Aly Sloan Novels & Stories

"But the toll records don't match her standard personal card. It was a corporate account registered to the Madden foundation." "The foundation account Sloane controls," Declan murmured. "Yes, sir." The door to the inner gallery clicked open. Sloane stood in the threshold, her gray wool coat over her arm, her dark hair pinned low and neat. She looked at Preston, then at the tablet in Declan’s hand. "You're reviewing the gate logs," Sloane said, walking into the room without waiting for an invitation. Declan didn't move. "Your sister has a habit of disappearing when the ledger gets complicated."

"It's why we're here. We need a hacker. Trevor told us Sloane has the best tech people," "What about the mortals?" "We need someone with animal speed. They didn't make it past the third wall. I think they were using a vampire to setup their shit," "You would be correct, Alpha Jaykob," Sloane comes down in a black satin dress that compliments her body perfectly. Her chestnut brown hair is down for the first time since I've met her and it makes her lime green eyes that much prettier. I press my lips together trying so hard not to laugh. She has my brother's undivided attention.

"Sloane, don't start." She grins, completely unbothered, before turning to me again. "Relax, I'm just messing with you. Kind of. Because it’s true, you beat Noah up for what? Doing a drinking game?" “Does Noah share everything with his baby sister?” Alex throws the insult but it bounces back because Sloane doesn't look the least bit offended. “Why? Are you Jealous?” “Anyway,” Alex ignores her question, turning his focus on me, “Sloane’s an interior designer,” he explains, “and since I know nothing about decorating, I called her in to help.”

Chapter 60: Not alone. The next day, Sloan chatted with the manager of Dager Gym on the phone. The woman had a spot for Sloan starting next week. According to the lady, JP, as the health center owner, had insisted she hire Sloan because of his "great qualifications." Sloan had no idea what those were, but he needed a job, so he just went with it. As he talked to the woman, he got the impression she wanted him to become her assistant manager. Sloan would see. For now, whatever the work was, the job was fine with him. He needed something…well, anything really… just to not think about Octnavin.

“We have been trying to find out who they are, but so far, we have only found one of the three names, James Lucas. He is a forensic scientist. I'm not exactly sure how he will help us, but Jones gave us his name.” I nod in agreement. I would rather look into that first before going to the witches. Ashleigh sighs, looking at both of us. “Fine, I’ll head home with Danni. I have to get things ready for uni next week. I don’t want to be too far behind when we have this little guy,” she smiles as she rubs her belly softly.

The hound that he was in kept his eyes on me, his eyes studying my soul before he kneeled, making me, Alvize, and Ezra frown. “Just like these two had their prophecy, you had yours.” Killian said, getting off the hound as it approached me. The Lycan stood a step behind as he watched and for the first time since I had met the Lycan, I couldn’t help but frown when I noticed that he wasn’t being cocky or aggressive. “Her name is Amarita, and she seems to have been born with you.”

"Are we seriously doing this? Look at her dress. It looks like it was expensive once, but now it’s just trash. She looks like trouble wrapped in a blank slate." "She looks like a pity project we can't afford," Maeve hissed, stepping up beside Davino, her lip piercing catching the light as she sneered. Her heavy combat boots thudded as she shifted her weight aggressively. "Welcome to the O'Hara family circus, Jane Doe. Over here we have the youngest born, Pal," she pointed to a ten-year-old boy sitting on the floor who was staring at my bandaged arm with wide, nosy, and entirely hostile eyes. "And that's Sloane, who actually does the restaurant books and knows we're broke." "Nice to meet you,

Lucy came in last… carrying a pitcher of fresh orange juice, eyes bright but tired, like she hadn’t slept much but was determined to show up anyway. She set the pitcher down. Looked around the table. At Ophelia and Chase wrapped together. At Elara stealing a piece of bacon. At Marcus already reaching for the syrup. At the empty chair waiting. And then… quiet footsteps on the stairs. Sloane appeared in the doorway. She wore soft gray leggings and a loose sweater… hair down, no makeup, looking younger than she had in years. She hesitated. Just for a second. Then stepped inside. The room paused.

Hellos, congratulations, the soft press of hands, a few sincere donors who’d known their father and meant what they said: Welcome home. Then she saw them. Damon stood near the far bar, backlit by a tower of cut-glass decanters. The light loved him; it always had. Sloane rested an elegant hand on his forearm, diamonds pooling cold fire at her wrist. Her smile found Mya like it had been stored and sharpened for this exact moment. “Oh,” Sloane said brightly when they drew near, “so the heiress made it after all. You must be exhausted, dear—did you bring a PR team or just sentimentality?”

I was glad I came on time as a girl about my age or younger jumped to the centre of the room. I saw her eyes flash golden, and I realised what she was about to do. “Sopor,” “Incido,” I yelled, countering the spell she wanted to shoot at Sin. I glared at her and turned my gaze to Sin. “And oh, his lovely Luna.” The man I assumed was the Alpha of the pack and the person we were fighting off chuckled. He was a tall man. I had thought the person we were going to meet would be at least 6ft and some inches, but the man I was staring at was a giant.