Chapter 888
Alistair Thorne rounded the corner at a run, his dark coat billowing behind him. He had been parking the car, likely still carrying the quiet ease of the morning drive. He took one look at Skye’s face and stopped cold, his hand moving instantly to the concealed holster at his waist.
“What happened?” His voice was low, a growl that vibrated in the air between them.
“She’s gone,” Skye said, her voice trembling. “And the records are spoofed.”
Alistair moved past her and strode into the room, scanning it with the efficiency of a predator — the reinforced window, the ventilation grate. He stopped at the teddy bear. He didn’t touch it. He just stared at the twisted head.
“Lock down the facility,” Alistair said into his earpiece. “Now. No one leaves.”
R𝘦аd t𝗁𝘦 𝗹𝗮𝘁𝖾ѕt 𝘁𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗱s o𝘯 𝗀𝖺𝘭ոо𝗏𝘦𝘭𝘀.𝘤o𝗆
“It’s no use,” Skye said, moving to the window overlooking the manicured, fenced-in grounds. “She didn’t just walk out, Alistair. She was extracted. Or she planned this. She played the broken victim perfectly.”
Alistair came up behind her, his hands settling on her shoulders — warm, heavy, grounding. “She has resources we didn’t account for. But she’s damaged. She needs medication. She won’t get far without support.”
“You don’t understand,” Skye turned and buried her face in his chest. The wool of his coat scratched her cheek, a comforting friction. “At dinner last night, I thought it was over. I actually believed we had won. But seeing that bear —” She exhaled slowly. “It feels like we just woke up a sleeping dragon. The peace was a lie, Alistair. While we were toasting, she was planning.”
“Liam is safe,” Alistair said firmly, though Skye could feel the tension coiled in his muscles. “He’s at the tower. He has his own security.”
“Does he?” Skye pulled back, looking into his storm-grey eyes. “Celeste said the Mastermind’s code rewrites people. What if she took the secrets with her? What if she knows how to reactivate the network?”
Across the city, the Kensington Global tower pierced the skyline — a monolith of glass and steel that reflected the morning sun with blinding indifference.
Parker Hayes paced the lobby, his designer sneakers squeaking on the polished marble. He checked his watch for the tenth time in a minute.
“Come on, Liam,” he muttered, thumbing the contact on his phone and pressing call.
It rang. And rang. And rang.
“You’ve reached Liam Kensington. Leave a message.”
Parker groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “Liam, it’s me. Again. Where the hell are you? The board is panicking. The stock is taking a nosedive because of the rumors about the old Mastermind tech being found in our servers. I can’t hold them off forever. Call me back.”
He hung up, frustration warring with a deep, gnawing anxiety. Ever since the surgery, despite the brief celebration, Liam had been elusive. He had missed two scheduled check-ins already that morning — as though the moment the anesthetic wore off, a new wall had gone up.
His phone buzzed. Parker grabbed it, expecting Liam.
It was a text from an unknown number.
Want to find him? He’s in trouble. West End Shipyard. Container 4B. Come alone, or he dies.