Chapter 29 The Blood Oath
Alessia didn’t leave her room for hours.
She sat on the floor, staring at Thorne’s message, watching the clock tick down like a countdown to her own execution. Eleven hours. Ten. Nine. Every minute felt heavier than the last.
Somewhere in the penthouse, Liam moved. Footsteps deliberate, controlled, like he was keeping distance even as he roamed his own home. He didn’t come to her. Didn’t knock. The chasm between them felt wider than ever.
She thought about the wire. About sneaking into his study while he slept. About finishing the mission and saving her grandmother. Every rational bone in her body argued for it.
But every time she reached for the nightstand drawer, her hand froze.
Because she’d already chosen.
On that dock—warning him instead of letting him fall into Cormac’s trap—she had made her choice. And there was no going back.
Midnight came. Her phone rang. Not Thorne. Liam.
“Hello?” she whispered.
“Come to the living room.” His voice was rough, tired. Almost pleading. “Please.”
She stood, knees weak, checking her reflection in the mirror. Red eyes. Pale skin. Defeat etched into every feature. She looked like a ghost of herself.
Still, she went.
Liam was by the windows, a glass of whiskey in hand, staring at the city as if it could tell him the answers he needed. He didn’t turn when she entered.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said quietly, “about everything. About what you did today.”
Alessia’s chest constricted. “Liam—”
“You saved my life. Again.” He took a slow drink. “You had no reason to. Could have let Cormac’s men get their evidence. Could have let me be destroyed. Would have solved so many problems for you.”
“I couldn’t do that,” she whispered, voice barely audible.
“Why not?” He finally turned to her. His eyes, dark and searching, pinned her. “Why risk everything to warn me?”
“Because…” She swallowed, words sticking in her throat. “Because… despite everything, despite this insane mess we’re in, I don’t want you dead.”
“Is that all?”
“No.” Her voice broke. “It’s more than that. You know it is.”
Liam set his glass down, moving closer. “I don’t know what you are, Alessia. Don’t know all your secrets. But I know one thing with absolute certainty.”
“What?”
“We’re stronger together than apart.” He stopped in front of her, intense, unflinching. “Cormac is moving against me. Your father’s using you as a pawn. We’re both fighting wars we didn’t choose, carrying burdens that aren’t ours.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying we make a real alliance. Not the Council’s arrangement. Not a marriage of convenience. A partnership.” His eyes burned into hers. “You help me neutralize Cormac. Secure my family’s future. Finish what I started with the cartel money—transition the O’Sullivans to legitimacy.”
Her heart hammered. “And what do I get?”
“I help you destroy your father.”
The words hovered in the air, a promise and a threat entwined.
“You’d do that?” she asked, barely daring to hope. “Help me take down a Don?”
“He killed your mother. Kept you prisoner your whole life. He deserves to burn.” His voice was hard, unflinching. “I have access, resources, connections, evidence-gathering. If you want justice, I can help you get it.”
It sounded perfect. Too perfect. A way to explain all her skills, her training, her surveillance.
I’ve been preparing to take down my father. That’s why I know how to fight.
Almost the truth. Missing only one thing.
“Why risk that?” Alessia asked. “Going after another family’s Don is—”
“Worth it.” His hand found hers. Warm. Firm. Steady. “Because you’re worth it. Because what he did to you, to your mother—that’s murder. And he should pay.”
Guilt clawed at her throat. And beneath it, something fragile and dangerous—hope.
“Partners,” she whispered.
“More than partners.” Liam let go of her hand and went to his desk. “I want this permanent. Unbreakable. Beyond politics and power.”
He opened a drawer, pulling out a small, ornate knife.
“This belonged to my grandfather,” he said. “The old Irish families sealed their most sacred oaths in blood. Brotherhood. Family bonds. Alliances that couldn’t be broken.”
Alessia’s eyes widened. “A blood oath.”
“Yes.” He held the knife to the light. “If we do this, we’re bound. Your enemies are mine. My enemies are yours. We protect each other. Always. No exceptions.”
It was archaic. Dramatic. Insane.
And yet… it felt right. Real. More binding than wedding vows or any Council contract.
“Okay,” she said, voice trembling. “Let’s do it.”
Liam’s expression shifted—surprise, relief, determination.
He held out the knife, handle-first. “You first.”
She took it, weight heavy in her hand, the significance pressing down. She pressed the edge to her left palm, cutting across in one swift motion. Sharp pain, immediate, alive. Blood welled, dark against her pale skin.
She handed the knife back.
Liam didn’t hesitate. Deeper than hers. Steady, controlled, his jaw tight. Blood flowed freely.
Then he held out his hand. Alessia placed hers against it.
The moment their blood mingled, warm and sticky, something shifted. Fundamental. Irrevocable.
Liam’s fingers closed around hers, firm, sure.
“From this moment,” he said, low and solemn, “we are bound. Your war is my war. Your enemies are my enemies. I will protect you with my life. And I will never betray you.”
The words felt sacred. Like a promise older than the city lights behind them.
“From this moment,” Alessia repeated, voice shaking, “your war is my war. Your enemies are my enemies. I will protect you with my life. And I will never betray you.”
Hands clasped. Blood mixing. Two people pledging loyalty beyond contracts or politics.
For a fleeting moment, she felt peace. Solid ground after years of drowning.
Then Liam spoke again.
“No more lies between us.” His blue eyes locked on hers, unwavering. Grip tightening, the blood still warm between them.
“Tell me who you work for.”
Her blood ran cold. Heart stopped. Breath left her lungs.
She tried to pull back. But his grip was iron.
“Liam—”
“No more lies, Alessia. That’s the oath. You and me. Complete honesty.” His voice was gentle but firm. “Who trained you? Who do you report to? Who are you really?”
The question hovered like a blade.
Her mouth opened, closed. Silence.
There was no answer that wouldn’t destroy everything they’d just built.
FBI. The truth was FBI.
And if she said it, this fragile alliance, this blood oath, this partnership—would burn to ash.
Liam studied her face, reading hesitation, fear, every flicker of betrayal.
“Tell me,” he whispered. “Please.”
Alessia stared at their joined hands. Their mingled blood. The oath they’d sworn.
No more lies.
She had sworn it.
In blood.
And now she had to decide: break the oath she had just made, or destroy everything by telling the truth.