Chapter 433
Chapter 433:
He turned to Marcus. “Get the car. And bring Mrs. Chandler to me. If she is hiding in her holes, smoke her out. I want to know exactly what orders my grandmother gave p>
“Sir, Mrs. Chandler is p>
“Bring her!” Lucian roared.
Marcus nodded and retreated.
Lucian looked back at Skye. “I have to make a call. The guards are outside the door. Don’t leave this bed p>
He stormed out into the living area of the suite, slamming the heavy oak door behind him.
Skye waited three seconds, listening to his angry voice barking orders into a phone. She threw off the covers. Her movements were sharp, precise. The trembling victim vanished.
She scanned the room. She needed a way out—or a way to communicate. The windows were sealed shut. The balcony was twenty floors up.
Her eyes landed on the chair in the corner. Lucian had thrown his suit jacket there when the doctor arrived.
Skye moved silently across the room. She checked the door—still closed. She could hear Lucian’s muffled voice, yelling about “traitors” and “blood p>
She plunged her hand into the jacket’s inner pocket. Her fingers closed around the cold metal of a lighter, a pack of cigarettes, and then… a phone. Not his main smartphone, but a cheap, plastic burner.
She pulled it out. The screen was locked, but a notification blinked on the front. A text message received two minutes ago. The sender ID was just a string of numbers, but the message was clear.
“Asset located. Hostage situation. Suite 402. Hostiles armed p>
Skye’s eyes narrowed.
W. Wayne. The corporate fixer who handled the dirty money. He wasn’t just an accountant; he was the bagman. And if he was in the library, it meant Lucian had summoned him to the suite’s private office before the lockdown to move assets quickly—probably anticipating a war with Beatrice.
He was just down the hall, within the secure perimeter.
She didn’t need to call anyone. She had her target.
Skye dropped the phone back into the pocket and threw herself onto the chaise lounge near the window, grabbing a magazine from the table.
Y𝗼u𝗋 nе𝘹𝘵 𝗿еаd 𝗂𝘀 𝗈n 𝘣𝖾𝘭𝗇𝘰𝘷e𝘭ѕ.сom
The door opened. It wasn’t Lucian.
It was Marcus.
He paused, seeing her by the window. “Ms. Sterling. You should be in bed p>
Skye looked up at him and let her shoulders slump, the magazine slipping from her fingers. She looked small, fragile.
“I can’t sleep, Marcus,” she said, her voice hollow. “Every time I close my eyes, I see the knife p>
Marcus softened. He was a hard man, but he wasn’t a monster. He had watched her “suffering” for weeks.
“Lucian will handle it,” Marcus said, stepping further into the room.
“Will he?” Skye asked, looking out at the rain-streaked window. “Or will he just kill more people? Is that how this ends? With everyone dead p>
She turned her gaze to him. “Do you think he’ll kill Mrs. Chandler p>
Marcus didn’t answer. His silence was deafening.
“He will,” Skye whispered. “And then Beatrice will come for him. And you’ll be in the middle, Marcus. You’re just a soldier p>
Marcus shifted his weight, uncomfortable. “I do my job p>
“Your job is to protect him,” Skye said, standing and walking slowly toward him, exaggerating her limp. “But who protects you when he goes too far? When he starts a war with his own family over a woman p>
She stopped in front of him. “I need to get out of this room. The smell of antiseptic… the blood on the sheets… it’s making me sick. Please. Just let me sit in the library for five minutes. It’s quiet there. It smells like old paper, not hospitals p>