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darklydeliciousdesires · 3 months

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London Will Burn - Chapter Seven.

Huge thanks to my little audience for your continued investment in this. Your commentary gives me joy to read, so don't be shy, DO let me know what you think of it :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,815

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI.

The feeling of something solid, inflexible and metal hitting his arm preceded it, the irate scream of the girl he had wronged in trying to do right for his father, despite his own feelings. “You fucking bastard, Sean! You fucking cunt! How dare you do that, how fucking dare you!”

Repeated strikes hit his arm and chest, the cosh she wielded unlike anything he’d ever felt strike him, his head only narrowly missed when he put his arm up to block the blow. That’s when she changed trajectory and instead, sent a painful welt across his ribs, her next catching his cheekbone and splitting the skin. “Fuck you! Fucking fuck you!”

“I’m sorry, Rin,” he began, grabbing her arms and preventing any further blows, Finn coming between them and hauling her back. “I’m sorry.”

“Catherine, what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing? For Christ's sake, calm down, girl! What’s the matter, eh?” he growled, yanking her away from his son, Rin glaring unblinkingly.

Her rage was palpable, her cheeks puce, teeth gritted. “Ask your fucking son what the matter is.”

Finn didn’t have chance to say he’d prefer it to come from her, Rin shaking herself loose of his grip and fleeing, running up the street to jump into a waiting Maybach, the car roaring away as he turned to view his son. “What in god’s name was all of that?”

Gingerly touching a hand to his cheek, he didn’t think the bone was broken, although the split over skin hurt like hell and was pouring with blood. “Trust me, it was bad. The Strand isn’t the ideal location to reveal it, either.” Twenty minutes later and they were in the kitchen back at home, Sean holding a towel full of ice to his face while explaining the event that had prompted him to receive a beating via an irate blonde brandishing a cosh.

Finn stood and absorbed it all before speaking, which gave an also present Marian plenty of room to open her mouth. “You bloody did what?”

“My methods might not have been orthodox, but they yielded results.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Not orthodox? Not fucking orthodox? Jesus Christ! What you did was vile!”

Sean was incredulous. Not because he didn’t know what he done was wrong, but that his mother of all people was the one pouring scorn upon him for it. Marian Wallace was not exactly known for her genial magnanimity.

“Son, you made the wrong choice. Getting Kevin’s back up like that, for fuck’s sake! We want him compliant,” he began, Sean cutting in.

“And now he is, so what? Fucking what, dad? I did what you told me and secured the deal. You should be happy.”

“For the love of god,” Finn groaned, shaking his head. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Oh, come the bloody hell on!” he scoffed, reeling from the reaction he was receiving. “It isn’t like half of our dealings are in any way, shape or form cogently principled, so I fail to see why I’m being lambasted here! Honestly, you pair of all people are lecturing me about morality? That’s rich.”

Marian was incensed. “Sean, she’s eighteen fucking years old, and you took advantage of her!”

“Oh, what? Scared that my actions will have you cast out of Diane Cavanagh’s elite social circle are you, mum?” he charged her with, his mother narrowing her eyes. Of course, he was right. The moral high ground she had climbed upon was for no other reason than how all of this would reflect upon her and his father.

Finn leaned a white knuckled hand against the counter, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It isn’t how we handle business, son. It isn’t how we continue receiving respect, to counter it with such fucking disrespect,” Finn began, Sean’s mouth dropping open in incredulity.

“Yet you fucking had me kneecap someone only three weeks ago?” he charged with a snort.

His father pointed a stern finger. “You’ll not fucking interrupt me! You’ve been in this for four years, you ought to understand the way we operate by now. Using a man’s daughter against him as a bargaining chip is not how we remain professional, exert our dominance, or come to an agreement.”

Sean smirked, and his mother had to be held back from slapping him for his gall. “Funny, that. Because my dominance is exactly what led to the agreement we sought being completed.” He closed his eyes momentarily and saw her there beneath him, at the mercy of his cock, almost crying for how good he gave it to her.

His guts then prickled uncomfortably. Again.

“You absolute bloody shit, Sean!” his mother raged, opening her mouth to continue, her husband cutting her up.

“I’ll handle it,” he assured her, grasping her upper arms and kissing her head before turning to his youngest. “Office, now.”

He followed his father silently from the kitchen, wondering just how large the barrage of shit he was about to have heaped upon him would be. Entering the office, Finn went to his whiskey and poured two glasses, passing one to his son, his free hand then clipping him hard straight around the head.

