Chapter 444
Chapter 444:
Skye waited for the pain. She waited for the crushing weight of failure, for the grief of a marriage that had consumed five years of her life and one entire previous existence. She waited for her heart to stutter.
But there was nothing.
Just air filling her lungs. Just the steady beat of her pulse in her ears.
A wave of relief washed over her, so potent it almost made her dizzy. It felt like taking off a coat that had been soaked through and frozen to her skin for a decade. She was light. She was free.
“It is done,” Liam said. He stared at a spot on the wall just above her left shoulder. “You are nothing to us now. Leave p>
Sienna perched herself on the armrest of his wheelchair, looping her arm through his. She pressed her fake breasts against his bicep, clinging to him like a parasite finding a new host.
“You heard him,” she chirped. “Get out of our building p>
Skye looked at the document one last time. Then she looked at Liam, trapped in that chair, trapped in his mind.
“Goodbye, Liam,” she said softly.
It wasn’t a farewell to the man sitting there. It was a goodbye to the memory of him. To the ghost that had haunted her nightmares.
He didn’t respond. He just sat there, vibrating slightly, as if the effort of remaining conscious took all his energy.
Skye turned on her heel. She didn’t look back at the gold office. She didn’t look back at the woman who was currently destroying the Kensington legacy. She walked to the elevator, pressed the button, and descended.
When she walked out of the building, the city air tasted different. It tasted like gasoline and rain, but to her, it was sweeter than ambrosia.
A black Maybach idled at the curb.
It was an imposing machine, sleek and dangerous, taking up two parking spots. The engine purred with a low, threatening rumble.
As she approached, the rear window rolled down.
Alistair Thorne sat in the shadows of the back seat. He wore a dark charcoal suit, his collar unbuttoned, exposing the hollow of his throat. His dark eyes locked onto hers instantly.
He didn’t smile. He scanned her—checking for injuries, checking for tears. He searched for any sign the Kensingtons had hurt her.
𝖮𝗿іgi𝗇𝗮𝗅 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌ion 𝗼𝘯 𝖻е.𝘤о𝗆
Skye didn’t say a word.
She walked up to the car and held the settlement papers against the open window.
Alistair’s gaze dropped to the header. Then to the signature line.
His pupils dilated, his irises seeming to be swallowed by black. It was a look of pure, predatory hunger.
The lock clicked. He pushed the door open from the inside, practically shoving it wide.
“Get in,” he growled.
Skye climbed into the warm, leather-scented interior. Before she could even settle into the seat, Alistair moved.
He pulled her toward him. It wasn’t gentle. It was a collision. His arms wrapped around her waist, crushing her against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling sharply, as if he’d been holding his breath for hours.
“Finally,” he breathed against her skin. The word vibrated straight to her bones.
He pulled back just enough to look at her. His hands framed her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbones. He looked like a man who had just won a war he’d been fighting for centuries.
He didn’t ask how she felt. He didn’t ask about Liam. He turned his head toward the partition separating them from the driver.
“The courthouse,” Alistair commanded. “Now p>
Skye blinked, startled. “Alistair,” she said, bracing a hand against his chest to steady herself. “It’s six p.m. The clerk’s office is closed p>