Chapter 393
Chapter 393:
The paper ball hit Skye’s chest and fell to the floor. Skye didn’t move to pick it up immediately. She waited until Mrs. Chandler took a step back.
“Let’s go,” Mrs. Chandler snapped at her men.
She stormed past Liam, her shoulder checking him hard enough to make him stumble and nearly lose his footing on the debris. The bodyguards filed out after her.
The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.
Liam turned to Skye. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving. He looked at the wreckage of her sanctuary.
“Skye,” he whispered.
He stepped closer, his hands reaching out to check her shoulders, her arms. “Did they touch you? Did they hurt you p>
Skye took a sharp step back. Her back hit the reinforced window. She flinched as if his concern were a physical blow.
“Don’t,” she said. Her voice was brittle, like dry leaves.
“I didn’t know,” Liam pleaded. “I swear, Skye. I flew back the moment I saw your plane leave. I came straight here. Beatrice told me she was handling it, but I didn’t know she meant this p>
Skye looked down at the crumpled check on the floor. She bent, her movements stiff and mechanical, and picked it up.
She smoothed it out. Fifty thousand dollars.
She pulled her phone from her pocket and snapped a high-resolution photo of the check, capturing the signature and the amount.
“Attempted bribery,” she murmured. “Good p>
Then she looked at Liam. With slow, deliberate movements, she ripped the check in half. Then into quarters. She let the pieces flutter to the floor like confetti.
“I don’t want her money,” Skye said. “I want charges pressed p>
“Skye, please,” Liam stepped closer again.
“It was your fiancée’s family,” Skye said. “Your world. Your people p>
“They aren’t my people,” Liam argued. “You are p>
Skye walked to the window. The adrenaline that had held her upright was draining away, leaving a hollow, shaking void in its place. Her knees felt like water.
“Skye?” Liam’s voice sounded far away.
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She closed her eyes. The darkness was better than the mess in the room.
Suddenly, a thunderous crash echoed from the main entrance. The heavy glass doors didn’t just open; they shattered inward as if hit by a battering ram.
Skye was falling, but she didn’t hit the floor. She didn’t hit Liam. She hit a wall of solid muscle.
Arms wrapped around her. Strong. Immovable. They smelled of tobacco, mint, and cold rain. Skye looked up, her vision tunneling.
Alistair Thorne.
He held her against his chest, his face a mask of terrifying calm. His eyes were dark voids that absorbed all the light in the room. Behind him, three of his own security team filled the hallway, weapons not drawn but clearly ready.
“This building is compromised,” Alistair said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against Skye’s ear.
He looked at Liam with pure disdain. “You let this happen p>
Liam flinched.
Alistair shifted Skye effortlessly, scooping her up into a bridal carry.
“We’re leaving,” Alistair said.
He turned and walked out, leaving Liam standing alone in the ruins of the office, surrounded by broken glass and torn checks.
“Skye, talk to me p>