Chapter 472
Chapter 472:
“Skye, wait!” Alistair shouted, blocked by a group of investors congratulating him. A wall of tuxedo-clad bankers separated them, oblivious to the panic in Skye’s eyes.
Skye didn’t wait. The threat was too specific, too immediate.
She grabbed Harper, who was nearby.
“Come with me! Julian is in trouble p>
They rushed out the side exit, away from the valet stand, toward the VIP parking area, which was dimmer and quieter.
The night air was cold. Skye reached into her clutch for her phone, intending to call Felix. She tapped the screen frantically.
No signal.
“Dammit,” Skye hissed. “A jammer. They’re jamming the frequency p>
“My phone is dead too,” Harper said, staring at her screen. “What is going on p>
“It’s a trap,” Skye realized, dread pooling in her stomach.
She stopped running. Her mind raced. She was in a blind spot. The jammer meant communication was cut. Going further into the dark was suicide.
“We need to go back,” Skye said, grabbing Harper’s arm. “We need to get Felix. I can’t walk into this without backup p>
But just as they turned to retreat, a spotlight clicked on.
It came from a white van parked in the corner of the lot. The side of the van read “Magnolia Florists”—the very truck that had cleared security earlier. The disguise had worked perfectly.
In the pool of light, lying on the asphalt, was the silver-handled cane Julian had been using.
And next to it was the velvet box containing the Romanov Emeralds, overturned.
“Julian?” Skye whispered, her resolve cracking. That was his cane. He never went anywhere without it.
The side door of the florist van slid open.
Lucian Graves stepped out. He wasn’t wearing a tuxedo. He was wearing tactical gear. He held a taser in his hand, the prongs sparking blue in the darkness.
Two masked men flanked him. Behind them, inside the van, Skye could see a pair of legs bound in zip ties—wearing Julian’s velvet trousers.
“Julian!” Skye screamed.
𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦.𝘤𝘰𝘮
The sight of her brother—or what she thought was her brother—overrode her tactical instincts. She took a step forward.
“Don’t!” Harper yelled, reaching into her purse for her pepper spray.
Lucian moved. He was fast. Terrifyingly fast.
He didn’t aim for Skye. He aimed for Harper.
He fired the taser.
The prongs hit Harper in the chest. She convulsed and dropped to the ground, the pepper spray clattering uselessly away.
“Harper!” Skye shouted.
She turned to run back to the venue, to scream for Alistair, but the two masked men had already flanked her. They cut off her retreat.
“Scream, and I’ll shoot the designer,” Lucian warned, pointing a silenced pistol at Harper’s twitching form.
Skye froze. She raised her hands slowly.
She was cornered. No earpiece. No signal. No weapon.
“You look beautiful, my dear,” Lucian whispered, walking up to her. “The black suits you p>
He didn’t tase her. He simply struck her hard on the temple with the butt of the gun.
Pain exploded in her skull. The world tilted sideways.
Skye collapsed onto the asphalt.