Page 23 of Vicious Vines

The heat of the roaring fire in my office can’t block out the winter wind howling outside, looking for any crack it can seep through. It’s an icy reflection of the dread churning in my gut. The FBI's relentless pursuit has backed us all into corners, making us more desperate, more dangerous. It's a twisted game of chess with our lives as the pawns.

"Too close for comfort," I whisper, my thoughts a jumbled mess of strategy and fear. Every decision feels like groping through fog, each step forward shrouded in uncertainty. And Liam... his growing distance is like a splinter under my skin—irritating, persistent, and inexplicably painful.

"Boss," a gruff voice calls from behind me, pulling me back to the harsh reality of my empire crumbling at the edges.

"Speak," I command without turning, fixated on the chaos inside.

"We picked up Rory. Got evidence that he snitched to the feds.”

My blood runs cold at the accusation, a venomous thread weaving through my veins. Without a word, I pivot on my heel and stride toward the interrogation room. My heart pounds a fierce rhythm, each beat a gavel sentencing Rory to damnation.

There he is, Rory O'Neil—a distant cousin, a trusted confidant, now bound to a chair under the harsh glare of a single bulb. His eyes are wide, deer in headlights, but it's the sheen of sweat on his brow that seals his fate.

"Rory." My voice is steel wrapped in velvet, deceptively calm.

"Sl-Sloane, I swear—" He begins, but I cut him short with a sharp gesture.

"Save your breath. You've been singing to the feds. Did you think we wouldn't find out?" I lean in, allowing my perfume to envelop him, a reminder of the intimacy of our family ties and the betrayal that has torn them apart.

"Please, I didn't—I wouldn't—" He stammers, but his words fade against the hard set of my lips.

"Your weakness disgusts me," I say with a sneer. My hand moves swiftly, the blade hidden in my sleeve glinting briefly before it finds its home in the soft flesh of his thigh.

His scream pierces the silence of the room, a symphony of pain and terror that resonates deep within my chest. I relish the sound for a moment, letting it wash over me—the price of disloyalty.

"Let this be a lesson," I announce, my voice echoing off the walls as I stand to my full height, towering over his crumpled form. "No one betrays the O'Neil family. No one."

I leave him there, writhing and whimpering, a stark reminder to all who might consider crossing me. As I exit, the spicy tang of blood lingers in the air, mingling with the adrenaline flooding my system. It's a scent I've grown accustomed to—a scent that speaks of power, control, and survival.

In the quiet aftermath, my mind drifts unwillingly to Liam, to the warmth of his touch and the intensity of his gaze. How much longer can I hold onto this fragile web of lies and loyalty? How much longer until everything I've built comes crashing down around me, taking my heart with it? The whisper in the back of my mind that I could have avoided all of this if I only took Liam up on his offer of alliance grows every day, with more evidence piled up that we may not make it out of this unscathed.

But I haven’t heard from Liam, not since I got news of the FBI sniffing around. He's slipping away from me, retreating into a realm of secrets I'm not privy to, and it burns hotter than the fiercest jealousy.

Each passing day stretches the distance between us, a gulf widening with unspoken truths and lies woven tight. I can feel the weight of his internal struggle, the way it clings to him like a second skin whenever we share the same air. It's there in the furrow of his brow, the tight set of his jaw, the way he looks through me as if I'm made of smoke.

He's avoiding me and I know it's not just the FBI closing in that's driving a wedge between us. There's something else, something darker, that gnaws at the edges of my consciousness, threatening to spill forth and shatter the fragile illusion of control I maintain.

Chapter 18

The shadows cling to the corners of my office, reluctant confidants to the storm brewing within me. I sit alone, the only illumination a flickering candle that casts an eerie dance across the mahogany desk—a stark contrast to the chaos of my thoughts. Betrayals, both fresh and festering, gnaw at my peace, leaving raw, gaping wounds in their wake.

Liam's face flashes in my mind, his usually warm eyes now a wellspring of doubt. The memories that once were pillars of trust now seem like fragile facades, ready to crumble under the weight of my skepticism.

I have been sifting through every interaction I’ve had since my father died, trying to figure out who is selling O’Neil secrets to the FBI. We snuffed out the leaks through Aldo and Rory, but the feds are still one step ahead of us, knowing our moves and countermoves that precious few know.

Like a labyrinth maze, I wandered aimlessly until I finally found the thread, but I didn’t like where it led me.

Liam.

Liam, who has been pushing and pushing for me to join with him, with the Calders. Liam, who knew about Aldo’s duplicity before I did. Liam, who has been there for everything.

I sift through each whispered word, every shared secret, seeking the moment when the truth might have slipped into the shadows. Did his touch always carry the chill of deceit? Was there a falter in his voice, a hesitation in his kiss? The questions swarm like vultures, picking at what remains of my resolve.

"Trust," I murmur to the empty room, tasting the bitterness of the word. To trust is to gamble with the heart, and mine has borne enough loss. Liam, the one who promised to stand by me through the tempest, could be its very eye. My chest tightens; it's as if every breath I draw is laced with the poison of uncertainty.

A sigh escapes my lips, a silent plea for clarity amidst this emotional maelstrom. But even as I yearn for peace, I know that the price of ignorance is far too high. No, I cannot afford the luxury of blind faith. Not when everything I've built teeters on the edge of ruin.

My fingers trace the edge of the candle's flame, flirting with the heat. It's a reminder that passion, however scorching, can be extinguished in a breath – and trust, once burnt, turns only to ash.

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