Chapter 1004
The dust from the collapsed mountain did not settle like snow — it coated Skye’s throat like ground glass. She coughed, her lungs spasming in violent protest, trying to expel the taste of ancient earth and pulverized rock. Her entire body felt like a single, throbbing bruise.
Beside her, Alistair was already moving. His hands were covered in grime and blood — not his own — as he pressed two fingers to Julian’s neck.
Julian was pale, his skin almost translucent against the dark soil of the forest floor. His leg was twisted at an unnatural angle from the escape, bleeding sluggishly into the damp earth.
“He’s losing too much blood,” Alistair said, his voice rough and stripped of its usual composure. He tore a strip from his shirt and tied a tourniquet around Julian’s thigh with practiced, desperate speed. “We need a medevac. Now.”
Liam stood a few feet away, staring at the rubble that had been the Ouroboros bunker. He looked hollowed out — a man who had just watched his history implode. He had helped kill his grandfather, or the man who claimed to be. He turned toward them, his face smeared with soot, his eyes wide and unblinking in the gloom.
The sun had not yet fully broken the horizon. The valley lay draped in the heavy grey shadows of pre-dawn.
“Do you hear that?” Liam asked.
Skye strained her ears against the ringing silence of the aftermath. Then she heard it — the rhythmic thwup-thwup-thwup of rotor blades cutting through the dense morning air.
“Chopper,” Alistair said, shielding his eyes against the sudden blinding sweep of a searchlight cutting through the trees. “Friend or foe?”
𝘘𝘶𝗮𝗹i𝘁𝗒 𝘁𝘳𝖺𝗻s𝘭𝖺𝘁i𝗼n𝘴 о𝗻 𝗀𝘢𝘭ոо𝘃𝖾𝗹𝗌.𝗰𝗈𝘮
“It’s Lucian,” Liam said, recognizing the silhouette of the sleek black helicopter descending into the clearing. “He tracked Julian’s beacon.”
The helicopter touched down, kicking up a storm of leaves and debris. The side door slid open and Lucian Graves jumped out — not in his usual immaculate suit but in tactical gear, flanked by four paramedics carrying a stretcher.
“I see I’m late for the fireworks,” Lucian shouted over the roar of the engine, his eyes scanning the devastation with a critical gaze. He signaled to the medics. “Get Mr. Vance. Stabilize him in the air.”
Skye let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. They had made it. Against all odds, they had actually made it.
“Take him,” Skye said, her voice raw. She tried to stand, but her knees buckled. Alistair caught her, his arm a solid bar of iron around her waist. “Go. Get Julian out of here.”
The medics swarmed Julian, lifting him onto the stretcher with practiced efficiency. Lucian stood by the door, watching with an expression Skye couldn’t quite read. Relief? Calculation?
Then a sound cracked through the air. Sharp. Final.
It wasn’t the mountain settling. It was a gunshot.
Skye felt the impact before she registered the second report — like being struck in the shoulder by a sledgehammer. The force spun her around, tearing her from Alistair’s grip. She hit the ground hard, the air driven from her lungs on impact.
.