“That’s for the mess you left with your actions. You’ll fucking learn your lesson there, boyo.” His eyes narrowed, the portly man staring him down for a few moments before his smile began to grow.

“However, you got the signature and truly, that’s all I care about, me lad. I had to come down on you a bit, because of your mother. You have to learn, though, we keep our messes hidden and easily cleanable, and you should have known that the girl would publicly give you hell when she found out. She’s her fucking father’s daughter, that one. You need to deal with it, should she make any more noise that brings our name and reputation into disrepute.”

Sean nodded; the message understood. “Shall do, dad.”

They remained silent for a time, sipping their drinks, Finn suddenly snorting softly with laughter.

“What?”

Sinking his whiskey, the elder of the Wallace’s shook his head. “Holy fuck, she really fucking came at you with both barrels blazing. Jesus wept!”

“I’m glad you find it so entertaining,” he pouted, his ribs and face still throbbing.

Finn lifted his chin, walking back to the whiskey bottle. “Learned your lesson there, eh?”

He had. It was a lesson learned in how to handle the nature of the business, how to be ruthless in a more covert way, to handle fallout but ultimately, how to keep the Wallace name both clean and on top. He’d also learned that emotional investment had its place, and it was not within the realms of subterfuge.

As for Finn, it was the moment that first sealed the notion over his son’s predisposition for reckless actions borne of emotional volatility. It also meant he had to involve himself in the deal to smooth things over, try to gauge whether Sean was likely to receive a bullet in the back of his head at some point in the future over his actions. That of course meant visiting Kevin personally.

While underneath, he truly didn’t give much of a shit over his son’s methods beyond wishing his punishment for them hadn’t been so public, he had to make appearances directly to the contrary as he sat with Kevin in his home office at the fireside, the men sipping whiskey.

“I ain’t happy. I really bloody ain’t, old lad. Using my daughter to hold me over a barrel like that? He went too fucking far. The fact he made it so I had to witness him fucking sexually brutalising my girl an’ all? Fuck that, and fuck him,” he spat, his eyes leaving the fire to stare menacingly at Finn.

He sighed, knowing this anger wouldn’t be quelled at any point soon. “I know, Kev. Believe me, I gave him a fucking broadside for his actions. I did.”

“If there wasn’t so much money tied up in all of this, so much to gain long term for me, and the fact I fucking think the world of you, trust me, Finn. I would have personally cut your fucking son from his ears to his arsehole for doing that to my girl. Fuck, I’m fucking surprised she only took a cosh to him and didn’t end up knifing him herself. She’s got one hell of a temper, my Catherine. He needs to know, though. That ain’t the way we do business. Not now, not ever.”

Finn nodded, in complete agreement, or at least seeming to be for appearances sake. True, he’d rather Sean hadn’t acted so below the belt where professionality was concerned, but at least it had secured a signature that Kevin should have given in the first place. “I’m in agreement with you there, mucker. However, if anyone is going to lay hands on my son, it isn’t you. Catherine gave him a damn good hiding, and it’s done with. We’ve signed, now let’s move on.”

Kevin saw it well In Finn's eyes, the flash of menace, the reason why within London’s reach, he was king. Of course, he returned it. Finn Wallace might’ve been king, but he was the treasury, one of the main investors into his projects, both above board and below. He only stayed for a further half an hour, gauging that Sean wasn’t in any danger of reprisal retribution, leaving the office just as Rin was alighting the stairs.

“I’m sorry, love,” he offered, resting his hands to her shoulders and placing a kiss on her head. He liked the girl, that much was true enough. He supposed in some small way he felt a little guilt that she’d been hurt by his son’s actions, but not much. “If it’s anything to you, he took himself off to casualty earlier. Fractured cheekbone and a broken rib.”

Rin sniffed, clenching her jaw. There was no way she would show weakness before the powerhouses that were her father and Finn Wallace. Never. “Your son means less than nothing to me. I appreciate you for apologising, though.” Finn went in the direction of the side door, Rin the lounge to grab the bottle of nail polish she’d left in there, going back up to her room and her vodka.

She treated herself to a very large bottle of Absolut Vanilla on her way back home from giving Sean the beating he deserved, but that she felt absolutely no better for having delivered to him. How could she, when the only thing she wanted was to kiss him rather than take a cosh to him? When all she wanted was for it not to have been true, for him not to have sold her out like that?

How could he, after the weekend they’d shared? Her father had shown her the video he’d received, of which she’d only been able to watch two seconds of before demanding he delete it. He’d recorded it on that first Friday afternoon, but surely, if that was all he’d needed, why had he turned up again? Moreover, why had he stayed right through until Sunday?

