Chapter 968
“We won’t build one,” Alistair said, moving to the console, his face set. “We’ll burn the house down.”
“What are you doing?” Skye asked, a sudden apprehension rising in her voice.
“Releasing the Black File,” Alistair said, his gaze unwavering. “My father’s confession. The Thorne family’s full involvement in the Syndicate. Everything — including irrefutable proof that Victor Carter trafficked children to the Institute.”
“Alistair, no.” Skye grabbed his arm. “That will destroy your family name. You’ll be a pariah. You’ll lose the company — everything you’ve built.”
“I don’t care about the company,” he said, looking at her steadily. “I care about the truth. And about saving Parker. That’s all that matters now.”
“You’ll have nothing left,” Skye whispered.
“I’ll have you,” Alistair said quietly.
He hit send.
𝘕𝖾𝘸 c𝗵𝗮𝗉t𝘦𝗿𝘴 ev𝘦𝘳y w𝗲𝘦𝘬 𝗈𝗇 𝘨𝗮𝗹ոo𝘃e𝗹𝘴.сo𝗆
Within minutes, the news cycle convulsed. The internet erupted with the force of a breaking dam.
THORNE HEIR EXPOSES SYNDICATE. THE ADMINISTRATOR NAMED AS CAPO. VICTOR CARTER IMPLICATED IN HUMAN TRAFFICKING.
“It’s working,” Liam said, watching the feed with grim satisfaction. “Interpol just issued a Red Notice for The Administrator. He’s a fugitive now. He can’t hide behind diplomatic immunity anymore.”
“He just bought us a hunting license,” Skye said to Alistair, dark humor threading through her voice.
“And I bought you the ammunition,” Liam said, a rare smirk crossing his face. “I just transferred fifty million dollars to every major news outlet for exclusive coverage of our landing. We’re not terrorists anymore. We’re liberators.”
The ship’s horn blasted — a long, mournful sound that cut through the air.
“Target sighted!” the captain shouted from the bridge.
Through driving rain and swirling mist, a massive structure rose from the churning sea. A rusted, towering beast of steel and fire.
The Citadel.
“We’re back,” Skye whispered, staring at the silhouette of the place where they had nearly died. “And this time, we’re not just rescuing a hostage. We’re sinking the island.”
Lights flashed from the rig. Coastal defense batteries swiveled into position, their muzzles pointing toward the ship.
“Get to the boats!” Alistair shouted.
They geared up with swift, practiced efficiency. Kevlar vests were pulled on. Tactical radios checked. Weapons loaded and secured.
Skye tied her hair back and caught her reflection in the dark glass of the bridge. She didn’t see the frightened girl who had died on an operating table anymore. She saw someone else entirely — forged in fire and loss, and still standing.
“For Parker,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“For Parker,” Liam and Alistair echoed, their voices merging into something that sounded less like words and more like a promise.
The ramp lowered and struck the waves with a crash. Rain lashed at their faces, cold and relentless.
The game was over.
.