Page 21 of Emerald

He searched my gaze, his own eyes haunted and filled with a pain that echoed my own. "I just want to fix it. Want to take away every hurt, every horrible memory."

He would shoulder the weight of the world, to shield me from what has just happened. What he didn’t realize was this was something I had to do alone.

***

The nightmares came next. Night after night I woke up screaming, thrashing in the tangled sheets as the memories crashed over me in a nauseating wave. Cruel hands and leering faces, pain and humiliation and a despair so bleak it stole the breath from my lungs. Finn held me through the worst of it. He whispered words of comfort, of love and reassurance, never flinching away from the broken, ugly thing I'd become. But he wouldn't touch me beyond that. Wouldn't let his hands stray below my waist or his lips taste any skin but my forehead and tearstained cheeks. And I knew he was trying to be respectful, to give me space to heal from the violations I'd endured.

But god, how I wished he would just fuck the memories right out of me sometimes. Wished he would cover me with his body and erase every touch, every sick caress, until all I knew was him. Until all I could feel was pleasure and love and the sweet ache of being filled by the man I adored.

But it wasn't that simple. I needed to heal, in my mind and my soul as much as my body. I did the only thing I could. I poured all my rage, all my pain into the only outlet I had left. The sprawling criminal empire that my father's death had left leaderless and adrift. I was the Queen now, hardened from my own personal hell. And I would destroy anyone who dared stand in my way, who threatened what was mine. I knew it wouldn't erase the scars on my body or mind, but it was a start.

Finn stood as my second and bit by bit, a few months past and the nightmares started to slowly go. He slept beside me each night. I could feel his heat and his body craving me, but he didn’t make a move.

It was up to me.

The next night, as I woke from one recurring nightmare that wouldn’t leave me, I asked Finn for the one thing I needed to be whole again. My throat raw from screaming and my skin clammy with cold sweat, I rolled over to face him and pressed my lips to his.

"Make me forget," I whispered against his mouth, my fingers tangling in his sleep-mussed hair. "Make it so I can only feel you, only remember your touch on my skin."

He groaned, a helpless, agonized sound. "Cara... I don't want to hurt you. Don't want to push for more than you're ready to give."

"You could never hurt me." I caught his hand, guided it to my breast. "Please, Finn. I need you to chase away the ghosts. Need you to fill me until there's no room for anything else."

He shuddered, his fingers flexing against my flesh. I could see the struggle in his eyes, the desperate desire warring with the fear of causing me more pain. But in the end, the need won out.

His mouth came down on mine, hot and sweet and achingly tender. And as his hands began to map my body, as his lips blazed a trail of fire along my jaw and down my throat, I felt something ease in my chest. Felt the terror being chased away by Finn’s touch.

It wasn't a cure-all. I knew I had a long road ahead of me, a lifetime of wrestling with the demons those monsters had planted in my head. But here, now, with Finn's touch gentling away the jagged edges of my trauma, I could almost believe I would be whole again someday.

Chapter 17: Cara

Two months later

The new head of the Russian bratva was not what I expected. For one thing, he was younger than I'd anticipated, his face unlined and his eyes clear and sharp. For another, he'd brought his daughter with him to the meeting, a pretty little thing of about fifteen with the same striking blue eyes as her father.

It was a calculated move, I knew. A not-so-subtle reminder that he was a family man, a father, not some rabid beast like Mikhail and his brothers. But I appreciated the gesture nonetheless, the implied message that he came in peace and goodwill.

We sat across from each other in the plush confines of my father's old office - my office now. Finn was a solid presence at my right hand, with Seamus, my enforcer, his hand never straying far from the gun at his hip.

"I want to make one thing very clear, Miss Maguire," the Russian - Anatoly, he'd introduced himself as - said, his accented voice low and serious. "What was done to you... it was not sanctioned by the bratva. Mikhail and his brothers were acting of their own accord, without any higher ups knowledge or approval."

I raised a brow, feeling a flicker of dark amusement curl in my gut. "And if they had known? Would you have stopped them?"

Anatoly's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "Yes," he said simply, his gaze unwavering on mine. "I am not a monster, Miss Maguire. I have a daughter, a precious jewel that I would kill or die for. The thought of her suffering even a fraction of what you endured..."

He trailed off, his eyes flicking to the teenage girl at his side. She stared back at him , an innocent, her small hand slipping into his much larger one. The sight made something clench in my chest, a bittersweet ache of might-have-beens.

"I believe you," I said. "But surely you can understand my reluctance to take any man at his word these days, especially a man in your position."

Anatoly inclined his head, a rueful twist to his lips. "Of course. In your shoes, I would not trust easily either. But I hope that, in time, we can forge a new understanding between our organizations. A truce, if not an outright alliance."

I leaned back in my chair, steepling my fingers in front of me as I considered his words. A truce with the Russians. That is what my father wanted. What he sacrificed me for. It was not something I'd ever thought possible, not after the horrors their men had visited upon me. But looking at Anatoly now, protective curl of his arm around his daughter, I found myself wondering if perhaps it was time to let old wounds heal. To move forward, instead of dwelling on the bloody past.

"I think," I said slowly, "that a truce could be mutually beneficial. But I am not ready yet. I have a deep distrust of you still. You have yet to earn my respect.”

Anatoly's eyes glinted with something that might have been approval, his head dipping in a nod. " I would expect nothing less from a woman of your reputation of the Emerald Queen."

I showed Anatoly and his daughter out myself, Finn and Seamus falling into step behind me.

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