Chapter 18 Finn
FINN
It’s a cool, crisp morning. A good day to bury a piece of shit.
The graveyard is surprisingly filled with people. I’m happy about that. I don’t have to pretend like I care Shane Flanagan’s dead, like I didn’t stab him in the throat with a piece of glass. That bastard didn’t go down easy, which I really liked, but he did go down.
Caroline is with her family most of the morning and I stick with mine. We cross paths a few times, but nobody expects us to be anything but cordial. She’s only an arrangement, after all.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were bad luck.” My brother Seamus grins at me. He and I have always been the most alike. Cormac and Declan are always so fucking serious, while Seamus and I see the world for what it is: fucked up and hilarious.
“Why’s that?”
“You marry the girl and suddenly her brother ends up dead.” He casually leans against a random tombstone.
We’re standing on the edge of the crowd.
The city’s underworld really showed up to this thing.
The Flanagans are important and powerful, everyone wants to show their respect to the grieving fucking parents, not that anyone actually cares about the dead asshole.
“You think there’s a connection?”
Seamus shrugs lightly. “You did know him back in the day, right? You spent summers with his family, didn’t you?”
I glance at him. For a moment, I think he might know something. But no, at best he’s got a hunch.
“We weren’t really friends back then. I was busy going to camp.”
“Ah, yeah, the rich outdoorsy camp Mom and Dad shipped you off to. You loved it there, right?”
“Sure did.”
“Did the Flanagan kids go too?”
“For a few weeks.”
“Guess it’s just odd, is all. Did you hear how he died? Stabbed in a brothel. Rumor says some crazy girl lost her mind and went to town on him with a bottle. Can you imagine?”
“Yes, I really can.”
Seamus grins and slaps me on the back but his hand lingers on my arm. He’s smiling, but there’s a warning in the way he’s looking at me. “Let’s hope your bad luck’s over now.”
I pull away. “I doubt it.”
He looks like he wants to say more, but Mom and Declan come over, and he decides not to press.
The service is over and the crowd begins to break up.
I excuse myself and go find Caroline standing awkwardly apart from her family.
Malachy, Dermot, and Redmond are all with their father, the three remaining boys the vision of strapping young criminals, while the quiet, mousy little mother is off to the side, her eyes red and puffy from crying.
Then here’s my wife. Beautiful and slender, a lot like her mother, but with more curves.
She looks incredible in that black dress.
There’s something insanely attractive about knowing she wants her family as dead as I do, and yet she’s still capable of standing with them, greeting the mourners and the guests, and pretending like she cares about any of this.
“Come to collect your wife?”
I flinch as old Eamon Flanagan approaches. His living sons watch, all three scowling. Those bastards never liked me, except for when they were trying to make me bleed. Not much has changed in all these years.
“I figured it’s that time.”
Eamon nods at me. Back in the day, he was like a monster lurking in the darkness.
I was terrified of him the most. Not necessarily because he was the one with the hammer or the knife—that was his boys—but because he could’ve stopped it, but he chose not to.
In fact, I think he encouraged a bit of cruelty from his children.
It was his way of toughening them up, and the torture was meant to do the same to me.
It worked. It hardened me. It turned me into what I am now, which is broken in more ways than I can count.
“I know you didn’t want this marriage.” He glances back at his daughter. Beautiful little Caroline. “God knows why you would. She’s fine to look at, but what else is there?”
My guts clench. I bite back a retort. She’s got more spine and more wits than all your walking corpse boys have put together. “She’s a good match.”
“That’s the spirit.” He grins crookedly. “That’s what you should tell people. And listen, we’re family now. I lost one boy, but maybe I’ve gained another. You should come to dinner some time. My wife is a good cook.”
“I’d like that.”
“Wonderful. Tell my daughter to make it happen. Excuse me.” He walks off to speak to another group of people lurking nearby.
His sons follow him. None of them bothers to speak to me.
I’m just some kid they used to beat on back in the day.
Doesn’t matter if their family works for mine. In their memory, I’m the punching bag.
“What did my dad want?” Caroline asks quietly. Her hands are folded in front of her. She’s playing up the shy, sad daughter angle really well.
“Nothing. Fuck him.” I put an arm around her shoulder and lean in close. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
She stiffens by my side. Her cheeks flush, and I didn’t even say anything bad. “What about?”
