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Headlights blind me as I’m getting out of the car. My eyes squint to make out who’d be crazy enough to be on my land.
A tall figure leaps out of the driver’s side. Ciaran.
“Mind telling me what happened tonight?” he asks, stomping towards me.
“Mind your own fuckin’ business,” I shoot back at my brother, noticing his woman beside him.
Parisa. She’s probably the only woman I can tolerate. She’s like us, so I don’t have to mask up.
“You’ve got family, and we don’t mind our business,” she says, flashing a sweet smile.
My brother’s girl is the first woman I’ve ever met that hasn’t repelled me. But she’s also the first one that wants nothing from me. Parisa is here because, for some strange reason, she loves Ciaran, and I’m his baggage, so she has to accept me. Parisa knows who and what I am, and she doesn’t care. Maybe it’s because, like Ciaran and I, she’s got the same darkness twisting her soul.
“Listen, Parisa. I appreciate the two of you coming down here to check up on me, but I’m a big boy.” My gaze meets Ciaran’s. “Actually, I’m the older brother.”
Parisa laughs while clutching her chest. “Whoa, I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you speak.”
“Are we done here?”
Parisa cocks her head to the side. “You’re not gonna invite us in for a drink or a snack? That’s awfully rude of you, Finnigan.”
“I’ve got shit to do, and you dropped by uninvited.”
“What kind of shit?” Ciaran asks.
He’s getting on my damn nerves. The fucker is like a dog with a bone—doesn’t get the hint and just pushes and pushes. “Some personal shit.”
Ciaran barks out a laugh. “You barely make eye contact with women. So I know this so-called personal shit of yours has nothin’ to do with a chick. So if it’s not about getting your dick wet, you’re gonna have to tell me what’s up.”
I step away from Ciaran and Parisa and open the back door of the car. I’m hit with a brick straight to my gut as Anissa stares at me. She’s still scared, huddled, her legs folded. She’s trying to keep herself small, but if a dirty look could kill you, I’d be dead on the ground.
“Get out.”
Anissa doesn’t move. I’m not sure if it’s some sort of defiance or if she’s frightened.
“You don’t want to mess with me, little girl.”
Her eyes lock with mine. “I’d rather be dead than be the victim of whatever else you have planned for me.”
Ciaran chuckles. “Oh, look. Finn found himself a hell kitten.”
I fist my hand, turning to punch my brother in the face, but his girl beats me to it. She’s on top of him, a knife pointed at his throat. “You don’t get to call any other girl names. Got it?”
The two of them maul each other, ignoring the fact that two other people are in their vicinity. I turn away from them and grab the rope tied around Anissa’s hands, dragging her roughly from the car. She trips, landing on her knees and wincing. I can’t understand why, but her discomfort bothers me.
Chapter Three
ANISSA
I should run. Right this second, I should run, but my legs appear to be useless.
Finnigan’s preoccupied with watching his brother maul some woman on the ground. They’re like animals, attacking each other as if in heat. She’s holding the handle of the knife while his hand is around the blade. Droplets of blood escape between his fingers.
“Jesus, he’s crazier than you are.”
“No, he’s not,” Finn whispers just above my ear.
I shiver at his words. He’s crouched down beside me, his presence like a noose slowly tightening around my neck. Suddenly, I’m suffocating.
“I need you to get up on your own. If you make me do it, I’ll hurt you.”
I hesitate for a moment but then rush to my feet.
Finn’s stare holds me captive, his eyes peering into mine. “When you two idiots finish fucking on my front lawn, see yourselves out.”
“We’re done, we’re done,” the woman says, jumping to her feet, before abnormally large hands grab her by the neck and force her back down.
“The fuck we are,” he says, his fingers curling around her neck.
Finn tugs at my shirt, moving my attention from the crazy couple back to him. “We’ll meet you inside.”
“I think I’d rather stay out here,” I protest.
Finn grunts and fists the back of my shirt. His stormy blue eyes search mine before he pulls me, dragging me behind him.
“Holy fuck, stop! It hurts.”
“Good, next time, remember who’s in charge here.”
His grip tightens around my shirt as he punches a code into the door lock and turns the knob.
With one vicious yank, he launches me into the foyer. Pain shoots up my hip where it meets the hardwood floor. I long to scream out in pain, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing my discomfort. The man who murdered my mother will never get the upper hand. I’ll suffer in silence until he kills me because anything else is unacceptable. Finnigan O’Malley may abuse my body, hurt me, degrade me, make me nothing more than an object to be used by him, and god knows who else. But I’ll never be his victim. I only have control of my reactions, and I’ll never give him the satisfaction of breaking me.
