Chapter 329
Chapter 329:
Liam entered the house, the silence pressing against his ears. He went straight to his study—the temporary one set up in the guest wing. He didn’t turn on the main lights. He sat at his desk, the only illumination coming from a small lamp and the lightning flashes outside.
He pulled a photo out of his drawer. It was a blurry, zoomed-in shot of Skye entering the Oracle building months ago. But Liam didn’t look at her face. He looked at the shadow behind her—Alistair Thorne.
The lights flickered. Once. Twice.
Then the house plunged into absolute darkness.
Liam sat still. He waited for the hum of the backup generators.
The manor was a fortress; the power should never fail.
But the hum never came.
Silence reigned—heavy, thick.
He pulled his phone from his pocket. No signal. The bars were gone, replaced by a searching icon.
A jammer.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up. This was not a power outage. This was a siege.
The sound of shattering glass echoed from the west wing—the conservatory. It was the sound of a barrier being breached.
Liam’s hand moved instinctively to the heavy antique letter opener on his desk. It was brass, sharp enough to open envelopes, heavy enough to crack a skull. He was in no condition to fight—his body still aching from the trauma, his equilibrium shot from the concussion—but he would not die on his knees.
He moved silently to the door, pressing his back against the wall. The hallway was a tunnel of shadows.
A red laser dot swept across the portrait of his grandfather hanging on the opposite wall. It danced over the old man’s painted eyes.
Liam held his breath.
He saw them. Three figures moving in tactical formation. They wore black gear, night-vision goggles covering their faces. They moved like water—silent and fluid. They weren’t burglars. They were professionals. Cleaners sent to finish what he had failed to do to himself.
Wee𝘬lу 𝘳е𝗹𝗲a𝗌𝖾𝗌 о𝗻 𝗯e.𝘤𝗈m
Liam waited until the first man passed his doorway. He didn’t think.
He just acted.
He lunged, driving the brass letter opener down.
The man grunted, surprised, but his reflexes were fast. He twisted, and the metal tip grazed his shoulder instead of his neck.
The struggle was brutal and short. A vase crashed to the floor, exploding into ceramic shrapnel. Liam took a heavy blow to the ribs that knocked the wind out of him, reigniting the pain in his chest, but he managed to kick the man’s knee backward.
A sickening pop echoed in the hall.
The second intruder turned, raising a pistol with a long silencer.
Liam dove behind a marble pillar just as the stone chipped near his head. Dust sprayed into his eyes.
He was pinned. He was unarmed. He was alone in the dark.
Then the front doors of the manor exploded inward.
It was not a tactical breach. It was demolition. The heavy wood splintered, and a new group of figures stormed into the foyer, their flashlights cutting through the darkness like blades.