There’d been a connection there, she knew it, she was neither blind nor stupid. She wondered if he’d had his arm twisted into it, if he’d decided to use her, then during the weekend they’d spent together felt differently, only to have to resort to his original blackmail plan. Rin being Rin, she groaned at herself, sinking another measure of vodka.

“He used you for what he could get. Fucking deal with it. That’s what happened, anything else was all in your own head.”

But was it? Pondering upon it would do no good, trying to explain it to herself. It didn’t mean Sean Wallace and his fuckery did not live rent free in her mind for the foreseeable, though. Still, she moved on, continued a life without him in it, knowing that some pieces of that puzzle would forever remain incomplete.

As for Sean himself, he’d walked out of his father’s office that afternoon and back into life as normal, the deal went ahead as planned, and he tried not to give Rin too much of a second thought. Besides, so he heard on the grapevine, her plans to remain in London had changed just a few months later, the eldest of the Cavanagh children making an unexpected move overseas, for whatever reason.

Out of sight, out of mind. Or rather, she should have been, yet there was not a day that passed where the guilt of it and regret didn’t gnaw at Sean like an angry wolf. He knew she could have been the one thing in his life that was real, true and beautiful. He had nobody but himself to blame that what he’d felt spark between them never did flourish. Truly, he had no one else to admonish for the fact that for the relatively fleetingly short remainder of his life, Finn Wallace saw him as little more than an impulsive liability, steadily putting more and more trust in Alex Dumani than his own son.

And then, then everything changed years later with one visit to a tower block within the Albanian district, the mighty Finn Wallace taking his last breath because of the actions of a naive young gypsy boy and a loaded gun. It was the start of a chain of events that saw the Wallace empire topple into ruin, and would ultimately leave Sean almost dead on two separate occasions.

The second, after murdering the brutal enforcer and untrustworthy partner that was Koba, saw him hanging by his neck after a lengthy final showdown with the ex-policeman-turned-hitman Elliot Finch, the investors closing in to prevent Sean’s return to the top.

As he struggled, his air being cut off by the ratchet strap he dangled from, Sean saw white spots clouding his vision, trying desperately to loosen his crude noose. His eyes darted between Elliot and Billy, the latter begging the former to let him down.

This was it, he thought, sliding from the precipice of life and into death’s cold, gleaming jaws, his vision fading further, but not enough that when he heard a shot ring out, he didn’t see Elliot’s skull blown open, his body dropping. The jaws of death had indeed closed, but not around him.

Figures dressed in black suddenly swarmed the area, one running to Sean, swinging the rifle responsible for Elliot’s demise behind themselves and grasping the metalwork he was dangling from, brandishing a large knife. The pressure gave, air rushing back into his starved lungs, his body hitting the ground with a thud.

“Silas, get Billy. Get him in the fucking car, quickly.”

That voice. No. It couldn’t be.

Her hands reached for the strap, yanking it free of his neck, Sean gasping and gurgling, his vision still swimming as she pulled up the balaclava that had been covering her face.

Time had only made Catherine Cavanagh even more beautiful than he remembered.

He wheezed, attempting to speak, although he had not a single clue over what the hell to say to her, the lover he’d wronged almost seven years before. Now here she was, returned to him, saving his life.

He coughed, watching as one of the men she was with came running over, crouching to lift him.

“Why?” he eventually croaked, the burly man throwing him over his shoulder.

“Atticus, get rid of the bodies. Get them over to the plant, George knows you’re on the way.” The chemical plant. Sean remembered well, how Kevin Cavanagh disposed of those who displeased him. Except, there wasn’t a Kevin Cavanagh any longer, the man having passed away from stomach cancer three months before.

So, Catherine was back to take her place at the helm of the Cavanagh empire. What that meant for Sean was anybody’s guess, and he wagered he’d likely be the last to find out as he was bundled into the back of a black Volvo SUV, Rin climbing into the front, the large man who had carried him seating himself behind the wheel.

His focus cleared more as he lay against the cool leather upholstery, wondering where he was being taken. He didn’t trust at all that he was completely removed from the line of fire. Sure, Elliot had been terminated, but that didn’t ultimately equal his own safety. Or that of the person most important to him, all he had left in the world after his mother had shown her hand, every card within her grasp duplicitous and cunning, playing that hand against her own sons.

“Billy...”

Rin turned as he sat up, watching him struggle to pull a seatbelt around himself. “He’s being taken to a doctor, a very good one.”

“Who? And where?”

Of course, once he’d regained use of his voice, she had expected him to begin demanding answers. It was true to form if nothing else. “None of your concern. Suffice to say he shall be well looked after.”

