Chapter 17 - Planting the Seed
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Time seemed to instantly slow down to a crawl in the grand dining room.
Sloan watched Fallon Caruso read the letter. His eyes darted quickly across the page, absorbing the words of his dead wife. The snake is in your own garden… Dante has been stealing… He will kill me to silence me.
Fallon didn't scream. He didn't jump up and grab a weapon.
Instead, a terrifying, absolute stillness fell over him. The air in the room grew heavy and extremely cold, like a sudden drop in barometric pressure right before a violent hurricane.
“Is something wrong with the numbers, Fallon?” Dante asked casually, taking another sip of his expensive red wine, completely oblivious to the bomb that had just gone off in his friend’s mind.
Fallon slowly folded the yellowed letter and slipped it into the inside breast pocket of his tailored suit jacket. He looked up at Dante. The warmth in his eyes was entirely gone, replaced by a dark, murderous void.
“No, Dante,” Fallon said, his voice terrifyingly soft and even. “The numbers make perfect sense now. In fact, everything is finally clear.”
Dante chuckled, setting down his glass. “Good. We have a lot of money to move this week. We have to be careful. The feds have been poking around the businesses again.”
“I’m not worried about the feds,” Fallon said smoothly, resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward. “I’m worried about thieves. The worst kind of thieves. The ones who smile in your face while they pick your pocket and destroy your home.”
Dante’s smile faltered slightly. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Well, you let me know who they are, and I’ll handle them personally.”
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“Oh, I know exactly who they are,” Fallon said quietly. “And I will handle this one myself.”
Sloan stepped back into the shadows of the doorway. The seed of absolute destruction had been planted. And now, she just had to survive the bloody harvest.
