Page 25 of Vicious Vines

He reaches out, and instinctively, I recoil. But his hand hovers in the air, a silent plea for understanding. "I never wanted to hurt you," he says, and the tremor in his voice resonates with a truth that fractures my indignation. "I was trapped, Sloane. They had evidence against your brother—evidence that could destroy him. I had to step in, had to play their game to keep you all out of harm's way."

Anguish and ardor battle within me, a war waged with every racing heartbeat. To yield to his words would be to surrender to vulnerability, to risk being shattered anew. Yet, to reject them outright would be to forsake the connection that, despite the lies, still binds us with an unyielding grip.

"Protecting me?" I murmur, my defenses waning as the embers of our bond flicker stubbornly against the encroaching darkness. "Or protecting yourself?"

"Protecting us," he repeats, steadfast, his gaze imploring me to see the sincerity etched into the lines of his face.

The floor beneath me feels like the edge of a cliff as I pace, back and forth, in the dimly lit room that reeks of betrayal. With each step, my boots echo like gunshots, mirroring the chaos in my head. The air is thick with tension, and I can taste the bitterness of deceit on my tongue. My face is set, carved from stone, as I try to make sense of this labyrinth of lies and love.

"Please," Liam's voice cracks through the stillness, so raw and ragged it almost stops me in my tracks. He stands there, a shadow of the man I thought I knew, his eyes holding oceans of regret.

"Forgive me, Sloane." His plea is a whisper, a prayer to a goddess who has been scorned one too many times. He takes a tentative step closer, the distance between us charged with an electric current of emotions unspoken.

I whip my head towards his. “Forgive you?” I scoff, before growling and whipping my gun out, pressing the cold steel against Liam's temple. My hand trembles—not from fear, but from the volcanic rage coursing through my veins. His pleading eyes search mine; a silent beggar to my merciless throne. He's an FBI informant—a traitor—and everything in me screams to pull the trigger. It’s what the code demands. It's justice.

"Please, Sloane," his voice cracks, raw with desperation.

"Shut up!" The words lash out like whips, and I can taste the bitterness they leave behind. "You betrayed me." My finger hovers over the trigger, each heartbeat a drumroll to his impending doom. But something coils tight in my chest, squeezing until I can't breathe. Love, that treacherous fiend, stays my hand.

"I should kill you," I whisper, the gun wavering.

But I can't. I won't.

"Get up," I command instead, holstering the weapon. Liam rises, a mix of relief and confusion painting his beautiful face. I push past the softness in me, the part that aches to forgive him, and grasp his arm, dragging him towards the O'Neil manor with a fury that burns hotter than the depths of hell.

Chapter 20

The descent into the underground cells is steep, echoing with the ghosts of past punishments. I shove Liam into one, the clang of metal bars a satisfying symphony to my anger. He stumbles, regaining his footing as he turns to face me, those oceanic eyes still holding a glimmer of hope.

"Are you going to kill me, Sloane?" he asks, the tremor in his voice betraying his fear.

"Maybe," I say, though the word tastes like ash on my tongue. The fluorescent lights cast shadows across his chiseled jaw, the very angles I've traced with fervent kisses now tainted by deceit.

I pace before the cell, a caged lioness contemplating her next move. Anger churns inside me, a storm cloud ready to burst. He's lied, manipulated... yet the thought of ending him slices through me sharper than any blade.

"Please, Sloane," he breathes out, pressing up to the bars, and I can almost feel the heat of his body. I take a step back, afraid that if I get too close, I'll crumble under the weight of my own heart.

"Please," I echo mockingly, turning away to hide the tears threatening to spill. I leave him there, in the darkness, where my love and wrath wage war within the confines of my fractured soul. My heart hammers against my ribs, threatening to break free. How can I trust him again? How could I allow myself to fall back into those arms that once promised safety but now could be the very ones that would let me plummet into ruin?

I look back, catching the desperation etched into every feature of his handsome face. He's vulnerable now, stripped of all pretense, and it's like looking at a different person—the man behind the mask, exposed and trembling before me.

Rage snakes its way through my limbs again as I’m reminded of why we’re here. Liam’s actions brought us to this point, shattering everything we once had into glittering fragments on the floor.

"Sloane," his voice rasps, a plea wrapped in the huskiness that once coiled around my heart like smoke. "Let me prove it to you."

His eyes, those pools of betrayal, fix on mine, and I'm drowning again, sinking into depths where love and hate intertwine like serpents. Anger courses through my veins, fierce and unyielding, but it's desire, dark and desperate, that whispers treachery.

"Prove it?" My words slither out, venomous and seductive. "How can you prove something that's been shattered?"

"By giving you all of me," he insists, pressing his palms against the cold bars, a caged beast of his own making.

"Prove your loyalty," I spit out, but even as I say it, I don't know what I want from him. Punishment? Submission? Or perhaps a reason to keep him alive, to feel his warmth against my skin once more?

The air between us crackles with tension, a current that threatens to ignite the fury and longing I've bottled up.

"Show me," I demand, my voice a sultry challenge that masks the tempest raging within.

He doesn't hesitate. With deft fingers, he sheds his clothing, revealing the sinewy lines of his body, muscles honed by deception. And yet, I want him, need to feel him as much as I yearn to punish him for his transgression.

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