Despite my determination, I don’t think I’m prepared for what I see next. My steps feel heavy as Seamus leads me into the locker room. Curran and Declan follow, or at least I think it’s them. I don’t see them as much as sense them behind me.
My focus stays ahead, toward the people gathered along the open area. Wren waits beside Angus. Both glance over their shoulders as I near, and Seamus releases my hand. Wren smiles softly when she sees me, the fear riddling her beautiful face easing slightly. Angus is eerily quiet, the sadness darkening his round face making him resemble a man further into his years, and one who’s used to hardship.
I want to hug them both. But I’m not here for them, not now. So I inch closer, a chill finding its way down my spine when I see Killian.
On the surface, anger appears to dominate his physique. Tack on his large and imposing size and I should only sense his menace. Yet all I feel is a helplessness so heavy, it cloaks his aura like a winter blanket.
Sofia stands loyally beside him, offering her strength and comfort despite the tears looming in her eyes. She lifts her hand, beckoning me closer. I reach out to her, clasping it hard when my stare travels ahead.
Finn is standing with his head pressed against his arm, leaning heavily against the wall. Pieces of broken wood and protective gear litter the tile floor. His hands are soaked with blood, and the skin over his knuckles shredded down to the bone. But it’s his profound breaths and slumped shoulders that give me a glimpse of the pain within.
And it’s awful.
And heartbreaking.
And everything he doesn’t deserve to feel.
“Finn,” Sofia says, leading me forward. “Sol is here.”
The overwhelming emotion claiming the air is fear: fear that Finn is somewhere he can’t recover from, and that they’ve lost the brother they so adore. But as much as I’m scared, too, I know he’s not gone. He’s strong, and brave, and capable. He always has been . . .
So as I approach, there’s no hesitation. All that remains is the love I feel for him. My hand finds his shoulder. “Hi, baby,” I whisper.
My tone is so soft, I’m not quite sure he hears me until he lifts his head. “Are you really here?” he asks, his tone as ragged as his breathing.
“Yes, I’m here with you,” I answer, my voice breaking.
His face, swollen from his fight scrunches tight. “I’m fucked up,” he says, his deep timbre pained. “I’m really fucked up.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t get better.” I swallow the aching lump that builds. “Nor does it keep me from loving you.” When he doesn’t respond, I inch closer, losing the space that remains between us. “Let me help you, okay? Let me love you like you need me to.” He doesn’t move, his still form ravishing what remains of my hope. “Finn . . . please let me.”
Again, his face scrunches, revealing the depths of his torment. He lowers himself to his knees, circling my waist and pulling me to him. I curl around him, clutching his head as he releases his anguish, and allowing myself to release my own.
“I’m sorry,” he chokes. “I’m so damn sorry . . .”
CHAPTER 30
Finn
Ever have a psychological breakdown? If you haven’t let me be the first to tell you they suck. A lot of what happened when I made it back to the changing area is still blocked from my mind. I remember some things: my hands swelling and the skin tearing open as I bust shit up. And lashing out like a crazed beast when anyone neared me.
The voices of my brothers were muffled, like I was somehow being held underwater. It was Sofia’s voice that kept me from becoming fully submerged yet it was Sol’s presence that dragged me from the water. She lifted me out of that hell filled with hate and misery.
I hate Norman Kessler. I hate what he did to me and every kid he got his hands on, every little boy who was afraid to tell on him and who was too small and weak to fight back.
He tore me up. He broke me down. But no way will I let him keep me there. Not anymore.
Sol stays glued to my side as we make our way out of the arena. My family surrounds us, but they’re not alone. Fighters from varying weight classes―some who faced off―but more who just came to watch, gather around us, creating a wall and blocking reporters that dare to edge close.
I hear the questions, all of them. They don’t know much, but they know and saw enough. I ignore them and so does my family. The voices fade in and out as my mind struggles to put one foot in front of the other.
With how I’m feeling, it should take forever to reach Kill’s car. But before I know it, we’re suddenly there. As the door shuts tight behind me, I robotically reach for my seatbelt and snap it in place.
Sol settles against me, resting her head on my shoulder as my arm curls around her.
“Seamus has your car,” Sofia tells her from the front. “Where would you like him to drop it off?”