Chapter Twenty-Two
~ Something Cracked ~
Soren
I’m exhausted, the kind that feels like it’s carved into my bones.
We’ve been driving around the city all afternoon…
me, Ray, Armen, and a handful of my most trusted guys…
emptying and then burning every last one of Finn’s known properties.
Safehouses, rentals, bolt-holes, even a couple of shitty little apartments he thought no one knew about.
We moved like ghosts, discreet, no witnesses, no loose ends.
The cops won’t trace it back to us; I’ve got captains on the force who make sure of that, if they even manage to figure it out.
By the time we were done, Finn had nowhere left in this city to hide.
There’s a dark thrill in my chest at the thought.
Good… that’s the least that psychotic little shit deserves.
But underneath the satisfaction, a colder worry lingers.
This was supposed to be a warning, a message: touch what’s mine and I’ll burn everything you have.
I just hope it doesn’t push Finn over the edge.
The man doesn’t seem to have a single screw left intact in his head.
Who knows how he’ll react when he finds out.
At least it gave me an outlet for the rage that’s been eating me alive. For a few hours I could focus on something other than the gnawing fear that Kit might already be dead.
It’s late now when we finally pull back through the estate gates. I told Sam to call the second they heard anything from Finn, he claimed he’d be calling today, but we haven’t heard shit. The silence is worrying and infuriating in equal measure.
I shrug my jacket off the moment I step inside and hand it to Margo, one of the quiet housemaids.
She gives me a small, sympathetic smile that reminds me of my late grandmother…
soft, wordless, and efficient. She never bothers anyone, just does her job well.
She takes Ray’s and Armen’s jackets too and scurries off.
“I need a fucking drink,” I mutter.
“Second that,” Armen says.
We head down the hall and take a left into the break room.
I pause for half a second, eyes flicking to the pool table.
The last time I was in here I had Kit pinned underneath me, his small body arching, his voice breaking as he moaned my name.
He’d spoken, he’d touched me, he’d wrapped his legs around my waist, and I’d come too quick because of it.
I shake the memory away before it can dig any deeper.
Armen is already at the bar, grabbing three glasses and pouring three generous fingers of whiskey.
I walk over and take one. Ray does the same.
The silence is almost nice for a moment…
just the clink of glass, the burn of liquor, the shared exhaustion.
Then the door bangs open against the wall so hard it makes us all jump, even I flinch at the unexpected sound.
Armen flinches. “Fucking hell!”
Ray lets out a short laugh at Armen’s reaction before we all turn.
Luke stands in the doorway, breathing hard, tablet in hand. He nods at me. “It’s time, boss.”
I nod once, inhaling sharply. “My boy better still be alive…”
They all follow me as I take the stairs two at a time, heading straight up to my office.
I push through the office door, positioning myself in the middle of the room, arms crossed over my chest, jaw locked, ready to deal with this child of a man.
Selina runs in a moment later, breathless, eyes wide with worry. “God, he better be okay…”
I lick my teeth, tension coiling tighter in my gut, as Luke connects the call.
Finn’s immature, taunting voice fills the room. “Well, well… here we are for the final show. You know…”
He pauses dramatically, leaning back onto the table in the middle of the room. Kit still isn’t in sight. My heart is racing, a sick, frantic thud against my ribs.
I don’t have patience for his games. I snarl, “Where the fuck is Christopher?”
Finn laughs, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Patience, Your Highness.”
I exhale heavily through my nose, barely holding back the urge to reach through the screen and rip his throat out.
Finn laughs again and shouts, “You know I wasn’t very happy to find out all of my fucking properties were destroyed!”
I cut in, voice low and lethal. “That was the point, you fucking…”
I stop myself, biting back the rest. I can’t trigger this unstable child further, not while Kit’s life is on the line.
Finn keeps laughing, clearly enjoying himself. “Okay, okay… here he is. Alive… for now.”
He moves to the left of the table, still looking straight at the camera, not even bothering to turn toward Kit, like he’s not worth the effort.
My heart lurches violently. A horrible, deep ache rips through my chest as I see Kit’s head dropped forward, chin resting on his chest. For one horrifying second, I think Finn’s lying…
that Kit isn’t alive at all. He looks lifeless, pale, and broken.
