Chapter 331
Chapter 331:
Alistair looked down.
Liam lay on the marble, his hands clutching his stomach. Blood, dark and thick, was already seeping through his fingers, staining the white stone.
Liam looked up at Alistair. Their eyes locked.
There was no gratitude in Liam’s eyes. Only a dark, triumphant accusation. I did what you couldn’t. I saved her.
Alistair’s face was unreadable, a mask of stone. He looked at the wound, then at Skye, who was scrambling to her knees beside Liam.
“Clear out,” Alistair ordered his men, his voice devoid of emotion. “Police are two minutes out p>
“But…” Felix started to protest.
“Go p>
Alistair turned and vanished into the shadows of the rain, leaving the scene to look like a botched burglary, ensuring Skye wouldn’t be implicated in a gang war.
Skye pressed her hands over Liam’s, trying to stem the flow. The warmth of his blood was terrifying.
“Liam… you idiot,” she hissed, her voice shaking, not with sorrow, but with fury. “Why did you do that? You don’t get to be the hero. You don’t earn redemption this cheaply p>
Liam gripped her wrist. His hand was slippery with his own blood. He looked pale, his skin turning gray in the dim light.
“You came…” he whispered.
He squeezed her hand, his strength fading but his grip desperate. “You came for me p>
Sirens wailed in the distance, getting louder. Blue and red lights began to dance on the wet walls of the foyer.
“Stay with me,” Skye commanded, pressing harder. She hated him. She truly did. But she couldn’t watch the life drain out of him, not like this. Not when he still owed her the truth.
Liam smiled weakly. It was a ghost of a smile.
The paramedics rushed in, a flurry of noise and activity. Skye was forced back, her hands covered in red.
𝗘𝘯𝗷𝗈у 𝗋𝖾𝗮𝘥𝘪n𝗴 𝗹𝖾g𝗮𝗹𝘭у 𝗈𝘯 𝘣𝘦.𝗰o𝗺
An hour later, the hospital waiting room was deafeningly quiet. Skye stood at the sink in the private bathroom. She scrubbed her hands. The water turned pink, then clear.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked exhausted. Haunted.
But her mind was racing. She replayed the scene in the foyer. The geometry of the fight.
Alistair was the fastest fighter she had ever seen. But tonight, he had been occupied. Or had he?
A dark thought took root in her mind. Alistair hated Liam. He blamed the Kensingtons for everything. Had he been a fraction of a second slow on purpose?
The doctor stepped into the waiting room.
“Ms. Sterling?” he asked.
Skye dried her hands and stepped out.
“He’s stable,” the doctor said. “The blade missed the vital organs. It hit the oblique muscle and nicked the bowel, but we repaired it. He lost blood, but he’ll live. It was… lucky p>
Lucky.
Skye looked at the doctor, but she didn’t see him. She saw Alistair’s cold eyes. She saw Liam’s triumphant look.
It wasn’t luck. It was a play. A twisted, bloody play performed on the stage of her emotions.