Page 7 of Twisted Secrets (The O’Malleys #3)

S loan O’Malley held her phone, staring at the caller ID while it rang.

There was no name next to the number, but there didn’t have to be.

She knew who it was. Carrigan . Her thumb hovered over the end call button, but she couldn’t do that any more than she could answer it.

Some days she wished she could see things as black and white as her father did.

To him, Carrigan had betrayed the family by dodging her forced marriage to Dmitri Romanov and falling in love with James Halloran instead.

She did the most unforgivable thing of all—daring to choose a man over her family.

To Seamus O’Malley, Carrigan was dead and gone the second she walked out the door.

He’d done what passed for mourning for a few days, and then to all appearances, it was business as usual.

Though he hadn’t mentioned marriage where Sloan was concerned.

Six months of waiting for the sword to fall—would she have to take Carrigan’s place to secure an alliance with the Romanovs?

—and Sloan was just plain exhausted. But her father hadn’t even breathed the word marriage , to Dmitri or otherwise, and she suspected she had Carrigan to thank for the reprieve.

Sloan set her phone aside, where it finally stopped ringing, and sent her sister to voice mail.

They hadn’t talked since she’d walked out of the house, leaving the rest of them to fend for themselves while she pursued her happiness.

Sloan was a terrible person for judging her for that, but she couldn’t seem to stop.

Maybe if Carrigan’s happiness had been tied up in anyone other than a Halloran it would have been easier to stomach. Maybe .

She still didn’t understand. There were millions of men out there in the world, none of which was responsible—directly or otherwise—for the death of Devlin. Why couldn’t her sister have fallen in love with one of them? That, at least, would be understandable.

Sloan left her phone on her dresser and slipped on her shoes.

She had to get out of this house, which had started to feel a whole lot like a tomb.

Her siblings were dropping off, one by one.

Even those who hadn’t left felt like they had a foot out the door.

They’re all going to leave me. Maybe not today.

Maybe not tomorrow. But it will happen .

Cillian didn’t chafe at the bit of familial responsibility, but he was half the man he used to be. Their father saw it as his growing up, but Sloan knew better. Part of the thing inside him that had been so vital and full of life was withered and dead. How long before the rest of him followed suit?

Keira…She wrapped her arms around herself as she hurried downstairs.

She didn’t know Keira anymore. The girl who’d been all sunshine and roses was so mething else altogether.

The last time Sloan tried to talk to her, Keira shoved her.

She was a ticking bomb, and it was only a matter of time before she exploded.

And Aiden…He might say and do all the right things, but Sloan could see how much it killed him to see his siblings hurt. It wasn’t enough to push him to make different decisions, but the hurt was there all the same.

She was losing them.

The knowledge weighted her steps and made her head fuzzy. Everywhere she looked was a reminder that things were changing, faster and faster, until it was impossible for her to keep up. She slipped out the back door and inhaled deeply. The cool spring night eased her tension, but only a little.

A figure melted out of the shadows, and she tensed for a minute before she recognized her father’s man, Liam.

“I’m going to the church.” She’d meant for the words to come out as a statement, but in reality they were closer to a question.

She hated herself a little bit more for being so unforgivably timid.

Liam nodded. “I’ll get the car.”

“No.” The word came out sharper than she intended, and she had to clamp her mouth shut to stem an apology. “I want to walk.”

He hesitated, but finally nodded. “Okay.”

It wasn’t terribly far from the town house to Our Lady of Victories, but she couldn’t remember ever walking it before.

It was still early enough in the evening that there was plenty of foot traffic, people going on about their lives, each with their own stories and trials and tribulations.

It made her feel small and unimportant, which was strangely comforting.

She was just one more person in a crowd, going about her business and focused on her own problems. I’m not that different from any one of these people .

It was a lie. No matter their stories, she doubted these strangers had to deal with things like arranged marriages, or being part of a criminal family enterprise, or a father who had never quite made it out of the Middle Ages.