“How beautiful you looked covered in your brother’s blood. How badly I wanted to fuck you on that gore-covered bed. Think anyone would mind if I filled your pussy on top of his casket?”
“Finn,” she hisses, cheeks burning pink. My god, it’s the most attractive thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
“You’re not saying no.”
“You’re sick. That’s my brother down there.”
“And you’d let me fill your mouth with my fingers as I fuck you from behind right on top of his corpse. You’re as sick as I am.”
She looks up. For a brief moment, the grieving daughter disappears, and the real Caroline shines through. She’s sharp and terrifying, and it sends a thrill down my spine.
“Sicker, I bet.” She pushes off me and starts walking. “Take me home.”
Sweat drips off my body. I lean back and close my eyes as more steam fills the sauna. I sigh, stretching my legs, with only a towel wrapped around my middle.
I keep seeing Shane’s last moment. The anger and terror. I bet he would’ve begged if I had given him the chance. That’s my only regret—he didn’t suffer nearly enough—but that big bastard was tough to put down. I’ll give him that at least.
The door opens. A sudden inrush of cooler air hits me. Caroline slips inside wearing a dark blue bathing suit top and a towel around her waist. She sits at the far side of the sauna, putting as much distance between us as she can. More steam hisses out and she gets herself settled.
I watch my wife. She ignores me. All thoughts of her dead brother slip from my mind. It’s nice watching sweat bead on her smooth skin. It catches on the scars on her thighs.
“We should compare,” I say, stretching my hands above my head and arching my back. I like the way she glances at me, her lips pursed together.
“Compare what?”
“Scars. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
“I doubt that’s all you want to see.”
“How’d you get those?” I nod at her leg. “They’re neatly done.”
“Shane.”
“He must’ve gotten better as he got older.” I twist and show her an ugly, jagged, puckered mark on my ribs. “He stabbed me with a sharp stick one time. That hurt like hell. I thought it might get infected.”
“I don’t want to do this.”
“Show me more then.”
“I came in here to relax.”
“But you found me instead.”
Her eyes close and she sighs. “I’m the least lucky person alive.”
I smile to myself, thinking about what Seamus said to me earlier. I move slightly, getting closer to her. She watches but doesn’t say anything. I settle again.
“I understand, you know. Better than anyone else does. How it starts as a joke, or maybe a small punishment, and slowly it escalates, until one day you find yourself terrified to get out of bed.”
“Shane wasn’t even the worst one,” she mutters, nose wrinkled in disgust. “He did it because he enjoyed hurting me, but Redmond did it because he thought he was helping.”
My eyebrows arch in surprise. “Redmond? How’s that work?”
“He’s a true believer. Really thinks our family is important and doing important work. He thought I was weak and soft, and he wanted to do everything he could to toughen me up, like I’d thank him one day for it.”
I smile, remembering young Redmond. “He was an eager, self-righteous prick even back when I knew him.”
She twists to show me her back. The long, twisted lines down her skin tell a thousand stories. “This was his favorite. He said it was character building.”
I reach out and touch her. She flinches but doesn’t pull away. I run my fingers down the scars, lingering on the lumpy, misshapen skin. “You’re beautiful, you know.”
She smiles to herself. “That’s bullshit, but thank you.”
“I mean it. The scars don’t bother me. I actually think they’re gorgeous. And all the rest of you too.” My hand continues stroking her back.
“I never let people touch them.” She stares at the far wall, her lower lip tucked underneath her teeth.
“I was ashamed for so long. I still am, but in a different way. I’m mad at how much power they have over me.
Even now, when I know none of it was my fault, just my fucked-up brothers doing whatever they wanted. ”
“You don’t have to hide them from me.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here.” She looks back at me. Her eyes hold mine. “I haven’t gone swimming around people since…” She glances down at my mouth. “I don’t think ever.”
I shuffle closer. My hand moves up into her hair. “You’ve been hiding.”
“You could say that.”
“I’ve been hiding too.”
“Is that why you’re always smiling? Your family thinks you’re the funny one, right?”
“That’s right.” I lean in and smell her. It’s floral and sharp. I like her sweat as much as anything. I kiss her shoulder and lick a small scar there, tasting salt. She lets out a soft sigh. “It’s easier when everyone thinks I’m just the eager youngest brother trying to make a name for himself.”
“What are you going to do when they’re all dead?”
