Cheryl POV

The icy shock of cold water pummeling my skin jolted me awake.

I was drenched, water dripping from every part of my body.

Another bucketful cascaded over me, cutting off my breath. I suffocated and choked, gasping for any relief. And coughed uncontrollably, that by now, it was impossible to tell if the water on my face was from the buckets or my tears.

They kept throwing freezing water at me, snapping me awake whenever I drifted too close to passing out.

My wrists were shackled high above me, though the room was so pitch-black I couldn't make out what I was bound to. Still, I knew the faces of my torturers. They were the same two men always lurking behind Finn. The same ones who knocked me down when I pulled the trigger and sent the small piece of iron into Finn's chest.

They reveled in my suffering from their cruelty, taking pleasure in my torment.

And part of me understood. I knew I deserved it. I had pulled the trigger and aimed it right at Finn's heart. I was a murderer. I had earned every ounce of this pain.

If Finn was dead, I could never live with myself.

I had only wanted to escape, but instead, I plunged into the worst depth of agony. I never thought I'd be capable of killing someone, yet here I was, chained, suffocating in darkness for the crime I committed.

"Don't worry, you'll die, but not just yet. You need to feel the pain first," a voice hissed.

For a moment, I could breathe. My heart raced in time with my short-lived relief, but it didn't last.

This was worse than anything I'd ever endured. It was purgatory, only without the promise of an end. I was already serving my time in hell, and I had long since given up on myself. Life had always been cruel, and now I was paying the price for the choices I'd made.

I killed someone. I killed Finn. I was no better than him, and now I deserved to die.

"She needs to suffer for that bitchy attitude of hers," another voice, just as monstrous, growled. "If she can handle a gun, she can handle this, badass, right?"

The room was dark, the next hit came out of nowhere as a brutal blow struck my jaw.

My head snapped sideways, and my ears rang so loudly I thought I'd gone deaf. For a terrifying moment, the world went mute. I didn't even hear my own scream.

My mouth was still open when another wave of ice-cold water crashed over me, stealing my breath once more. I was gagging, coughing relentlessly. They were drowning me.

I couldn't speak, couldn't cry out. I could only accept it. This was my life now. I was utterly exhausted, my spirit broken. I felt motherless, fatherless, homeless, just completely alone.

If I could turn back time, I wouldn't have left my bedroom for that party. I would have gone with Mom to Washington all those years ago when I had the chance.

If I could rewind time, I never would've pulled that trigger. I never would've left the cage I'd been locked in.

Regret was my only companion now. I blamed no one but myself.

My stubbornness had gotten me here, and now I was paying for every foolish choice. I am painfully tied up, broken, physically and mentally, with nothing left but regret eating away at me. Regret for every second of my life.

I had become a murderer.

Now, I was being tortured, brutalized, and scarred because I made the mistake of leaving my room for a party.

~

Finn POV

"You need to rest," Denny advised, watching me struggle to lift myself off the bed, only to fail.

"I can't rest. I have things to do. School, the kids to check on, construction projects to oversee. Most importantly, I have people to kill," I snapped, irritation spiking as pain flared through me.

"Well, you won't be able to do any of that if you don't heal first," Denny retorted, louder than necessary.

He'd been furious ever since this whole mess started, never passing up a chance to voice his disapproval. He'd hated the idea of capturing Cheryl from the start and knowing she had shot me only made it worse for him.

"I can't believe she actually shot you," Steph muttered, pacing the room for the hundredth time, her hair disheveled, like she was on the verge of losing it.

Honestly, I wasn't surprised Cheryl shot me. She hated me. She knew I was a ruthless killer, that I was after her family. I'd hurt her in more ways than I could count, even if I hadn't meant to.

But I had pushed her too far. I knew that. Cheryl wasn't a killer. She was just a girl, a scared girl who didn't know what to do with a gun. I tried convincing myself of that.

