Chapter 395
Chapter 395:
A black SUV was waiting, engine running. Felix opened the back door.
Alistair placed her inside, climbing in next to her. He didn’t let go of her hand.
“Where are we going?” Skye asked, leaning her head back against the leather seat.
“Somewhere they can’t find you,” Alistair said. He tapped the partition glass. “Drive p>
The car surged forward, leaving the wreckage of her sanctuary behind.
The car ride was a blur of city lights streaking across the tinted windows. Skye drifted in and out of consciousness, her body shutting down after the surge of adrenaline.
When the car finally stopped, they were at a private underground entrance. Not a hotel. A residential tower owned by a corporation untraceable to anyone but Alistair.
Alistair carried her inside. The elevator opened directly into a penthouse.
It was stark, modern, and masculine. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the entire city.
He brought her into a guest suite. The sheets were cool, high-thread-count cotton. A man in a suit was already there—a private doctor Alistair had summoned en route.
“Dehydration and an acute stress reaction,” the doctor murmured after checking her vitals. He hung an IV bag on a stand. “She needs sleep. Real sleep. I’ve added a mild sedative p>
Skye felt the cold prick of the needle. The room began to soften around the edges.
Alistair stood by the window while the doctor worked. He was on the phone, his back to the room.
“Tell me,” Alistair said into the receiver.
On the other end, Julian Vance’s voice was weak but urgent. “We have movement, Alistair. My signals intelligence just picked up a localized encryption spike near the harbor p>
Alistair’s hand tightened around the phone. “Lucian p>
“He hasn’t just landed,” Julian corrected grimly. “He’s been here. But he’s mobilizing. The chatter indicates he’s activated a tactical team. The clean-up crew is active. He’s done hiding in the shadows p>
The image shifted in Alistair’s mind to the Dominion Hotel, where Lucian Graves had stood on the balcony days ago.
Now, miles away at a private hangar, Lucian Graves stood over a table covered in maps. He wasn’t wearing a suit. He was dressed in tactical casual wear—black cargo pants, a fitted shirt. He looked like a man preparing for a hunt.
A subordinate handed Lucian a tablet. On the screen was a photo of Skye from the livestream.
𝗖o𝗆𝗽l𝘦𝘵е 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝘳𝗂𝗲ѕ 𝗼𝗻 𝖻𝗲.сo𝗆
Lucian traced the line of her jaw on the screen with a gloved finger.
“Too intelligent for a reality star,” Lucian mused, his voice smooth as oil. “She plays the game too well p>
“The production is moving back to the island tomorrow,” the subordinate said. “Contractual obligations p>
Lucian smiled. It was a predatory expression that showed too many teeth. “An island. Isolated. Perfect p>
Back in the penthouse, Skye stirred. The doctor was gone. The room was dim.
Alistair sat on the edge of the bed. He studied her face, tracing the dark circles under her eyes with his gaze. She murmured in her sleep, turning her head, her brow furrowing in distress.
“Liam…” she whispered. Then, “No p>
Alistair stiffened. Even in her sleep, the ex-husband haunted her.
Then she spoke again, clearer this time.
“Oracle p>
Alistair frowned. She was still fighting for her company, even in her dreams.
He reached out and took her hand. Her fingers were cold. He rubbed them between his own, trying to transfer his warmth to her.
“I will burn them down for this,” he vowed quietly to the sleeping woman. “Mrs. Chandler. All of them p>