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Chapter 922
They burst onto the roof. The wind was howling. A sleek black helicopter sat on the landing pad, blades already spinning.
“Felix, Parker — get in!” Skye shouted.
They scrambled into the back.
“Lucian, you fly!” Alistair shoved him toward the cockpit.
“What about you?” Lucian asked.
“We hold the door,” Liam said, dropping behind a vent and leveling his pistol.
The rooftop door exploded open. Silas stood in the frame, propped up by two men, blood soaking through his pant leg. His eyes had the wild, unhinged look of a man with nothing left to lose.
“You’re not leaving!” he screamed. He raised a rocket launcher.
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“He’s got an RPG!” Alistair yelled.
“He won’t fire,” Skye said, rising to her feet. “He wants the Key. And he thinks I have it.”
She reached into her pocket and drew out a small black velvet pouch, holding it high above her head. Inside was a heavy crystalline component she had taken from the safe house — a decoy mechanism that looked ancient and vital.
“You want this?” she shouted over the roar of the wind. “Come and get it!”
Silas’s eyes locked onto the pouch. The launcher dipped slightly. “Don’t shoot her!”
That hesitation was all they needed.
Liam took the shot — not at Silas, but at the fuel tank of the generator sitting near the roof’s edge behind Silas’s men. The bullet sparked against the metal.
BOOM.
The explosion didn’t reach them directly, but the shockwave was immense. It knocked Silas and his men clean off their feet. The RPG flew from Silas’s hands, skittering across the rooftop and disappearing over the edge. Silas himself lunged for the railing, legs dangling over the abyss.
“Go!” Liam grabbed Skye’s hand and pulled her toward the helicopter.
They dove in just as the skids lifted off the pad.
As they climbed into the night sky and the burning manor shrank below them, Skye felt a hand close around hers. Liam. On her other side, Alistair drew his arm around her shoulders.
They were battered, bloody, and hollowed out by exhaustion. But they were alive.
“Where to?” Lucian called from the pilot’s seat.
“Home,” Skye said, letting her head fall back. “Let’s go home.”
But as she looked out at the horizon, she saw the first pale light of dawn breaking over the water. And in that light, the truth settled over her quietly and without mercy.
Silas was just a soldier. The Mastermind — the true Architect — was still out there. And now he knew their names.
Skye closed her eyes.
Let him come, she thought. We’re ready.
