Finn POV

Confessing my feelings for Cheryl did nothing but crush me. I wanted her acceptance desperately, but instead, she made it brutally clear just how deeply she despised me.

While driving to Denny's, her rejection repeated relentlessly in my mind, hurting more than the recurring nightmare of that child that plagued my sleep.

I had tried everything to prove myself to her, but nothing was going to erase her perspective of me. She loathed me with a passion I couldn't change.

"I'm not yours, and I will never be."

"I don't love you... I've never hated anyone as much as I hate you."

"Remember this, I'd rather die than love you. You know why? Because you're going to be alone for the rest of your life. No one wants you. No one wants a ruthless monster with a heart as black and rotten as yours. You'll die alone, Finn. Oh no, I'll be there to watch you die the most painful of deaths, and I'll make sure you remember all the pain you've caused. And when you're gone, no one will mourn you or remember you. If they do, it'll be to spit on your grave, if you even get one, because the earth doesn't welcome sinners like you."

Her words were crystal clear. She would never love me. I've never felt more rejected than I did that day.

She haunted me. I was losing my mind. Hell, I was tearing up like a child, which was the most ridiculous emotion I'd ever felt. Cheryl made me weep more than I had in a decade. I had to pull over, park on the side of the road, and line up some coke, inhaling it like it was my lifeline. I was supposed to feel numb, no pain, but here I was, falling apart in the small confines of my car.

I sat there for almost an hour, staring at nothing.

I had killed a man who had a family. I didn't know what his wife and child must be going through right now. I truly was a sinner, just like those monsters on my list.

The worst part about Cheryl? She was right, and I knew it. I was rotten and unwanted. Alone. And I would absolutely die alone because that's how I've lived most of my life. When I'm gone, no one will remember me fondly. People will hate me, cursed at the ruthless murderer who slaughtered without mercy.

I didn't regret anything, but for the first time, I was scared—terrified, even. Scared of being alone. Scared of dying alone. And that fear kept gnawing at me as I found myself drifting back to the memories of my eighth birthday. I missed my family more than I ever let on.

I remembered everything like it was yesterday. When my mom brought in the cake. It was the last cake I ever had. After that day, I hated cakes, they reminded me of the darkness, of hopelessness.

I remembered blowing out the candles and cutting the cake with the small silver knife Mom brought from the kitchen.

I remembered Dad telling me to go with Mom when she could barely breathe. I remembered every word of the phone conversation he had that night. Everything was still so fresh.

Sitting there in my car, parked on the side of the road, I felt utterly alone. My birthday was the anniversary of my parents' deaths.

***

"So, I was thinking, we should all go to Thailand over summer break," Sharon suggested while we ate dinner.

I focused on my food, not sparing a glance at the two humans across from me, though I could feel their eyes on me.

"Finn, what do you think?" Denny asked, his tone a mix of excitement and doubt when I finally looked over at him.

I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell him not to bother. But then I saw the hope shimmering in their eyes. Those eyes had been looking at me like that ever since I lost everything. Denny and Sharon couldn't erase my pain, but they tried with everything they had. They were my replacement parents. They took me in and gave me a home when I had nowhere to go.

"Sounds good." I forced a smile, and Sharon grinned as she began clearing the dishes.

"How's school?" Denny asked.

"Good," I muttered, still trying, though it felt impossible with everything swirling in my head.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Denny exhaling a slow, weary sigh. "Great! We need that brain of yours in the company. Just three more semesters and you'll be an engineer," he said, beaming with pride over something I didn't care about. Everything good I was doing with my life was for him, school, the holidays I pretended to enjoy, it was all for him. I wanted to be the person he believed I could be. But I couldn't shake April 20th from my mind.

"Can't wait," I lied, forcing another smile.

"The idea for the new flooring? It tripled our partner's earnings. Today I got emails from multiple clients, some even wanting to invest." He chuckled.

"People like what they can see," I said, laughing along.

"That was all you. Honestly, I'm proud of you for everything. For the lives you've saved and the meaning you've given others. You're smart, and you're good. You know that, right?" Denny said, standing up and heading toward the kitchen.

I stared after him, realizing just how much better he deserved. I was nowhere near perfect. I was a mess. "I wanted to talk to you about something," I muttered nervously, shoving my hands into my pockets as I stood up and leaned against the island.

"What about?" Denny asked, pausing to look at me.

