Chapter 337
Chapter 337:
He stood. He didn’t move toward her. He stayed by the sofa, respecting the distance she’d put between them.
“Julian told you everything?” he asked.
“He told me what you were too much of a coward to say,” Skye retorted, closing the door but not locking it.
Alistair flinched. The word coward hit him harder than the slap.
“Cowardice? No. Shame,” he said.
He walked closer, stopping when she took a step back.
“My father signed that pact,” Alistair said. “His sin is my inheritance. I didn’t want you to look at me and see… them p>
Skye looked at him. She saw the exhaustion in his eyes. She saw the fear—not of death, but of losing her respect.
“I see you, Alistair,” she said, her voice softening just a fraction. “I see the man who saved me in the rain. I see the man who hesitated tonight because he was fighting two wars at once p>
Alistair looked down.
“But the lying stops now,” Skye said, her voice sharpening. “Or you leave. And you never come back p>
Alistair nodded. Then he lifted his gaze, steady.
“The key. Arthur surrendered his personal effects when he was processed. But he can designate a lawyer or a family member to retrieve them p>
Skye blinked, surprised. “How do you know p>
“I have a contact in the prison administration,” Alistair said. “Arthur needs to sign a release form. He won’t do it unless he thinks he’s winning p>
“Arthur needs to be tricked,” Skye said, her mind already moving.
“I’m going to see him tomorrow,” she decided.
“I’m coming with you,” Alistair said.
“As a driver,” Skye countered. “Not a bodyguard. I need to do the talking p>
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Alistair agreed.
He stepped into her personal space then. The tension shifted. It wasn’t angry anymore. It was magnetic.
He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered at her jawline.
“I would burn the world to rewrite the past for you, Skye,” he whispered.
Skye’s breath hitched. She felt the pull of him, the gravity of their shared trauma.
“Just help me fix the future,” she said.
He kissed her forehead. It was a chaste kiss—solemn, like a vow.
“I’m staying,” he said, moving toward the guest room. “Security p>
Skye didn’t argue. Tonight, she didn’t want to be alone.
The drive to the Federal Correctional Institution was silent. Alistair drove with focused intensity, his eyes scanning the mirrors. Skye checked her reflection in the visor. She had applied makeup to look softer, younger—the perfect, concerned niece.
They arrived at the facility. It was a fortress of razor wire and gray concrete.
Alistair parked the car. “I’ll be right here,” he said. “If you’re not out in an hour, I’m calling the Warden directly p>
Skye nodded and stepped out.
The processing was dehumanizing. Metal detectors. Pat-downs. Doors buzzing open and clanking shut.