“Smile.” I kiss her neck. “Laugh.” I bite her chin a little too hard. “Live.”
She turns and crushes her mouth to mine.
This time, I don’t let her go. I pull her closer, fist tight in her hair.
There’s no escape, no running, no hiding.
I unleash myself on her, kissing her, filling her mouth with my tongue, burying her with my touch.
I pull her into my lap and she lets out a surprised groan when she feels my stiff cock between her legs.
She grinds closer and whimpers when I press her bikini top over her breasts and thumb her stiff nipples.
“I want to kill Redmond next,” she says, gasping and pulling back suddenly. Her eyes are shining with fever. They’re bright and glassy.
“Anything.”
“And I want to do it.”
“He’s yours.”
She kisses me again, moaning as she grinds.
I grab her ass. This girl is a monster, just like me, except she’s even better at hiding it than I am.
She doesn’t even realize how fucked she is, not yet, but she’s starting to see it.
She’s starting to feel the hate creep its way out, and god, I find it so startling and beautiful, watching her transform into what she was always meant to be.
Broken and wicked, just like me.
I drag her from the sauna. We’re both gasping and sweaty.
The pool room with its big glass walls and roof is still humid and warm, but it feels cold by comparison.
I pin her against the far wall, her ass and back leaving damp smears.
Beneath us, the city glitters. A nearby tower looms. I drop to my knees and yank down her bikini bottoms until she’s bare.
“Finn,” she whimpers, lacing her fingers through my hair. “Someone’s going to see.”
“Let them watch.” I force her legs open. I kiss her scars, from the knees up, licking and sucking each one as I get closer to her pussy. She moans, panting, gasping, choking on her gasps and sobs, until I reach her wet folds.
And God, she tastes so good, like heaven, like sunshine and light.
Salty and warm and real, so fucking real.
This is the most alive I’ve felt in a very long time, even more than when I was killing her brother.
I lick her pussy, gliding my tongue up and down, sliding it inside of her, eating her wildly, starving for her, desperate for her moans and gasps, her whimpers of pleasure and delight.
Her grip on my hair tightens until it hurts.
I love that too. She’s losing herself as I eat her, and when I slide two fingers deep into her pussy, my tongue still lapping her clit, her head tilts back against the glass and she cries out for more.
I push my fingers in deeper, fucking her with them.
She’s gushing, dripping, so wet it’s drowning me, and I love it.
I suck and lick, greedy for her, wanting more and more, until her back stiffens and she moans my name, and I know she’s coming.
I keep going, driving her deeper into bliss.
When it’s done, I stand back. My wife is naked, scars glistening, her back pressed against glass overlooking the city, and I’ve never seen a woman more perfect in my life.
I stroke my cock, unable to help myself.
She’s so goddamn incredible, I stroke faster, stroke harder, and cup one breast with my hand, jerking myself.
I hold my palm to her mouth and she spits against it, her eyes wide with shock and delight.
“You make me so fucking hard,” I snarl, stroking my cock faster, squeezing her tits. “God, Caroline, you are so fucking beautiful.”
Her fingers snake into my hair and she kisses my neck. “Keep going, Finn. Come on me.”
“Fuck,” I say, low and out of control.
“Your tongue felt so good between my legs, Finn. Now I want you to feel good too.”
“Caroline,” I groan, eyes rolling back. I come hard, spurting onto her inner thigh, smearing myself against the scars there.
My knees go weak and shaky. I can barely hold myself up.
I collapse forward, pinning her back to the glass, and I feel her hand take my cock, her palms smearing against my cum-covered tip.
“Fuck, wife,” I whisper as she slowly rubs it against her lips.
“I like the way you taste too,” she says, and I’m so gone I doubt I’ll ever recover. “We’re killing Redmond next. We’re doing it fast. No suffering. No mistakes.”
“Whatever you want.” I shiver, eyes closed. My teeth sink into her shoulder. “Anything at all.”
And I mean it. She could ask me to burn this whole city to the ground and I’d do it right now, just to taste her again. I’ve never felt like this before, like she’s my entire world, like everything in my life has collapsed into this moment.
Her fingers stroke my back, through my hair, and I don’t want to move, but eventually we swim in the pool to clean off before ending back in the sauna, swapping horror stories about all the shit we’ve been through, and she seems lighter than she’s ever been before, her feet in my lap, her skin pink with exertion.