Chapter 949
“I wouldn’t,” Liam said. He didn’t raise his voice. He simply unbuttoned his suit jacket, revealing the shoulder holster beneath. His own security team raised their weapons in kind. The click of safety catches disengaging rippled through the room like a quiet threat.
“You threaten the Vance Elders in their own home?” Marcus looked almost amused. “Kensington, you are a merchant. You don’t have the stomach for war.”
“Try me,” Liam said coldly.
“Stop.” Skye stepped forward, placing herself between the drawn guns and the old men. “There is a way to settle this. According to the Bylaws.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “You know our Bylaws, girl?”
“I read them,” Skye said — a lie. She had skimmed the files Parker had hacked. “If the Head of House is incapacitated, he may appoint a Champion to defend his title.”
𝗦a𝘷е y𝗼u𝗋 𝘧a𝘃𝗈𝗿𝗂𝘁e 𝘯𝗈v𝗲𝗅𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝘨𝗮𝗅𝗇𝘰vеls.𝖼𝘰𝗆
“A Champion?” Marcus laughed. “Julian has no Champion. His brother is recovering from torture. His butler is compromised.”
“I am his Champion,” Skye said.
Silence. Absolute, stunned silence.
Even Liam looked at her as though she had grown a second head. “Skye, no.”
“You?” Marcus looked her up and down with open scorn. “A Sterling? A woman? You are not even blood.”
“The Bylaws say ‘Blood or Bond,’” Skye said, her voice steady. “I am bonded to him.”
“How?” Marcus sneered.
Skye drew a slow breath. She looked at Julian. His eyes were wide, pleading with her to stop. She needed a lie large enough to pause the violence.
“I am his fiancée,” Skye said.
The lie hung in the air, glittering and dangerous.
Liam’s face went rigid. His eyes turned to ice. He stared at her without a word, a muscle feathering in his jaw. He said nothing, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
“We are engaged,” Skye said, lifting her chin. “A political union. To merge the Vance and Sterling interests.”
Marcus looked at Julian. “Is this true, nephew?”
Julian looked at Skye. He saw the desperation in her eyes, the calculation — the Wolf Strategy turned back on him.
“Yes,” Julian rasped. “She is my betrothed.”
Marcus’s smile vanished. “Very well. If she is Bonded, she may stand as Champion. But the Trial is not a debate, Ms. Sterling. It is the Trial of Blood.”
“I accept,” Skye said.
“Skye,” Alistair whispered, catching her arm. “The Trial of Blood isn’t metaphorical. It’s a duel. To first blood. Or death.”
“I know,” Skye said. She looked at the massive bodyguard standing behind Marcus. “I’m ready.”
“You’re insane,” Liam hissed, stepping close. “I can buy them off. I can burn them out. You don’t have to do this.”
“No,” Skye said, her voice low enough for only him to hear. “If we use force, the other families will turn on us. We have to win by their rules. Trust me.”
She slipped off her heels. She unbuttoned her blazer and tossed it onto the sofa, leaving herself in her silk blouse and trousers — looking small against the weight of what was coming.
“Let’s dance,” she said.
The Vance dojo was a cavernous room with polished wood floors and walls lined with antique weapons. It smelled of sweat and iron.
.
.
.