Chapter 1110
They stopped at the nurse’s station so Skye could sign a release form against medical advice. The nurse looked horrified, but one glance from Alistair silenced her. Skye felt the stimulant flood her system — a jittery, chemical heat that masked the pain in her shoulder with something that felt disturbingly like clarity.
As they walked to the car, her phone buzzed again. A text.
I’m coming.
It was from Ethan.
Skye stopped. “Ethan?”
“He’s bringing Julian,” Alistair said, reading the next message, his face tightening. “What the hell?”
“Julian is in a coma,” Skye said.
“Apparently not anymore.” Alistair turned the screen toward her. “He woke up. Demanded to be driven. Threatened to rip his IVs out if Ethan didn’t take him.”
Skye let out a long breath. “Of course he did. That magnificent, stubborn idiot.”
“He’s in no condition for a fight,” Alistair said. “He’s a liability.”
“He’s a man whose fiancée was just taken by her own brother,” Skye said. “He’s not a liability, Alistair. He’s motivation.”
Two Hours Earlier
Parker Hayes sat in the recovery room at Vance Manor. It wasn’t a cell — it was a guest suite converted into a medical bay. Sunlight streamed through the windows, but to Parker, the room was full of crawling shadows.
He paced. He scratched at his arms until they bled.
The nurse, a kind woman named Sarah, knocked softly. “Mr. Hayes? Time for your medication.”
Parker moved to the door. “Thanks, Sarah. Hey — did you hear about the gala? My sister… is she okay?”
Sarah opened the door, tray in hand. “I haven’t heard much, sweetie. Just try to relax.”
“Relax,” Parker muttered.
A trigger word. A switch flipped somewhere in his brain. The kindness in her eyes suddenly looked like deception. The tray looked like a weapon.
“The Master requires the asset,” a voice whispered in his ear. It wasn’t real, but it was louder than God.
Parker grabbed the heavy brass lamp from the bedside table. He didn’t hesitate. He swung.
Sarah collapsed without a sound.
Parker stepped over her, his movements jerky and puppet-like. He found the security guard in the hallway, distracted by news reports on his phone. Parker knew exactly where to strike — the Administrator had taught him anatomy. A quick, brutal twist.
He moved to the private parlor where Victoria was waiting for news about Julian. She looked up, relief flooding her face.
“Parker! You’re okay!”
He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her toward the exit. “We have to go, Vic. The Master is waiting.”
Present Time
The lighthouse stood on a jagged promontory overlooking the churning black sea. Its beam cut through the fog in a rhythmic, hypnotic sweep.
Inside the lantern room at the top, Victoria was bound to a metal chair. Her lip was split and bleeding. Wind howled through a broken pane of glass.
Parker was pacing, manic energy radiating off him in waves. He held the gun loosely, waving it as he muttered to himself.
“They’re coming. They have to come. Then the noise stops.”
“Parker, please,” Victoria said, her voice trembling. “This isn’t you. Look at me. I’m your sister.”
“My sister is a traitor!” Parker spun on her, his eyes wild. “You left me! You let them take me!”