling down my face.
He’d probably like it if he knew I was crying.
I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t think.
I’m trapped by years of abuse and trauma.
I never should’ve thought I could handle this.
He’s going to hurt me, hurt me, again and again, and it won’t ever stop this time—
Shane takes a long swig from the wine bottle. “What the fuck are you waiting for? Get on your fucking knees, bitch.” He unzips his pants and reaches in for his cock. “Da fuck… you lookin…” His words slur and he frowns, confused. “Da fuck? Ya blurry? Wha da fuh’s happen… yah bish…”
He lunges at me, snarling.
I leap back, snapping myself out of my stupor. “Finn!” I shout. “Finn! Finn! Now!”
Shane growls and grabs my ankle as I try to scramble away. “Fuh you, bish… gonna fuh you blubby…”
The door smashes in. Shane yanks me toward him. My mask slips and falls free, and for a moment, my brother stares blearily down into my eyes.
There’s a glimmer of recognition.
Finn’s on him a second later, yanking Shane off me. Which isn’t easy, considering Shane’s easily six-foot-six and three hundred pounds. He’s bigger and heavier than Finn, but he’s woozy.
“The poison!” I gasp, edging away toward the corner of the room. “He took a drink!”
Shane grunts, swinging at Finn. It’s brutal and off balance, but it strikes Finn in the chest. Finn staggers back, cursing, and Shane’s on him.
The two men struggle, hitting and punching, kicking and cursing.
I keep waiting for Shane to die, for his breathing to stop, for his heart to give out—but instead, it’s only like he’s been drugged.
But my brother’s on so much cocaine that it’s not knocking him out all the way.
I realize with a sickening horror that this must’ve been Finn’s plan the whole time.
Shane pummels the floor where Finn was a second earlier.
Finn comes up and kicks Shane in the jaw.
Blood splatters the bedspread. Shane rolls, grabs the whiskey bottle, and bashes Finn in the leg.
Finn yells, staggers, and Shane hits him again.
Even clumsy and dazed, Shane’s a force from hell.
Finn leaps over Shane’s next attack and slams a knee into my brother’s face, cracking his head back.
More blood sprays the wall. Shane hits Finn in the mouth, and Finn spits blood across the carpet.
They hit each other, blow after blow. I watch my brother and my husband pummel themselves into bloody corpses. Finn’s breathing hard, crashing his fist into Shane’s wrecked nose again and again, but Shane’s not stopping. He strikes back, his fists like hammers.
I can’t watch this anymore. I run across the room and look at the door. I can get out. I can escape. But just as I think about doing it, Shane latches onto Finn and pulls him into a headlock, his beefy arm pressed up against Finn’s throat.
My husband gags and thrashes, but even drugged, Shane’s an unstoppable nightmare.
My legs move. Years of hate drag me forward.
I find the wine bottle, grab it by the neck, and whip it around.
I smash it with all my force straight onto Shane’s head.
It shatters, spilling more red all over both Shane and Finn.
Several glass shards stick into Shane’s scalp.
He grunts and releases Finn, lolling sideways.
Finn seizes a long shard of glass, twists to face my brother, and drives it deep into Shane’s neck.
His eyes are bright with hate, his lips pulled into a snarl.
“You should’ve killed me all those years ago,” he hisses in Shane’s face.
“You should’ve killed me, you piece of shit.
Now I’m going to watch the light go out, you fucking bastard.
I hope it hurts. I hope it’s slow. I hope you fucking suffer. ”
Shane tries weakly to get Finn off. He tries to talk, but it comes out a bloody gurgle. His life pumps from the wound as Finn stabs him again, and again, and again, vicious and unrelenting. I watch, unable to move. Finn rips Shane into pieces until finally, Shane collapses back, going limp.
The room’s dead quiet. Finn’s panting. His face is a mess. There’s blood, wine, and whiskey everywhere. Shane’s barely human. He’s been beaten and stabbed until he resembles a mutilated corpse.
I bend over and puke on the floor. I retch, heaving, once, twice, three times.
My brother’s dead. My abuser’s gone. And I just helped my husband do it.
“Well, that didn’t go as planned.” Finn climbs to his feet. He’s practically glowing with triumph. “We should leave before there’s trouble.”
“Fuck,” I say, wiping my mouth. “What the fuck?”
“I appreciate the help back there. But I was about to shoot him in the knee.” Finn flashes me the gun he had in his waistband, grinning.
“You bastard. You had a gun the whole time?”
“Didn’t feel very sporting to use it.” Finn puts a hand on the small of my back. “Come on, baby. We have to go.”
I slide away from him. “You told me it was poison.”
“I did?”
“You said he’d die fast. You said if he drank the wine, that would be it.”
He tilts his head side to side. “I might’ve exaggerated.” There are angry male voices down the hallway. Finn takes my arm tightly. “Come on, time to run.”
I let him drag me out there. I’m sick and shaking. I have to kick my heels off to keep up, but we manage to get out down the back passage, through the kitchen exit, and out into the night where Liam’s waiting with a car. Finn’s friend doesn’t even blink at the state of him.
“Messy job?” Liam asks happily.
“Messy but successful.” Finn sighs, leaning his head back. “Exactly how I like it.”