I took a deep breath, swallowing hard, but it didn't calm the anxiety gnawing at me. In a low voice, I said, "I was thinking... maybe you and Sharon could adopt a kid? A little one who wants a family."

His eyes narrowed in confusion, staring at me like I'd lost my mind. "I already have a child," he said firmly.

It was hard, but I knew it was the right thing for them. I was damaged. I couldn't provide the happiness they deserved. I would only bring them shame if I was ever caught in the act. There were other kids—kids like the ones whose fathers I had taken away, who needed a family.

"I know, but—"

Denny cut me off. "I said I have a kid," he snapped, his voice loud with anger. Nothing was going to change his mind.

I had to be better. I had to be good. That was all.

My phone vibrated. It was a message from one of my men. "Cheryl is on the second floor, searching. Should we get her?"

"No! Keep everything locked. I'm on my way," I replied.

"I think I should get going. Steph needs me," I lied to the man who was clearly hurt by my suggestion.

He was silent for a moment before saying, "Make sure she doesn't pass out this time."

Once again, my lie didn't work.

~

Cheryl POV

That night, I was left tangled in my thoughts, my mind racing with contemplation. The room felt stiflingly empty, though far from peaceful. The bed scratched at my skin, making it impossible to relax. I found myself sitting up, restless.

Earlier that evening, I'd heard the engines roar to life as they left the house, leaving me wide-eyed and on edge. I couldn't stop worrying about what Finn might be plotting. Fear clutched at my chest as I prayed fervently for my parents' safety, hoping my words hadn't set him off.

I was scared, no, terrified. My thoughts spiraled out of control, each one worse than the last, until I was once again wrestling with my limited options.

Fear clung to me, as usual. I was spiraling, my mind bouncing between options I didn't want to face. If Finn wasn't planning to kill me, then something else, something equally sinister, was my punishment. He was not the type to forgive easily, and I knew I had to brace myself for whatever consequence he had in store. All I could do was hope that he would leave my parents out of it.

The most unsettling part is that I still didn't know what Finn truly wanted. His motives were unknown to me, I had no insight into his endgame. What if this wasn't about revenge at all? He said it himself, I was innocent.

But what terrified me more was the undeniable truth, I was never leaving this house. I had tried so many times to escape, and every single attempt ended in a miserable failure.

Still, I couldn't be the girl who gave up. If I stayed locked in the cage they called my room, waiting for a miracle that would never come, I knew even my parents wouldn't forgive me. I was sure of that.

Every decision I'd made felt like a colossal mistake, but there I was, standing across the room, gripping the doorknob, mentally whispering to myself, Now or never.

I peered down the hallway, left and right. It was empty, as usual. I started testing the doorknobs of each room, praying one would be unlocked so I could find a phone and call my dad.

But each door was locked tight. The house was eerily quiet, and it wasn't even that late, barely eight in the evening. I tried one knob after another, growing more and more desperate.

Going upstairs crossed my mind, but that place was a haunting memory I wasn't ready to revisit. The last time I was there, I'd been held at gunpoint, nearly forced into submission.

Just as I was about to give up and retreat to my prison, I tried one last door, and it swung open. The room was empty and stunningly decorated, but what caught my eye, were the weapons strewn across the bed. My breath hitched, and for a moment, I was frozen in disbelief.

Swallowing hard, I stepped cautiously toward the phone, keeping a wide berth from the armed bed. I knew what those things were capable of. I'd seen them used on Amelia and the others. I couldn't even imagine pulling the trigger myself.

I quickly dialed 911, my heart racing with a flicker of hope. I didn't know my exact location, but surely they could trace the call.

When the operator answered, "911, what's your emergency?" I exhaled in relief, finding I had a lifeline at last.

"I'm Cheryl Mason, and I've been kidnapped for weeks," I rushed out my pulse racing. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt like rescue was within reach.

But then came the hit. The response that shattered my hope. "Of course, darling. I'm well aware."

My blood ran cold. Finn was on the other line.

My knees weakened as dread sank deep into my bones, and my mind went blank from overriding. The call disconnected. How could this be happening? I was too stunned to react. The phone slipped from my hand as I stared at the door, waiting for all hell to break loose.

It opened, and there he was, Finn, with his men flanking him. He looked exactly like the monster he was, smirking beneath the shadow of his hood, hands tucked in his pockets. He was enjoying this, torturing me was his idea of fun.

