Chapter Twenty #3
I laugh softly and shake my head, looking at Mitch and James. “Has your brother always been this dumb?”
They both look away, embarrassed.
I press play again. Finn keeps bragging, clearly having taken Kit’s word for it without checking the photo closely himself. “I think this good boy deserves an award, huh?”
My frown deepens, heart rate picking up.
Finn grins wider. “How about a nice cool scar, huh?”
My eyes go wide. “What…”
Kit shakes his head frantically. “What? No… Finn… please don’t…”
I feel like I’m watching in slow motion as Finn pulls a blade out, winks at the camera, then stands to the side of Kit, giving us a clear view.
Kit’s eyes are wide with panic. He’s crying now, shouting, “No! Don’t! Jesus Christ, please!”
Ray inhales sharply beside me.
Finn says, “Smile for the camera,” then yanks Kit’s head still and slices the blade into his cheek.
Kit screams instantly… a raw, agonised sound that rips through the speakers.
Finn laughs and drags the blade, splitting the skin across Kit’s cheek, over the bridge of his nose, missing the eye by a fraction, then pushing it back into the skin, cutting through his brow and up his forehead.
Toward the end, Kit’s screams and writhing turn into tired, broken whimpers.
Blood is dripping down his face, over his eye, into his mouth, and over his clothes.
He looks like he might pass out from the pain.
I’m breathing heavy and ragged, each inhale scraping like broken glass in my throat.
My hands are shaking violently; the kind of tremor I can’t stop no matter how hard I clench my fists.
I feel like a barely contained wolf… feral, cornered, ready to tear the entire world apart with my teeth.
The image of that blade slicing across Kit’s face is seared behind my eyelids.
The way his scream cut off into those broken, exhausted whimpers.
The blood. The terror in his eyes. I can’t fucking breathe.
Finn turns back to the camera, still grinning. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
The video turns off. The silence in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Armen is pulling at his hair. Ray has both hands over his mouth. Sam and Luke are staring at the dark screen like their brains are buffering.
I grab the tablet and immediately mute the video because I can’t bear to listen to those screams again. I turn the screen to face Mitch and James.
“Look at what your vile brother has become,” I say, voice gritted through my teeth.
Neither of them can speak. The way my voice sounds leaves no room for argument. They watch the video in silence, shock and embarrassment flickering across their features as they see their little brother in a new, horrifying light.
I snap, “Do you know where this is?”
James shakes his head, wincing.
Mitch says quietly, “No… it’s just metal walls, rusted… it could be anywhere.”
I growl and turn to the four guys who patted them down. “Take them to the basement. Don’t kill them.”
James panics. “What?”
I straighten up, voice cold and final. “You’ll stay down there where we can keep an eye on you… until I decide what to do with you.”
The guys drag them away.
I’m still barely containing the rage. It’s boiling under my skin like molten lead, demanding an outlet, something to destroy, someone to hurt.
But I can’t kill the brothers yet. I’m not a loose cannon, I’m smart and strategic; I need information first. I need to know where Finn is, where Kit is, before I paint the walls with their blood.
I look at Sam and Luke. They’ve seen violence like this a hundred times before… blood, screams, and broken bodies, but this is different. This is Kit; small, defenceless Kit who never deserved any of this.
Sam swallows hard and pats Luke on the shoulder, barely able to meet my eyes. “We’ll… uh… watch it again,” he says quietly. “See if we can find something to give us a clue to where they are.”
I nod, jaw so tight it feels like it might crack. I address the room in general as I turn to leave. “I’ll be in my gym.”
I head upstairs, not even bothering to change.
I slam the gym door shut behind me. The heavy bag hangs in the centre of the room, silent and waiting. I don’t wrap my hands; I don’t warm up…. I just walk straight up to it and unload.
The first punch lands with a dull thud that vibrates up my arm. Then another, and another, harder and faster. Grunt after grunt tears out of my chest as I rain blows down on the leather, sweat already beading on my forehead. Each impact helps for half a second.
Then Kit’s face flashes behind my eyes… innocent, terrified, and pleading at Finn to stop. My face crumples. I rest my forehead against the bag, breathing hard, chest heaving. One weak, broken sob escapes before I can stop it.
“Christopher…” I whisper to no one, voice cracking. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby…”
The words hang in the empty gym, raw and useless.
I slam my fist into the bag one more time, but there’s no strength left in it. Just pain, guilt, and knowing that I failed the one person I swore to protect.