Chapter 1109
“Because in his twisted mind, I’m the obstacle,” Skye said. “He blames me for not saving him sooner. The programming feeds on resentment.”
“I’m going to neutralize him,” Alistair said. It wasn’t a threat. It was a statement of tactical necessity.
“He’s Parker, Alistair. He helped us.”
“That wasn’t Parker who killed my guard and took Victoria. That was a weapon.”
Skye’s phone buzzed on the bedside table.
Alistair picked it up. Unknown number. He hit speaker and held it out.
“Skye.” Parker’s voice was jagged, high-pitched, the words tumbling over one another as though he couldn’t breathe. “Are you alive? Please tell me you’re alive. The shadows said you were dead.”
“I’m here, Parker,” Skye said, keeping her voice steady. “I’m alive. You don’t have to do this. Let Victoria go.”
“I can’t!” Parker sobbed. “The noise in my head — it won’t stop until I give them the Eye! They promised silence! Just bring the Eye!”
A muffled sound, then Victoria’s voice, raw and furious. “Parker, fight it! Don’t listen to them!”
A sharp slap. Then silence.
Alistair’s hand closed into a fist so tight his knuckles turned white.
“You touch her again,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, “and I will take you apart.”
“Ah, the Reaper speaks,” Parker laughed — a wet, hysterical sound. “Bring the Ruby Drive, Thorne. And bring Skye. The lighthouse. One hour. If I see a single cop or one of your black vans, Victoria learns to fly.”
The line went dead.
Alistair stared at the phone. “I’m going.”
“We’re going,” Skye corrected, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
“Skye, you can barely stand.”
“There’s a med-kit in that cabinet,” Skye said, nodding toward it. “Inject me with a stimulant — adrenaline, cortisol, I don’t care. Just get me on my feet.”
“That’s dangerous,” Alistair warned. “It could stop your heart.”
“My heart stops if Victoria dies,” Skye countered. “Do it. Or I’ll do it myself and probably miss the vein.”
Alistair looked at her — at the stubbornness set hard in her jaw, the same look she had given him the night they met in the rain.
“Fine,” he said. “But you stay in the car until I say otherwise.”
“Deal.”
Before they left, Skye took the Ruby Drive from his pocket. “I’ll carry it.”
“Why?”
“Because I have an idea,” Skye said, closing her fingers around the cold device. “A bluff.”
“Skye, this isn’t a poker game.”
“Everything is a poker game, Alistair. You just have to know when to fold.”
Alistair was quiet for two seconds. When he spoke, his words sent a chill down her spine. “My father used to say that too. He said the most dangerous person at a poker table isn’t the one with the best hand. It’s the one who knows when to flip the table.”
Skye looked at him. “You think he’s still alive?”
Alistair didn’t answer. He pushed the magazine into his pistol and headed for the door.