I close my eyes for half a second and take a deep, steadying breath, trying to keep the panic from swallowing me whole.
Someone nudges my arm. I open my eyes and look down. Armen’s beside me, discreetly flicking his eyes toward the screen.
I look back just in time to see Kit slowly lifting his head. His dark curls fall messily into his eyes, dirty and tangled. He flicks his gaze up at Finn, then toward the camera. I exhale sharply with relief, the air leaving my lungs in a rush.
Finn continues talking, voice smug. “I was so close to putting a bullet in him, but… Christopher reminded me we could do this live and have so much more fun. Watching your face as you watch his life drain before you.”
As Finn speaks, Kit’s mouth curves into a small, wicked smile of his own.
With the fresh scar cutting across his cheek and forehead, he looks almost dangerous…
like a completely different boy from the shy, terrified one who was taken.
Like something inside him has finally cracked and hardened into steel.
Then… oh, then… Kit makes me extremely proud. He slowly lifts his hands to his sides, showing us that he’s not tied up at all. Did he… actually manage to get himself free?
Armen leans in close, murmuring only loud enough for me to hear, “Am I seeing things or is our kid a genius?”
Kit stands, slow and unsteady, and reaches down for something off-screen.
I keep Finn’s attention forward by feeding his ego. “You know, Finn… you’ve played a pretty good game.”
Finn’s eyes widen with delight and he laughs. “Finally! My potential is recognised!”
I want to roll my eyes so hard they fall out of my head.
Kit’s standing behind Finn now, gripping what looks like a metal pole or chair leg. I watch the screen, heart hammering.
Kit grins, wide, almost feral, as he swings the metal rod back with surprising strength, then brings it forward with every ounce of energy he has left. The crack as it connects with Finn’s temple is sickeningly loud, bone meeting metal in a wet, brutal sound that echoes through the speakers.
Finn’s body staggers, eyes wide in shock, and starts to fall backward.
Kit doesn’t pause; he drops the rod, lunges for the gun lying on the table beside Finn, doesn’t even hesitate…
he fires. Six shots, point-blank into Finn’s face.
The first bullet hits his cheek. The second explodes through his nose.
The third and fourth tear into his forehead and eye socket.
The fifth and sixth rip through what’s left of his skull, blood and brain matter spraying across the table and the wall behind him in a grotesque arc.
Kit is screaming the entire time, raw, furious screams that sound like they’ve been building for the worst week of his life. “Fuck you! Fuck you! You sick piece of shit!”
I’m fucked in the head, I know it, because I’ve never been prouder of anyone in my life. And honestly… this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
Selina and half the room erupt into cheers, fists pumping, voices overlapping in shocked, triumphant shouts.
Armen laughs loud and sharp. “That’s right, Kit!”
Ray claps once, shaking his head in disbelief as he looks at me. “He’s really one of us now, huh?”
I smirk, a low grunt escaping me.
On the screen, Kit drops the gun. His energy is failing fast, the adrenaline crash hitting him hard. His shoulders slump and his body sways.
I lean forward, voice urgent. “Kit, where are you?”
He turns to the camera, eyes glassy, speech badly slurred. “B-boat…”
Then he collapses to the floor, out of frame.
“Christopher!” I shout, the word ripping out of me.
Luke’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Wait… did he say boat?”
I’m too busy staring at the still call… Finn’s dead body flopped grotesquely over the table, blood pooling, Kit nowhere in sight.
Armen nods quickly. “Y-yeah, he said boat.”
Luke speaks fast, already typing. “Finn bought a boat, remember the brothers mentioned it? He has one registered in his name. It’s kept at the southwest bay.”
Sam leans forward, eyes locked on his screen, fingers flying across the keyboard with sharp, precise clicks. The room is dead quiet except for the rapid tapping.
“I’ve got the registration number from the harbour authority database,” he says, voice tight with focus. “Cross-referencing with satellite imagery and AIS signals now…”
He pauses, squinting at the data streaming in. The seconds stretch. Then his shoulders relax just a fraction. “Got it. It’s anchored off Sanders’ bay; about five miles out. We can have a team there in forty minutes.”
I look at Armen and Selina. “Go with Sam and Luke. If I can’t get to him first, it should be you two he sees.”