Page 79 of Finn

Chapter twenty-two

Alessia

Finn and I step inside the elevator that leads down to the armory and shooting range. Considering neither of those combined took up the entire space of the subterranean level, I’m assuming that’s where he keeps a room for “questioning,” otherwise known as a kill room. It’s not uncommon for men in Finn’s position to have one, but based on the way he was hesitant for me to see the person he becomes when he’s making use of such a place, he didn’t want me to know about this one.

I don’t fault him for wanting to keep that part of himself hidden, but I think he’s finally coming to understand his brutal and violent side doesn’t scare me. He has one, sure, but it’s not directed at me, and I have every faith in my husband that it never will be. That’s what makes him different from so many other men in this life. He doesn’t get drunk on power or surround himself with yes-men. He uses his power to protect his family and make his organization stronger, not out of fear of retribution but out of respect. And he returns that respect to the people that deserve it. So no, I’ll never fear him because I know his heart and his mind. This is a cutthroat world, but Finn refuses to let that change who he is at the core. He’s a good man who does violent things to protect his people. And I love him more for it.

When we enter the armory, there’s a door flush with the wall I hadn’t noticed when I was down here in my exhausted stupor. Finn places his hand on yet another scanner and I hear the locks disengage. He pushes the door open, and we enter a small, dark room. There’s a woman sitting in a metal folding chair and Eoghan is standing next to her. The door closes and locks again. I look to my left and see the man responsible for so many of my nightmares through a two-way mirror. The room that Orlando is tied up in is brightly lit and exactly the type of room I imagined. Smooth tile lines the walls with a concrete floor and a drain in the center. Perfect setup for easy cleanup.

“Hi, I’m Sandra,” the woman sitting in the room says, extending her shaky hand.

I clasp her hand in a firm shake and notice the bruising on her neck and wrist. “Alessia Monaghan.”

“I figured. He was furious when he found out you’d married the head of the Monaghan family.” She tilts her head to Orlando in the other room but doesn’t look in that direction.

“I’m sure he was.” I sit next to her in an empty chair. It’s not in my nature to comfort a stranger, but my heart goes out to the woman who, by the looks of it, hasn’t known a kind touch in a long time. I was in her position, too, and remember all too clearly being afraid of everything and everyone. “You don’t have to be scared. He won’t hurt you again.” My voice is soft, trying to reassure her.

“I just want this to be over,” she says, rubbing her hands up and down her thin arms.

“You and me both,” I reply.

“I tried to leave him, you know? But he found me and brought me back. Said as soon as his old man died, he was going to make me his wife. Said he loved me and wanted to have a family with me. But then he would do this if he caught another man looking at me.” She waves to the faint bruises on her neck. “Why would someone who says they love you hurt you like this?”

“He doesn’t know what love is. He only understands power and trying to possess another human being. That’s not love.” Now that I know the difference, there’s no mistaking it. Hopefully, Sandra finds someone who can show her what she obviously craves, what the man in the other room will never be capable of.

Finn walks over to me and bends at the waist, kissing me softly on the lips. “I love you,” he whispers sweetly, as though he’s reminding me of that fact.

“I love you, too.”

He holds my gaze then nods, standing to his full height. Finn takes three purposeful steps to the door to the other room and swings it open. As soon as he enters, gone is the sweet and gentle husband he was a few moments ago and in his place is the head of a criminal empire.

“Orlando, you’re finally awake,” he says, walking up to the dazed man and slapping him in the face a couple times.

“Fuck you,” Orlando spits, jerking his face away from Finn’s hand. “Where am I?”

“Well, I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” Finn snaps his fingers and smiles. “Oh wait, that’s going to happen regardless of what I tell you.” He chuckles at his own joke.

I roll my eyes. Is this some sort of comedy hour? Jesus.

“But what you tell me will determine how you die. I can make it fast, or I can make it slow and incredibly painful. You decide.”

“I’m not telling you shit.”

Finn chuckles darkly. “That’s what they all say.” He turns and grabs a pair of pliers from the tool chest sitting on the folding table in the room. “In the beginning, at least.” He walks behind Orlando and grabs him by his sweat-drenched hair, wrenching his head back. “Where’s Carlo?”

“Fuck you,” Orlando spits.

“Wrong answer.” The grin on Finn’s face should chill me to the bone, but it has the opposite effect.

He releases Orlando’s hair and grabs one of his hands tied behind his back. I can’t see what exactly he’s doing, but Orlando screams and seconds later, Finn holds a bloody nail in front of the panting man’s face.

“Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?”

Finn gets to work on another fingernail and Orlando screams again. He does this a few more times, and a small pool of blood begins to collect on the floor below the hand that Finn has ripped every nail from.

“Had a change of heart yet?” Finn asks as he walks back over to the table and sets the pliers down.

Orlando lets out a sardonic laugh and that sends chills up my spine. I remember that sound all too well.

---