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Chapter 201
Chapter 201:
Skye’s eyes fluttered open. The ether was wearing off, leaving her groggy and nauseous. She saw a face above her.
Liam.
“No,” she mumbled, trying to push him away. Her arms felt like lead. “Stop p>
“It’s okay,” Liam murmured, kissing her shoulder. “I’m here. We’re together p>
He moved his hand down her waist. He wasn’t aggressive, just heavy—dead weight and affection she didn’t want.
Skye panicked. The adrenaline cut through the drug haze.
“Get off me!” she screamed, finding her voice.
She grabbed the heavy glass lamp from the bedside table and swung it with all her remaining strength.
Smash.
The lamp connected with Liam’s temple. The bulb shattered. Blood sprayed onto the white sheets.
Liam shouted in pain, rolling off her. He clutched his head, staring at the blood on his hands.
“You hit me,” he said, his eyes darkening. The alcohol and the blow to the head turned his confusion into clumsy, wounded anger. “I’m trying to love you, and you hit me p>
He grabbed her ankle as she tried to crawl away. He dragged her back down the bed.
“You’re my wife!” he yelled. “You belong to me p>
“Help!” Skye screamed. “Alistair p>
Liam pinned her wrists to the mattress using his body weight, avoiding his broken hand. He looked down at her, tears mixing with the blood on his face.
“Why won’t you love me p>
Click. Beep.
T𝘩𝗶𝗌 𝖼𝘰n𝗍еnt 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗎𝘁h𝖾𝗻tі𝖼 𝖿𝘳o𝗆 𝖻𝗲𝘭ո𝘰ve𝗹𝘴.cоm
The door didn’t get kicked in. The electronic lock beeped green, authorized by a master key.
Alistair Thorne stood in the doorway. He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket. His sleeves were rolled up. He looked like death incarnate. A silenced pistol hung in one hand.
He saw Liam on top of Skye.
Alistair didn’t speak.
He crossed the room in two strides, holstered the gun, and grabbed Liam by the back of his shirt and the belt of his pants. He lifted him off the bed like he weighed nothing and threw him.
Liam flew across the room, smashing into the dresser. The mirrors shattered, raining glass down on him.
Alistair stood over him. He pulled back his fist and drove it into Liam’s face.
Crunch.
Liam’s nose broke. He slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Alistair turned to the bed. His face softened instantly. He took off his dress shirt—he was wearing a white undershirt beneath—and wrapped it around Skye’s shivering, torn body.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, lifting her into his arms. “I’ve got you p>
