Chapter 879
Celeste lowered her hand. A grotesque smile twisted the ruins of her face. “No. I have a better idea.”
She pulled out a phone and dialed. “Video call,” she said, turning the screen toward Skye.
Alistair’s face appeared. He was in a moving car, his expression frantic.
“Skye!”
“Say hello to your fiancé, Skye,” Celeste taunted.
“I’m going to kill you, Celeste,” Alistair said. His voice was terrifyingly calm. “I am going to peel the rest of your face off.”
іn𝘀𝗍a𝘯𝘁 𝗮𝖼𝖼𝖾𝘀ѕ 𝗈ո 𝘨𝘢𝘭𝗇o𝘃еl𝘀.со𝗺
“Big words,” Celeste laughed. “Here is the deal. You bring the real Diamond, the Sapphire, and the Ruby to the West End Amusement Park. Midnight. Or I send Skye back to you in pieces — starting with her fingers.”
She ended the call.
“He won’t bring them,” Skye said. “He knows it’s a trap.”
“He loves you,” Celeste sneered. “Love makes men stupid. Look at Caleb.” She gestured toward him, where he stood watching her with that sickening adoration. “He jumped into a collapsing tower for you,” Celeste continued. “Alistair will walk into fire for you.”
“And that,” Skye said, “is why you will lose. You think love is a weakness. It’s leverage.”
A low, rhythmic sound began to fill the room. Tick… tick… tick… Mechanical. Echoing from somewhere behind the metal doorframe.
“What is that?” Caleb asked, looking up.
“A timer,” the Patriarch said calmly, rising from his crate. “The Mastermind doesn’t like loose ends. If we don’t extract the information before that sound stops, this cellar becomes a tomb.”
“You rigged the place to blow?” Celeste screamed. “With us inside?”
“Motivation,” the Patriarch smiled thinly.
The wall behind him exploded inward.
Debris flew in every direction. Smoke flooded the room. Through the ragged hole in the stone, a silhouette stepped forward — holding an assault rifle, moving with the precision of a machine.
Alistair Thorne.
“I didn’t bring the gems,” Alistair shouted over the ringing in Skye’s ears. “I brought the cavalry.”
Behind him, Lucian and Felix poured into the room with weapons raised.
“Drop it!” Lucian yelled at Caleb.
Caleb grabbed Skye and pressed the knife to her throat. “Back off!”
The standoff crystallized. Dust swirled in the beams of the tactical lights. No one breathed.
“Caleb,” Celeste whimpered from behind a wine rack. “Save me!”
Caleb looked at Celeste. Then at Skye. Then at the gun leveled at his head.
“Let her go,” Alistair said. “And you might live to see a cell.”
“Your word means nothing to a Hayes,” Caleb spat.
He tightened his grip. A drop of blood welled at Skye’s throat.
Alistair’s finger tightened on the trigger.
“Lucian!” Skye screamed. “Celeste!”
Lucian shifted his aim in one fluid motion, pointing his gun directly at Celeste’s head. “Let Skye go,” he said to Caleb, his voice utterly flat. “Or Celeste dies. Right now.”
Caleb’s eyes went wide. Panic flooded in behind the rage.
“Don’t!” Caleb shouted.
“Three,” Lucian said. “Two —”
“Okay!” Caleb shoved Skye away and threw both hands up. “Don’t shoot her!”