Chapter 17 Caroline
CAROLINE
The funeral’s scheduled for a Wednesday, just four days after Shane’s body was found beaten to a pulp in a brothel.
Nobody’s talking about how he died. It’s like we all know Shane brought it on himself somehow.
At least, that’s how it feels to me. Except Shane’s a dark pit in my heart, a shadow across my soul, a stain on everything that’s ever been good about me, and I’m not sure if I can get his last moments out of my head.
I put on a black dress, fix my hair, and do my makeup. I doubt I’m going to cry, but I shove tissues into my little black purse, just in case I have to put on a show.
Finn’s downstairs in a suit. He’s sipping whiskey and staring out the window at the skyline.
We haven’t spoken much since it happened.
Most days, he’s out dealing with work. I think sometimes he’s out with my brothers trying to find Shane’s killers.
He’s probably having fun throwing them off our trail.
As far as I can tell, nobody suspects us, not even a little bit.
Which is insane. Can’t they see the blood all over my hands? Don’t they notice this ugly stain on my soul?
I helped murder my own brother.
It’s like I’ve been irrevocably changed, like I’ve somehow made myself uglier, but nobody even cares.
Most of my days are spent swimming and taking saunas right now. I try not to think about Shane or the rest of my brothers. The sickest part of all this is the idea that we might stop with him hasn’t even occurred to me.
The first one’s always the hardest.
I’m a killer now, so why not go all the way?
When I get downstairs, Finn looks back at me. His eyes drift down my body, lingering on my lips, and finally he meets my gaze. “Ready for this?”
He shows absolutely no emotion.
I open my mouth to say yes, I’ll be fine, but instead my anger swells.
I know this isn’t the time or place for this.
I should’ve talked to him much sooner. But something about the coming funeral and my own mixed feelings finally snaps my self-control.
I’ve been keeping these thoughts buried since that night and now they spill out like lava from my throat.
“You lied to me.”
I stare at him, struggling to maintain my composure.
His lips tug into a frown. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You didn’t say we were going to torture him. You lied to me, Finn. He could’ve killed me.”
“I wouldn’t have let that happen.”
“He almost killed you!”
Finn’s jaw tightens as he carefully puts the glass of whiskey down. “You’re angry about the wine.”
“Damn right I’m angry about the wine!” I take a step forward, trembling. I hate the way my body betrays me. I need strength right now. That’s the only thing a man like Finn will respect. “You told me it was poison.”
“It was.”
“Liar. Damn it, Finn. Stop lying to me.”
“That bottle was poisoned, Caroline. It was a slow poison designed to cripple him, but to leave him alive. I couldn’t have known he’d do enough cocaine to kill a horse before drinking it.”
I could scream. He’s always got an answer for everything. “You didn’t tell me that part. You made me think he’d drink the wine and he’d be dead. You didn’t mention anything about you coming in and hurting him first.”
Finn nods slowly. His face twitches slightly like he’s trying hard to keep himself under control too. I’d love to see him break right now, if at least to know there’s a human hidden deep inside the monster.
“He had to know it was me. It wouldn’t have been satisfying otherwise. And who deserved to be beaten to death more than him?”
I flinch and look toward the wall. I’m seething with rage. “You were reckless with my life.”
“I tried to talk you out of going.”
“Don’t be an asshole. You should’ve warned me.”
“What difference would it have made?”
“I don’t know. I would’ve prepared myself. I would’ve known at least!”
He comes closer, head tilted, studying me intently. Gone is the smirking, laughing Finn. Gone is the mask, the shroud he wears to hide his true nature. Standing before me is my husband, the scarred and brutalized psychopath.
Broken, just like I’m broken, wrecked in all the same ways.
“He had to know,” Finn repeats. There’s a note of urgency in his tone now.
“Shane loved hurting me. I think it was his favorite pastime. All of your brothers pitched in, but Shane liked it the best. They tortured me for fun, but Shane elevated pain to an artform. One time, I woke up in the middle of the night to find Shane kneeling on my chest. He put a knife up against my left eye and said he’d cut it out if I screamed.
Then he started sliding it down my torso, one line after the other, and I bit my tongue so hard it bled for an hour after to keep from making any sounds.
He was so delighted he patted me on the head and told me I was a good boy afterward.
I couldn’t sleep right for months after that. ”
I take a step back and have to steady myself on the back of a chair.
Memory floods me. Shane grinning as he cut my inner thigh.
Scream and I’ll slice out your tongue. Please, give me an excuse to do it.
Shane laughing as he stomped on my hand after I beat him in a game of basketball.
Shane holding me underwater until I thought I might pass out.
“He did something like that to me too,” I whisper.
Finn keeps coming closer. “He deserved what he got.”
“I know that.”
“Then why do you seem so damn guilty?”
“Because he was my brother.” Tears fill my eyes. I hate myself for them. Why in the world would I cry for a creature like Shane? “Because I wanted to be the one who killed him.”
Finn’s eyebrows raise. “That’s why you’re angry?”
“You took that from me.” They stream freely now as frustration mixes with shame. What’s wrong with me? Why do I feel this way? “I was the one who was supposed to give him the bottle. I was the only one who was supposed to kill him. Then you came and stole it from me.”
Finn lets out a soft sigh. He closes the gap between us and touches my wrist. I try to pull away, but he grabs it tightly.
He wraps his arms around me, hugging me close against him, and I breathe in his musky, spicy scent.
I cry into his chest, angry with myself, angry with Finn, hating the whole damn world, but most of all sick at the idea that I wanted to kill my brother so desperately that I’m mad I didn’t get to finish him off.
“You can have the next one,” he whispers, gently wiping away my tears.
“That’s not what I want.”
“No, but it’s what you need.”
“We aren’t dragging it out anymore. No more lying to me. No more trying to make them suffer. If we do this, we do it smart.”
He leans down and kisses my cheek. His lips are so warm. I halfway expected him to feel like a corpse, but I know better than that. Finn burns like fire. I’ve felt it before.
“Is that what you need?”
I want to tell him what I need is all my brothers to scream and beg and die like dogs, but instead I only nod. “No more games.”
“I promise. No more games. We’ll be smart.”
Strangely, I don’t feel relieved. Mostly I wonder why I’m fighting for this small mercy. My brothers don’t deserve it.
I get on my toes and kiss his lower lip. I nibble it, biting lightly. His fist glides into my hair and tightens and he kisses me back, shockingly hungry. But I draw back before this can go any further. I straighten myself out and smooth my dress.
“I need to clean up and then we need to leave.”
He looks at me with pure lust.
“I’m ready when you are.”