What hurt the most was realizing that if she had the courage to pull the trigger, she must truly despise me. She was terrified of me, desperate to protect herself from me. In her eyes, I was a monster. That's all I'd ever be to her.

I wished things could've been different, Cheryl.

Lying there with a bandage over my chest, I knew I would never have the person I wanted more than life itself. But even so, I would take the pain over and over again if it meant I could still see her. I didn't care how many bullets she fired to kill me, I'd take them all. Her beauty was my solace. My girl was extraordinarily stunning and uncorrupted by this vicious world. The images of her the last time I saw her still replayed in my mind. The thought made me smile. 

"Where's Cheryl?" I asked.

"Get some rest, son," Denny's voice cracked, his emotions barely contained.

"Where is she?" I pressed. I needed to know she was safe.

"She's in her room," Teddy answered with a reassuring smile.

"Don't touch her," I practically warned everyone in the room.

"Your wish is our command. She's safe, asleep," Teddy assured me, exchanging glances with Reddy.

"You can all leave now. I'll rest," I said, smirking at Denny, who rolled his eyes in response. "Steph, go check on Cheryl," I ordered, turning to the girl who promised she'd watch over her for me.

Steph let out a small, bitter laugh, her expression torn between anger and confusion. I knew her so well to understand she was mad at Cheryl for hurting me. "I'm not ready to see her."

"Please," I pleaded, my gaze flicking to Liam, who sat staring blankly at the wall.

"No! What's wrong with you? She shot you, Finn. She could've killed you. SHE SHOT YOU NEARLY IN THE HEART. That's how much she hates you! Why are you still acting like this? This isn't a joke anymore, this is reality and it is getting serious. Cheryl won't stop until she escapes!" Steph spat, throwing her hands in the air.

Her words were the cold truth. Everything she said rang painfully true. That was exactly how Cheryl felt.

As the last of Steph's words hung in the air, the door swung open and Sharon stepped in.

"She? Who? What are you talking about—" Sharon started, confusion and panic spreading across her face as we all froze.

Up until now, we'd succeeded in keeping Sharon out of everything. She believed I had been shot during a robbery at a supermarket, that I'd tried to help a cashier and gotten caught in the crossfire. Sharon had no idea about the other side of my life. She didn't know about Cheryl at all.

Denny had convinced his wife that all the men in my house were here to protect me for some apparent reason. And they were, though, in reality, I didn't need protection. I was more of a shield for them than they were for me.

But now, Sharon was about to find out who I truly was. She was about to discover that I wasn't the man she thought she had raised.

~

Cheryl POV

The punishment dragged on for what felt like an eternity of endless, hellish loop.

I was exhausted. My tears had long since dried up, and my face throbbed in pain. Every inch of me ached.

This was my hell, endless beatings, doused with ice-cold water that pierced my skin like shards. My shoulders burned from being suspended, my arms twisted at unnatural angles. It wouldn't have surprised me if my hands were broken. I dangled there, feet barely grazing the floor.

They fed me water and bread, shoving it into my mouth in the most brutal way.

All I could think about was home, the scent of Dad's favorite honey, and the games we played at Christmas before Mom left. I remembered the half-burnt Thanksgiving turkey Dad and I cooked last year. I could almost smell the rain in my favorite park on our street back in Eureka Springs, a scent that, at that moment, felt priceless. It was the smell of home.

I wasn't trembling out of fear. I was shaking because of the water continually soaking me. My body was broken from the relentless torture, but in a twisted way, I accepted the punishment because, in some deep part of me, I felt I deserved it. I was fallible, I was human. And somehow, I thought everything that had happened was my fault.

To escape the pain, I let my mind drift to my eighteenth birthday last month. Mom had promised she'd visit in the spring, and I was sure she was in Eureka Springs now, but I wasn't.

I remembered passing my driving test and the misshapen cake Dad had baked for me. It was hideous, but we'd laughed about it that evening until we devoured every last bite.

