Page 117 of Crimson Flames

“Hey,” I say, punching Cillian’s arm.

They smile, but it drops when Boris comes to my side. “Are you alright, Little Fox?”

That’s when everything begins to set in. I try to think of all of the memories with my mother, the last time I spoke with her or told her I loved her.

But it all becomes a blank page as I begin to realize she never really cared about me, not in the same way I care about Kai. I would take a bullet for my son, but when things got hard for me, my mother always ran.

She let me be the shield between her and my father. She watched as I gave everything I could to protect my sister and sat on the sidelines for it all.

I remember the way Boris told me she cried when she thought I was dead. I was surprised, not even realizing she cared that much. I thought when I sent Kia and Lyra to get her to safety that she would try to reach out, to send me a message or something.

But there was nothing.

I still tried to save her, but Ronan won anyway.

“We need to make a move too. He isn’t the only one who’s watching, and I think I know just how to make him hurt.”

“That’s our Nessy,” Damien says with a clap. “Tell us what to do, Little Red Riding Hood, and we will take them down.”

No one has ever called me that before, but I think I like it. Only this isn’t the story where Red Riding Hood gets eaten, this is the part where she takes her own pound of flesh.

“Let’s make them bleed.”

Ronan said nobody smart plays fair. I am well aware that power in this world will only be granted to those of us that are willing to steal it. So, I think it’s time for a heist. A very bloody one.

Chapter 45

Nessa doesn’t know it yet, but while she has been setting up her little plan, Damien and I have been executing one of our own. Thanks to the message Ronan sent about a week ago, the last piece of our puzzle fell into place. Now, it’s just a matter of days before everything Ronan has built should come crumbling down around him.

I must say, this is the most excited I’ve seen Nessa in a while.

She knew the mark she wanted and she went for it. There are very few things in Ronan’s life that he holds dear.

The first is power, and the second is the man we’re filming right now in the basement of Kray.

“Hey there, Sully,” Nessa says to the one man who helps Ronan run his little empire.

I’ve never liked the guy much, but now he just looks pathetic strung up in front of us with his Oxford shoes polished to perfection, Armani pants sitting two inches too high above his ankle, and his bright green pinstripe suit jacket bunched up around his neck while his arms strain above his head.

The sight is only made more entertaining by the look of shock on his face.

“Nessa,” he gasps as he tries to wiggle free. “Oh no, this is just grande. Fan-feckin-tastic, ain’t it? Serves me right, huh? You would be the one. I thought for sure it would be Ronan, but no, of course it’s you.”

Nessa crosses her arms as she takes a seat in front of him and leans back. “I am really surprised he kept you around for this long. What is it exactly that made you so special to him?”

Sullivan rolls his eyes, looking cool as a cucumber dangling there from a few chains with a table of tools to make him bleed at his side. He must have a severe mental disability not to take any of this seriously right now. Either that, or he’s in denial.

“Oh please, we both know that man loves me. But it has nothing to do with the fact that I keep most of his programs running smoothly and everything to do with me being even more OCD than him.”

The man continues to babble on as Nessa sits there. He tells her all about how Ronan can’t function without order and how he has been the only one competent enough to bring him what he needs. They laugh when Sullivan talks about the chipped floorboards in his office and how it’s driving him crazy, but he can’t find a replacement.

It’s all very…odd. They talk like they’ve been friends for years and are just chatting at a slumber party. Not at all like Nessa is about to chop his head off and send it back to her mortal enemy with a note stapled to his forehead.

When Nessa stands, Sullivan finally seems to take in his fate.

“I’m going to ask you one question and that will determine how you die. Are you going to tell me the truth?”

Nessa looks him in the eye and he holds it.

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