Chapter 473
Chapter 473:
“Load her up,” Lucian barked. “We have three minutes before Alistair breaches the jammer radius and realizes his security is dead p>
They threw her into the back of the van. Darkness swallowed her.
The engine roared to life. Tires screeched against the pavement.
The side door of the venue burst open.
Alistair Thorne sprinted out, Felix right behind him, gun drawn. They had pushed through the crowd the moment Alistair saw Skye disappear.
“Skye!” Alistair roared.
He saw the taillights of the “Magnolia Florists” van disappearing around the corner. He saw Harper lying on the ground, groaning. He saw Julian’s silver cane lying abandoned on the asphalt.
He stopped. His chest heaved.
The rage that erupted from him was inhuman. It was a primal, terrifying sound that made the remaining security guards freeze in fear.
He fell to his knees where Skye had fallen. He found her phone lying on the asphalt, the screen cracked.
Alistair picked it up. He stared into the darkness where the van had vanished.
“I will kill them,” Alistair whispered, his voice breaking. “I will kill them all p>
The rain began to fall—a sudden downpour that washed away the blood on the asphalt, but not the rage in Alistair’s heart.
He stood, Skye’s broken phone clutched in his hand like a talisman. He turned to Felix, his face a mask of terrifying calm.
“Get the car,” Alistair said. His voice was low, devoid of emotion, which was infinitely worse than shouting. “Call the team. All of them. We are not just rescuing her. We are going to war p>
Ten minutes later, a convoy of black SUVs tore out of the Thorne Estate, heading for the private airstrip.
The rain battered the tarmac, drumming a relentless rhythm against the roof of the idling SUV. Inside, the air was thick with a silence so heavy it felt pressurized. Alistair Thorne sat in the back seat, his gaze fixed on the shattered remains of a smartphone resting in his palm. The spiderweb of cracks over Skye’s photo distorted her smile, turning it into a fragmented memory.
He didn’t need to break into a safe house to find her. He didn’t need to kick down doors in the suburbs. The tire tracks at the manor and the faint, encrypted signal ping from the tracker embedded in her engagement ring—before it was jammed—had pointed in one direction.
уou𝗋 n𝘦x𝘁 𝘳𝖾аd і𝗌 𝘰𝗇 𝘣𝖾𝘭ո𝗼𝗏еl𝘀.𝘤𝘰𝗆
North. Toward the private hangars.
“Sir,” Felix Carter said from the front seat, his voice low, laced with the grim weight of failure. He held a tablet with trembling hands. “We have a problem with the timeline. The security feeds at the venue were looped. Lucian’s team inserted a prerecorded segment of ‘all clear’ into our comms channel. By the time we realized the silence was artificial, they had a twenty-minute head start p>
Alistair’s hand closed around the broken phone. The glass bit into his skin, a grounding pain that kept the red haze of fury from consuming him entirely.
“Satellite imaging confirms a Gulfstream G650 took off thirty minutes ago,” Felix continued, swiping the screen. “They filed a dummy flight plan for Mexico City, but the transponder was switched off as they crossed the Mississippi River, heading west. Based on the fuel load and trajectory, there is only one place Lucian feels untouchable p>
Alistair looked up, his gray eyes stormy and devoid of mercy.
“Nevada. Las Vegas p>
“It’s a four-hour flight,” Felix noted, his jaw tightening. “We can be in the air in ten minutes p>
Alistair shoved the broken phone into his breast pocket, close to his heart.
“Get the jet, Felix. And call the team. All of them. If he takes her to his city, the rules of engagement change. We aren’t just rescuing her anymore p>
He looked out at the rain-slicked tarmac, his voice a terrifyingly calm whisper that vibrated with suppressed violence.