But no happy memory could save me now. A fist slammed into my jaw, just as vicious as all the others. The pain was searing, unrelenting. It was inhuman. It sliced through my very soul.

No matter how hard I tried to escape in my mind, I was still here, living this. A whimper finally broke from my throat as the next blow hit the other side of my face.

I couldn't contain the pain anymore. A headache shot through my skull like a bullet, and before I knew it, I was crying again. I could taste blood in my mouth.

"You haven't seen anything yet," one of them spat at me. And I knew then, I was finished.

I shook my head weakly, pleading for mercy even though they couldn't see me. Even though I knew it wouldn't change a thing.

I was kidnapped without cause, and now I was a murderer because of it.

"Fucking bitch," they snarled.

I'm sorry, I whispered in my mind, but I wasn't apologizing to them. I was apologizing to my dad, for letting him down.

~

Finn POV

"This is spiraling out of control, don't you think?" Liam muttered, his voice thick with unease.

He was sitting on the edge of my bed, keeping watch over me like he'd promised Denny he would.

"I've killed people, Liam. One bullet doesn't mean the plan's falling apart."

"She could've killed you," he reminded me, the same thing everyone kept saying. The pain was etched across his face.

"But I'm still here," I shot back. "Besides, you could've buried me without anyone ever finding out the truth." I tried to make a joke, but it only deepened Liam's frown. "Cheryl isn't a killer. She was scared and angry. It is my fault, not hers," I said quietly.

His eyes locked onto mine. "That's not the point, Finn. Don't you get it? She's not a killer, but she's starting to fight back. This is getting dangerous. You either need to let her go or do what you set out to do from the beginning." He frowned.

My jaw almost hit the floor. Was he seriously suggesting I kill Cheryl? Liam, of all people? "You've got to be kidding," I snapped, my voice low with disbelief as anger flickered inside me.

"No, Finn! Look around you. You've never been shot before, ever! But she shot you. She's going to kill you because right now, all she wants is to escape, and you're standing in her way."

His words cut deeper through the lies I convinced myself. I swallowed hard, forcing the bile back down. "You don't know her," I muttered, but my voice wavered.

"And neither do you." He let out a dry, bitter laugh. "You've known her for what, a month?" His brow furrowed, and his eyes flashed with frustration.

He was pushing my patience buttons, and I hated how right he was. "I'm not letting her go, and I'm definitely not killing her. She is mine, I choose to keep her. She will get tired of fighting me and then get to know me. She will understand I am not her enemy. She just needs time." I nodded at Liam. "I swear, if anyone lays a hand on her, I'll kill them myself." My voice trembled with rage, and I could feel the fury twisting my features.

"Why?" he shouted, jumping up from the bed. "For fucksake, why, Finn?"

"Because I love her, okay?" The words burned as they left my mouth, raw and painful.

He stared at me for a long moment before speaking softly. "You're choosing a grenade, Finn."

I know. But she was all I wanted.

I looked away, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. "When I am with her, it feels like home. It feels like twelve years ago. I am happy and excited for each following moment, I am alive. And I'd give anything to go back to that time, to feel the warmth before everything went cold."

***

I was alone after Denny left for the night. At least Sharon hadn't lost it when he told her everything. She just needed time before she could look at me again, or so he said. I wasn't sure if he was telling the whole truth, but I knew Sharon could be emotional.

That night, it wasn't the physical pain from my wound that haunted me, but the sharper sting of rejection. I wanted Cheryl to accept me, to love me. But I didn't know when or how that would ever happen. And then, there was the fear she'd managed to sink into me. I was running out of time, and she still didn't want me.

I fought with myself to stay away from the coke stashed in my nightstand drawer. It was calling me. I craved the high, the clarity, the sense of being enough. It was a choice, coke or Cheryl.

