Page 146 of Manacled Hearts

Reality sucks the air out of this enclosed space, and only the roar of the engine seems to save me. The man I… like, his brother who has been taking care of my sister, and the giant who has become like a brother to me, sit in an uncomfortable silence as we pull away from the bloodied beach.

I sneak a peek at Finnigan, and his gaze finds mine at the same time. I cannot decipher the range of emotions burning through me. There’s too many, too loud, some dark, and others unbearably light. I don’t know what to say, if it’s the right time to apologize. Will there ever be one?

Pressure builds in my chest and lodges itself in my throat as I lose control of my breathing, and prickles explode beneath every inch of my skin, urging me to scratch it bloody and get them out. Finnigan’s gaze widens and his hands rush to me in a split second, just as a broken, sharp cry slips through the dam forming at the back of my tongue. He drags me on his lap, wrapping me in his warm embrace that feels more like home than anything I ever experienced, and presses my cheek in the crook of his neck.

Right here… in the arms of the man I can no longer deny I love, my soul breaks.

The dam opens, and my chest frees the fear and anguish that has plagued me since the moment Franco Bartiste stole me away. He tore so much from me, ripped me open and filled me with malice.

My cries bounce around the car, mixing with the rumble of the engine as I curl deeper into Finnigan’s body, folding my arms against my chest as he tightens his hold on me, whispering soothing words against my hair. Even now, he doesn’t dare thread his fingers through it—a gesture that would calm any normal person. Instead he keeps to my back, my neck, rubbing in circles.

There’s nothing normal about me. I crashed so hard from my high horse, back when I used to judge Finnigan and his Sanctum for their crimes and violent ways. I could blame them for what I’ve done. For what I’ve become. But I would be a hypocrite. I was one back then as well.

Because this has been me all along.

Their violence hasn’t impacted me, they haven’t even exposed me to it. It all comes from within, deep in my dark little soul that craves revenge as much as it does the love I feel in this man’s touch.

My tears fall in waves, joining the desperate cries I can’t control.

“I’m so sorry!” I mutter, repeating those words over and over again praying that the next time they come out, there will be no fear in them.

“Breathe, Evie darling, breathe.” He soothes me with soft kisses as I shake against his chest.

Only, I cry harder, nightmares and memories spilling with every tear and broken sob, and through it all I realize… I still feel no remorse for the people I murdered. And the tears seem endless now.

“That’s it… let it all out,” Finnigan says as he strokes my back gently.

God, it helps. Why does he have this effect on me? I don’t know how much time passes, how many roads we’ve swerved on, or how fast Ronan’s been driving, but my chest finally fills with a full breath of air.

“I left!” I blurt out between the last of the sobs.

“You did.” He says in such a calm tone, it scares me.

“Why are you…? You’re not even upset. You don’t care.”

The car screeches to a halt at the same time Finnigan pushes me only far enough away that he can look into my eyes, and I hear a muttered ‘fuck’ from the front seats.

“I. Don’t. Care?”

Oh… I screwed up.

There is no trace of sweet baby blue in his eyes, only the menacing shade of destructive ocean storms, and they’re pulling me in their vortex.

“I—”

“Don’t!” he interrupts with a raised index finger, silencing me with a deep chill in my bones.

The car moves again and the echo outside of it reminds me of a parking garage. I dare peek past the man who still holds me tight on his lap and confirm it—we’re home, in his building.

A few moments later, he maneuvers me out of his hold, then pulls me out of the car after him, but doesn’t say a word.

The others are silent too, and even if I was just in the car with him, I dread looking Madds in the eyes. He’s probably so pissed at me. When Finn takes a step out of the way, I’m faced with the giant that doesn’t look all that gentle right now. Amber eyes regard me with so much fury, it could only be bred from love.

He grips my shoulder, nostrils flaring when he notices the strip of fabric wrapped around my bicep, but doesn’t say a thing.

I drop my head, chewing on my lip nervously. “I’m sorry.”

“Later,” he mutters in response, giving my shoulder a tight squeeze, and I know I’m down for some serious telling-off.

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