The feeling of oneness passed, making her feel even emptier than she had before.

And significantly more overheated. The worst of the afternoon heat might be past, but that didn’t stop her shirt from sticking to her back as she crossed the street.

She tried to stop from wishing for the cool air-conditioning of their town car and failed miserably.

The O’Malleys might preach family before all, but it was to family that they were the cruelest. She wished she could set herself apart from that truth, but that would be a lie.

Carrigan had been trying to reach her for months, and Sloan had ignored every single call, secure in her hurt and betrayal.

Because she should have chosen us . Not a Halloran.

There it was—the truth, petty and ugly. Once upon a time, Sloan had prided herself on her sensitivity and her willingness to listen and be the sole person who gave her various family members a shoulder to lean on.

She wasn’t sure when that had changed—maybe with Devlin’s death, maybe even before that—but she was just as much part of the problem now as her father was.

The realization made her stomach lurch.

Needing to escape her own head, she focused back on the people around her.

For all that Boston was famed for being a walking city, her family made a point of taking a car everywhere they needed to go.

She’d never considered how elitist that act was, but as she stretched out her strides and walked down the sidewalk, she was faced with a startling truth—she’d missed out on a lot by taking those car rides.

Maybe I’m not as much of an odd duck within the family as I thought.

Maybe I fit in all too well . If that wasn’t depressing, she didn’t know what was.

Our Lady of Victories sat nestled on Isabella, just like it had for over a hundred years.

There were countless buildings like that around the city—places that could trace their roots back to the 1700s.

There were people like that, too, their family lines something they bragged about as if it actually meant something.

It was the one area where the O’Malleys failed miserably.

They hadn’t come over on the Mayflower or been part of the first settlers who’d carved this city out of the so-called savage land around it.

As a result, the O’Malleys would always be “new money.” And that wasn’t even taking into account their criminal connections.

No, if her mother had once dreamed of being the belle of upper society, those dreams had turned to dust over the years.

She’d adapted well enough. What was that old saying?

I’d rather rule in hell than serve in heaven . A life view her mother clung to.

Sloan strode up the steps and through the massive front door. At this time of night, the church was almost deserted. There was an older woman in the first row, but that was it. Sloan gave her a wide berth. She didn’t want to talk to anyone tonight. She just wanted some kind of peace.

Ironic that she was looking for it here, of all places.

Sloan had never felt a higher calling. She sank onto the pew three rows back and looked at the massive stained-glass window behind the altar.

It was dark now, but with the morning light streaming through, it was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.

She’d spent countless hours over the years tracing the patterns with her gaze while Father Joe gave his sermons.

There was something comforting in always knowing what to expect, what the next motion would be.

Mass was one of the few times in her life where she didn’t feel like she was spinning wildly out of control.

Since Father Joe often preached about giving up control to God and having faith in His processes, she was failing on multiple levels with her lack of trust. She sighed. What am I going to do?

“Sloan?”

She tensed for a long moment before she recognized the man who strode from the back of the church.

Teague . “What are you doing here?” Ever since her brother had married Callie Sheridan, he spent all his time with her.

Which is normal. It would be weird if he kept hanging around the house with a wife at home and a neighboring territory to run .

But logic had no place in her head apparently, because every day he didn’t show up at the O’Malley town house felt like another betrayal to her.

“Same thing you are, I’d bet.” He sat next to her. “Sometimes it’s nice to come here and just be. Mass is fine, but it’s not quite the same thing.”

“I suppose.” She knew she sounded sharp, but couldn’t help it. It was too great a coincidence that he was here now, at the same time she was, and she’d stopped believing in coincidences a long time ago.

He smiled. “And Liam called me.”

She turned around to glare at the man, but he was nowhere to be seen. Not surprising. There were more shadows than light in the sanctuary right now. He could be anywhere. She shivered. “Why?”

“Because I asked him to.”