I made my decision. Forcing myself to stand, I went with the latter. She was better than any high. I needed to know if she was fine because there had been a part of me instilled with suspicion about her protection while I lay down here healing. Everyone in this house hated her for harming me and everyone in this house would do anything for my well-being.

I needed to see her. That's what led me to her room, but when I got there, it was empty. The bed was neatly made, it looked like she had never even been there.

My heart pounded harder, the kind of pressure that told me if the gunshot didn't kill me, a heart attack might.

"Where's Cheryl?" I asked, panic rising in my voice, as I halted at the bottom of the staircase, my gaze darting toward the busy men on the first floor.

~

Cheryl POV

I trembled, consumed by both physical and emotional pain.

I was starving, dehydrated, and completely drained when the door swung open. Light streamed in, cutting through the dimness of the half-lit room.

The two men torturing me immediately stopped and turned toward the door, just as I did, squinting against the brightness, trying to focus.

And then, I saw him.

He was standing there, framed by the light. I couldn't see his full face or the expression in his eyes, but I knew it was him.

He was alive. He wasn't dead. I hadn't killed him. Relief washed over me, a flood of forgiveness from my guilt. For a fleeting moment, I felt like all my sins had been absolved. Gratitude filled me, until Finn stepped toward me, and I remembered.

I had shot him. I had tried to kill him.

Of course, he was here for revenge. His men had done their part, now he was here to finish it.

Earlier, I thought I'd known fear. I hadn't. True terror gripped me then, flooding every nerve with panic. I felt it, this dread, this very helplessness. My heart raced with the anticipation of what I knew was about to happen.

When he stepped closer, I could see it in his eyes—they were darker than I'd ever seen them. His expression was cold, his jaw clenched, his nose flaring, and though his hands stayed tucked in his hoodie pockets, anger radiated off him in waves.

I had never seen him this furious, and it terrified me.

He glanced at his men, then back at me. If he could read my eyes, he'd see my remorse, but I couldn't find the words. My throat had closed. I was frozen, utterly petrified.

To my shock, what happened next was just like Finn. I gasped, my weak scream inaudible in my dried throat.

The loud bangs echoed through the room, making my eyes involuntarily snap shut. I braced myself, waiting for the end, for my body to stop.

But instead of pain, I heard the heavy thuds of bodies hitting the ground. Slowly, I opened my eyes. There, right in front of me, his men lay bleeding out, their fingers twitching before they went still. Blood pooled around them.

Once again, people had died because of me.

Frozen in terror, my gaze locked on the lifeless bodies, I sensed Finn moving closer. I had nowhere to run, no way to escape. Finding my voice, I began to plead through low, hoarse sobs, hoping for mercy. I wasn't sure if he even heard me.

Finn crouched down, retrieving a key from one of the fallen men. It took him a moment to tear his gaze away from the corpses before he stood, wincing slightly from what I assumed was the gunshot wound.

He came toward me again, and I wanted to scream apologies, to beg him not to hurt me, but instead, he did the opposite. Without a word or a glance in my direction, he unlocked my chains.

As soon as I was free, my body gave in to the numbness I'd been anticipating. But this time, I didn't hit the ground. Finn caught me, lowering himself to the floor with me in his arms until he was sitting back on his heels.

I should have seen hatred in his eyes, but there was only concern as he examined my face.

Confusion clouded my mind as I asked in a faint, raspy voice, "Why don't you kill me?"

He only shook his head slowly, gently stroking my jawline with his fingers.

I waited for an explanation, but he didn't speak. He just kept caressing my hair and my face.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I felt a strange sense of peace. I was awake, aware, and yet I was cradled in my captor's arms.

His heartbeat was steady and loud, a rhythm I found strangely comforting. He was alive.

Why wasn't he killing me? Why wasn't he seeking revenge?

But Finn was a man of his word. He had promised to keep me alive.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Fresh tears streamed down my cheeks, and I felt Finn wipe them away with his warm thumb.