Chapter 437
Chapter 437:
He hauled her up, wrapping a muscular arm around her neck, cutting off her air. He jammed the barrel of his gun into her temple. The metal was hot from firing.
“Stop!” Lucian screamed. “One more step and I paint the wall with her brains p>
The shooting stopped instantly. The silence that followed was louder than the gunfire.
Alistair froze. He stood ten feet away, his gun raised, pointing directly at Lucian’s face. His chest was heaving. His eyes were locked on Skye’s terrified face.
“Let her go, Lucian,” Alistair said. His voice was deadly calm, a low rumble that promised death. “You’re done. The building is surrounded. There is nowhere to go p>
“I walk out of here,” Lucian panted, dragging Skye backward toward the service exit in the kitchen, “or she dies. Your choice, Thorne. How much is she worth to you p>
Skye clawed at Lucian’s arm, gasping for breath. The gun dug painfully into her skin. She looked at Alistair. She saw the agony in his eyes. He had the shot—she knew he did—but the risk was too high.
“Drop the gun,” Lucian ordered. “Now p>
Alistair hesitated. His finger twitched on the trigger.
Skye shook her head slightly. Don’t.
Alistair saw it. He saw the plea in her eyes. Not for her life, but for his soul. He couldn’t risk killing her.
Slowly, agonizingly, Alistair lowered his weapon. He opened his hand. The gun fell to the carpet with a muffled thud.
“Back off!” Alistair yelled to his men. “Let him pass p>
The mercenaries lowered their weapons, stepping aside.
Lucian laughed, a manic, broken sound. “That’s what I thought. Love makes you weak, Alistair p>
He dragged Skye into the kitchen, toward the service elevator.
The service corridor was stark white, the fluorescent lights humming overhead. Lucian dragged Skye backward, his gun never leaving her head. Marcus appeared from a side door, blood running down his face, but he held the elevator open.
“We have the helipad,” Marcus said breathlessly.
Lucian shoved Skye into the elevator. He kept his gun trained on the hallway as the doors began to slide shut.
Alistair appeared at the end of the corridor. He was sprinting, unarmed.
𝖱𝘦𝘢𝗱 𝖿𝗿о𝘮 y𝗈𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝗵𝗈𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗇 𝘣е.co𝗺
“Skye p>
Lucian sneered. As the doors were closing, he looked at Skye. “You were a good investment,” he said coldly. “But the market has crashed p>
He shoved her. Hard.
Skye flew backward out of the elevator just as the doors sealed. She hit the corridor floor with a bone-jarring thud, sliding across the linoleum.
The elevator doors clanged shut. The hum of the motors signaled their ascent.
Skye lay on the floor, gasping. She expected a bullet in her back.
She expected an explosion.
Instead, she felt warm hands.
Alistair slid to his knees beside her, skidding on the polished floor. He gathered her up immediately, pulling her into his lap.
His hands were frantic, checking her face, her arms, her neck.
“Skye,” he choked out. “Did he hurt you? Are you shot p>
Skye shook her head, unable to speak. She clung to his tactical vest, burying her face in the Kevlar. It was hard and uncomfortable, but it was the safest thing she had ever felt.
“He’s gone,” she whispered. “He got away p>
“I don’t care,” Alistair said fiercely. He wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to him. He buried his face in her messy hair, inhaling deeply. He was shaking. The invincible Alistair Thorne was trembling. “I don’t care if the whole world burns. I have you p>