And I, shaking and terrified, was no match. But I wasn't done yet. I bolted toward the bed, determined to arm myself, but froze as I heard the distinct sound of multiple guns cocking. My breath was shaky, my eyes darting between the men behind Finn, each pointing their weapons at me.

Feigning reluctance, Finn gestured lazily with his fingers, signaling for the guns to be lowered.
"Go ahead," he permitted me to continue.

Desperate, I grabbed the closest gun, a long rifle, and pointed it at him.

He didn't flinch. Instead, he tilted his head and casually pointed to the ceiling. I followed his gaze, cameras. There were cameras everywhere.

"I have eyes everywhere," he bragged with a wicked grin.

He arched a brow, spinning his index finger in the air. "It's pointed at yourself, by the way." He informed with mock sincerity, taking a step forward.

"Don't," I warned, my heart threatening to burst out of my chest and he stopped then.

Frustrated, I turned the gun around, fumbling to find the trigger. It was hard to figure out. I dropped it and scrambled through the pile of weapons, looking for something simpler to use, all while ignoring his taunts.

"I'm just gonna sit down," He motioned at the armchair, requesting my approval. When I nodded, he strolled over to it, sitting down casually, crossing his legs, and watching me with far too much interest. He was so cocky, so sure I wouldn't pull the trigger.

Rage bubbled up inside me, but I kept my focus. I had to stay calm. I searched through the weapons on the bed like I wasn't shitting myself.

"Here, this should do," he called my attention. He had pulled out a pistol, reloading it with a smirk. I stopped and watched him until I acknowledged his intention. He slid the pistol across the floor toward me.

I froze, staring at the gun at my feet, and then at him. His smug expression burned into me. My mind is racing. Was this a trap? Slowly, I bent down and picked up the gun, keeping my eyes on Finn the entire time.

Yes, this will do.

For the first time in weeks, I felt a surge of power. I aimed the gun directly at him.

How about now, Finn? I wondered silently.

Barefoot, with stained gauze on my head, I must have looked like I'd lost my mind, but I didn't care.

That day, I did exactly what Dad had taught me. I stayed a safe distance from the bad guy and aimed.

"You're going to let me go," I warned, locking eyes with the man thoughtfully studying me. My tone was firm and steady. I couldn't help feeling proud of myself because, for the first time since waking up in that godforsaken building, I felt something I hadn't in a long time, power. Courage. And I wasn't ready to let it slip away until I got what I wanted.

"Nope." He tilted his head, that infuriating smirk plastered on his face as if he thought this was all some kind of joke.
As if he was sure I couldn't pull the trigger.

"I won't ask you again, Finn. You will let me go," I warned, swallowing hard.

Why does he have to be so stubborn?

Just like Dad always said, and all the movies I'd watched, bad guys surrendered when a gun was pointed at them. But Finn Hayes didn't even flinch. He was entertained. He was enjoying this.

He leaned forward and let out a low laugh. "Or what? You're going to shoot me? I remember that night when I subdued you, and you did nothing because you don't know how." He snorted, his eyes darkening the way they always did. "Unless... you want me to believe you enjoyed that kiss?" He smirked again.

My vision blurred as the memories of that night replayed in my mind. The pain, the shame, all of it rushed back as I remembered Finn kissing me, despite my resistance. The thought pierced through me like a blade to the chest.

"Shut up!" I yelled.

But he didn't recoil. He didn't even care that I was armed. He stood up and began advancing, while I instinctively backed away, even though I was the one holding the gun, and I should've had the power.

"Finn, stay where you are," I warned again, my voice shaking. My heart thumped in my chest, torn between anger and terror. All I wanted was to protect myself, to defend myself.

His eyes burned with fury and something far darker as he whispered, "Maybe I should do it again. Maybe I should do worse."

How dare he threaten me like that? So all those tears he shed were just an act? My hatred for him was absolute at that moment.

His words gave me the justification I needed, I squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, and I watched as Finn bled.

At first, he looked at me with bewildered eyes, his brows furrowing in disbelief. Then he glanced down at the blood pouring from him, before his gaze returned to me, slower this time. He fell to his knees, then collapsed fully with a dull thud.

I stood frozen, my mouth agape. I'd done it. I'd killed someone.

I was a murderer.

I don't know how, but my body followed him,

Before I knew it, my legs gave out, and I collapsed beside him, the gun slipping from my hands as my head hit the floor hard, sending another wave of pain crashing through me as darkness closed in.