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Chapter 417
Chapter 417:
She grabbed the heavy silver candlestick from the dining table and went to the window.
She couldn’t break the glass—it was reinforced. But she could signal.
She started flashing the room lights on and off.
S.O.S.
Short. Short. Short. Long. Long. Long.
Out in the darkness, a Zodiac boat was approaching silently, engines cut, paddling the last mile.
But it wasn’t Alistair.
The men in the Zodiac wore black wetsuits and carried suppressed MP5s. They weren’t there to rescue.
One of them looked up at the flashing light.
“Target acquired,” the assassin whispered into his throat mic. “Starboard suite. Moving to eliminate p>
Skye didn’t know it, but she had just guided her executioners right to her door.
Skye stopped flashing the lights. She felt exposed. A primal instinct—the same one that had warned her about the sniper—pricked at the back of her neck.
Something was wrong.
She went to the door and pressed her ear against the wood.
Silence.
Then a dull thump, like a body hitting the floor.
The guard.
Skye backed away. “Alistair?” she whispered.
The handle turned slowly.
Skye gripped the candlestick. If it was Alistair, he would knock.
He would call her name.
The door swung open.
A man in a black tactical mask stepped in. He raised a gun fitted with a long silencer.
He didn’t speak. He just aimed at her chest.
Skye threw the candlestick. It was a desperate throw, but it spun through the air and cracked the assassin’s face mask. He grunted, his aim spoiling.
𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗱𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝗯𝗲.𝗰𝗼𝗺
Phut-phut.
Two bullets tore into the wall beside Skye’s head.
Skye dove behind the heavy oak desk.
“Target is resisting,” the man growled.
He moved into the room.
Suddenly, an alarm blared throughout the ship. Lucian’s security system had detected the breach.
“Intruders!” Lucian’s voice roared over the intercom. “Seal the decks p>
The assassin cursed and rushed the desk.
Skye scrambled backward, kicking out. Her heel connected with his knee. He stumbled.
Before he could recover, shots rang out from the hallway—loud, unsuppressed shots.
Lucian Graves appeared in the doorway, a gold-plated Desert Eagle in his hand. He fired twice.
The assassin’s chest exploded. He dropped dead.
Lucian stormed into the room, stepping over the body. He looked wild, furious.
“You brought them here!” he accused Skye, grabbing her arm and hauling her up.
“They tried to kill me!” Skye screamed, pointing at the dead man. “Look at him! That’s not a rescue team p>
