Chapter 432
Chapter 432:
The lie tasted like ash, but it worked.
Lucian scooped her up in his arms, lifting her effortlessly. He held her high against his chest, her blood staining his pristine suit. He didn’t care.
He looked over her head at Marcus.
“Find them,” Lucian snarled. “Find whoever did this. And bring them to the penthouse. Alive p>
He carried her to the elevator. Skye pressed her face into the curve of his neck, breathing in the scent of expensive cologne and gunpowder. She felt the rapid, thudding beat of his heart.
He was terrified. Not for her—of losing her.
The elevator doors slid shut, sealing them in a box of gold and mirrors. Lucian didn’t put her down. He held her tighter, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered in his cheek.
“You’re safe,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair that felt more like a brand. “I have you. No one takes what is mine p>
Skye let out a shuddering breath, hiding her face so he wouldn’t see the cold calculation in her eyes.
The cage was locked again.
But this time, she had the key—and she was holding the lock pick in her bloody hand.
The hotel doctor was a nervous man with shaking hands, clearly not accustomed to treating patients while a man with a gun paced the room like a caged tiger. He finished bandaging Skye’s arm, taping the gauze down with excessive care.
“It’s a superficial laceration,” the doctor said, his voice wavering. “Stitches aren’t necessary, but keep it clean. She… she needs rest. Her adrenaline is crashing p>
Lucian stopped pacing. He stared at the doctor until the man packed his bag and practically ran out of the suite.
Skye lay on the massive bed, propped up against a mountain of pillows. She had refused to change out of the torn dress, claiming she was too cold to move. It was a tactical choice; the visual reminder of her “trauma” kept Lucian’s rage focused outward.
Marcus entered the room holding a tablet. He looked hesitant, glancing between Skye and his boss.
“Sir,” Marcus said. “We found the van abandoned three blocks east. No plates. No sign of the driver or the woman Ms. Sterling described. But we found traces of chloroform p>
Lucian snatched the tablet. He watched the footage, his knuckles turning white. Then he smashed the tablet against the wall. The screen shattered, glass raining down onto the plush carpet.
Uոm𝗼𝗱𝗶f𝗶𝖾𝘥 c𝗁𝘢𝗽𝗍𝖾𝗿𝘴 𝘰ո 𝗯𝘦.𝗰𝗈𝘮
“Raids don’t just happen,” Lucian spat.
He turned to Skye, walked to the side of the bed, and sat down, his weight dipping the mattress. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. His touch was gentle, but his eyes burned.
“Did they say anything? Anything at all p>
Skye made a show of trying to remember, furrowing her brow and wincing as if the effort caused physical pain.
“The driver…” she whispered. “He was on the phone. He said… ‘Tell the Matriarch we have the package p>
Lucian went still. The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
“The Matriarch,” he repeated, the words grinding out of him.
Skye nodded, tears swelling again. “And… he said I was a liability to the merger. That I was distracting you p>
It was a perfectly crafted lie. It played directly into Lucian’s deepest insecurity—his power struggle with his grandmother, Beatrice Kensington, and her obsession with family alliances. It confirmed what he already feared: that his family viewed Skye not as a person, but as an obstacle to his arranged marriage with the political heiress.
Lucian stood slowly. A dark, twisted smile touched his lips. It was the smile of a man who had just been given permission to start a war.
“Beatrice,” he said softly. “She thinks she can prune my garden p>