“I want to know, Catherine.”

She turned again to view him, her eyes narrowed. “You are not in a position to demand anything of me. I saved your life, I saved your brother’s life, and I took out the menace who would never have ceased coming for you, had he been allowed to live.”

“Why?”

“You’ll find out in due course.”

“I fucking asked you why, Catherine!”

Oh no, not much ever put a dampener upon Sean Wallace’s ferocious temper. Before she could reply, though...

“Hey, white man. You do not speak with my boss like that, eh, or trust me, my friend, I do something about it. You will not like if I choose that, eh, so be quiet, yes?”

“And who the fuck are you?” Sean scoffed; his voice still hoarse.

Immediately, the driver slammed on the brakes in the middle of the dark, desolate road, taking about a month off the tire tread. Applying the handbrake, he turned in his seat, his coal black eyes staring unflinchingly. “I am former commander in Kenyan Army, white man. I am biggest, blackest thorn in your fucking side if you ever go against me or my boss, eh. I am living hell and no mercy. That is who I am. I am also the man who tell you to shut up, so do it. Shut up. Do not make me leave this driver’s seat.”

His pride burned, but Sean weighed up his odds. He was at an extreme disadvantage as it was; against a man who was not only ex-military, but also an estimated six feet three in height and around eighteen stones of pure muscle, he could guess. It likely would not end well for him. At all.

The driver continued, turning to Rin, doing a double take. “Why do you look like this, eh? You bite back biggest grin.”

She chuckled softly, reaching to squeeze his shoulder. “Ever my no-nonsense protector, Sokoro.” And boy, had he been just that for the past seven years.

He beamed, putting his foot down. “I promise this to your father, and I promise to you.” He then reached for the dials at the front of the car, turning up the heat. “Ahh, this is better.”

“Sok, it’s like a fucking sauna in here as it is!” Rin exclaimed, cracking her window a little.

“It is cold, yes? February in London is chilly, eh.”

“Well,” she hummed, “I suppose when you’re used to it only getting as low as ten degrees in winter, it must be somewhat of a shock to the system, to experience temperatures in the minuses.”

He whistled, chuckling. “It is an experience, eh.”

Sean quickly pieced together what he was hearing, not that anyone could miss it, really. It seemed Rin had been over at the place he remembered her telling him about, the wildlife reserve in Kenya. Why, he wondered, had she chosen that desolate location in the middle of nowhere, abandoning her dream of attending LSE once her A Level’s were done with? It seemed out of character, for her to relinquish a goal she had held for so long, no matter how much fondness she had for the place she’d told him about.

Why Africa? It didn’t make sense. Had he made good on his threat to release the video of them having sex to the internet, he’d quite understand her desire to run away, find refuge in a place like that. But he hadn’t. Why had she vanished? These questions and more bubbled upon his tongue, but the threat of Sokoro’s ire as well as his own exhaustion after once again brushing up against death kept him silent, resting his head against the window as he watched the dawn break over the countryside.

Just under two hours later and they were turning into the long driveway that led to Mulford Hall, the vast property exactly as he remembered. How different would life be for him now, he wondered, if he’d ignored his father and deleted that video the last time he was there.

Stepping from the car, he felt a little lightheaded but not so much that it impeded being able to walk unassisted, not that he was likely to receive such, Rin and Sokoro striding ahead to the side door. He could see it in his mind, the eighteen-year-old version of her standing there in her big sweater and socks, sighing. It still needled at him, how he’d killed dead the connection he had with her, all in the name of power and business, both of which he’d ended up losing anyway.

Even if he’d still lost everything, he had a feeling he’d have never lost her in it all, had he done the right thing.

They walked into the kitchen, Rin taking a large, paper bag and sliding it across the counter to him, her eyes not meeting his. “Here, clean clothes. Go take a shower and make yourself comfortable. I have a meeting to get to. Sokoro will be here, keeping an eye on you, so don’t even think about trying to escape.”

He raised an eyebrow, lifting the bag from the island. For a brief moment, it flashed through his mind, her sitting where the bag had previously been, and him between her legs, fucking the living hell out of her. “So, I’ve been kidnapped, then, opposed to being saved?”

Her eyes met his then, without any trace of warmth. “You’re here for a purpose. I’ll be back later.”

The revelation of that purpose was one he’d have to wait upon a little longer, he supposed, Rin exiting and leaving him being stared down by the Kenyan giant of a man, his arms folded.

Sean couldn’t help but wonder if he’d fared better to have been left hanging.

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