Chapter 963
“I don’t make deals with children,” Dominic sneered. “Give me the drive.”
“Release Julian first,” Skye countered, her gaze unwavering.
“Give me the drive and I might let him live,” Dominic said, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Or I might kill him just to watch you scream. I haven’t decided yet.”
“You’re a monster,” Skye said.
“I’m a survivor,” Dominic rose to his feet, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the floor. “Do you know what it took to run this city? Will. The ability to cut out the rot — even when it was your own family.”
“Is that why you tried to kill Alistair?” Skye asked, stalling. “Because he was ‘rot’?”
“Because he was soft!” Dominic roared. “He fell in love. With you. Love makes them weak — makes them hesitate, makes them vulnerable.”
“Love makes them strong,” Skye said firmly. “It gives them something to fight for.”
“Sentimental garbage.” Dominic raised his gun. “Time’s up. The drive.”
𝗗i𝘴сo𝘷𝖾𝗿 𝗇𝘦𝘸 s𝘵о𝘳𝘪𝖾s о𝗇 𝗴a𝗹ո𝗈vе𝗅s.𝘤𝗈𝘮
Skye glanced at her watch. Four minutes and thirty seconds.
“Do you want to know what’s actually on this drive, Dominic?” she asked, her voice carrying a quiet edge. “It isn’t just the ledger. It’s proof. Proof that you didn’t build your empire. You stole it. From The Administrator.”
Dominic went very still. “What did you say?”
“The Administrator,” Skye repeated, letting the name hang in the air. “The real Mastermind. You were his puppet. His debt collector. Nothing more.”
“Shut up!” Dominic stepped forward, the gun trembling slightly in his hand. “I was the King!”
“You were a middle manager,” Skye said. “And The Administrator is coming for you. He knows you failed at the estate. He knows you let us escape.”
“Lies!” Dominic screamed, his face contorting with rage.
The skylight above them exploded inward.
Glass rained down as Liam and Alistair dropped into the room on rappelling lines, landing squarely on the table between Skye and Dominic. They came up with guns drawn, movements synchronized and precise.
“Party’s over, Dad,” Alistair said, his voice cold and hard.
Dominic fired. The shot rang out across the room.
Alistair didn’t flinch. He fired back.
Dominic took the bullet in the shoulder. He spun and dropped his gun, a cry of pain tearing from his lips as a crimson stain bloomed across his jacket.
“Secure him!” Liam shouted, already moving.
Skye ran to Julian. She pulled a knife from her boot and cut through his bonds. “Julian! Julian, wake up!”
Julian groaned. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused. “Skye… trap.”
“What?” Skye leaned closer.
“Trap,” Julian whispered. “Not Dominic. The Administrator…”
A low mechanical hum filled the room. The dark wood panels along the walls began to slide open.
Behind them were glass walls, transparent and unyielding. And behind the glass stood a dozen men in black suits, their faces impassive and still.
At the center of them, projected onto a large screen, stood a silhouetted figure — his face swallowed by shadow, unreadable.
.
.
.