Chapter 921
He turned to Liam, his eyes narrowing with sudden suspicion. “Why bring them to me, Kensington? You defended them at the Onyx Lounge. Why the sudden change of heart?”
“Because protecting them was bad for business.” Liam limped toward the drinks cart, leaning heavily on his cane, grimacing with each step. “The stock dipped. I realized betting on the Thorne horse was a losing strategy. I want to be on the winning side, Silas. And I brought you the one thing you actually want.”
“Oh?” Silas raised an eyebrow.
“The location of the gems.” Liam poured himself a bourbon without missing a beat. “Alistair told me where they are in exchange for a quick death. I figured that information was worth more than a few percentage points of stock.”
Silas watched him for a long moment, weighing the greed against the treachery.
Greed won.
“Lucian,” Silas said, turning to his cousin. “Tell me where the Key is, or I let the girl watch while I skin your hacker friend.”
𝗕𝖾 𝘁𝗵e 𝘧𝗂𝘳𝗌𝗍 tо 𝘳𝖾𝖺𝗱 𝗈𝘯 𝗴𝖺𝘭𝗇𝘰𝘷𝖾𝗹𝘴.𝘤о𝗺
Lucian spat blood onto Silas’s shoes. “Go to hell.”
Silas sighed and lifted a knife from the table. “Very well.” He grabbed Felix by the hair.
“Now!” Liam shouted.
He didn’t drink the bourbon. He threw the glass into the fireplace.
The alcohol hit the flames. Whoosh. A fireball erupted, throwing a wall of heat and blinding light across the room.
In that single second, everything shifted.
Skye grabbed Silas’s ankle and twisted hard. He went down.
Alistair — who had already worked free of the deliberately loosened zip ties — drew two guns from his waistband and opened fire on the guards.
Liam gritted his teeth, gripped the edge of the heavy oak table, and flipped it. The pain shot through his bad leg like a hot blade, but the adrenaline carried him through. The table became a barricade between the guards and Felix and Parker.
“Get them out!” Skye yelled, lunging for Silas’s knife.
Silas drove his foot into her ribs. She rolled, breathless, but held on to the knife.
He lunged for her, hands reaching for her throat.
Skye didn’t panic. She remembered the rain. She remembered the mud. She remembered every time a man had tried to put her down and failed.
She drove the knife into his thigh.
Silas screamed and fell back.
Across the room, Lucian threw his weight backward in the chair, smashing the legs into the guard standing behind him.
It was chaos.
It was beautiful.
“The chandelier!” Liam shouted, pointing upward.
It was massive — iron and ancient — hanging directly over the wave of reinforcements pouring through the doors.
Alistair aimed.
Bang.
The chain snapped. The chandelier crashed down in an explosion of twisted metal and crystal, crushing three mercenaries and sealing the main entrance.
“To the roof!” Lucian yelled, his bonds freshly cut by Alistair. “There’s a chopper!”
They sprinted up the spiraling staircase. Liam fell behind, his injured leg dragging, sweat pouring down his face, but he didn’t stop. Behind them, Silas limped in pursuit, shouting orders into a radio, his men in disarray.