Chapter 477
Chapter 477:
Marcus nodded. He stepped forward and grabbed Skye’s arm.
His grip was bruising.
“This way,” he grunted.
Skye yanked her arm, trying to shake him off, but it was like trying to move a boulder. She stumbled, her torn gown catching on her heel, but she quickly righted herself.
She looked back at Tessa, who was still standing by the door, weeping silently.
Skye straightened her spine. She walked toward the stairs, chin held high.
She was a prisoner, yes. But she was Skye Sterling. And she had burned down bigger monsters than Lucian Graves.
Morning light filtered through the barred windows of the guest wing, casting long, prison-like shadows across the expensive Persian rug. Skye had spent the last six hours inspecting every inch of the room. It was luxurious—a four-poster bed, a marble bathroom, a balcony overlooking the desert. But it was a cage.
The balcony doors were reinforced glass, locked with a biometric keypad. The ventilation grate near the ceiling was welded shut. She had tried to pry it open with the heel of her shoe, but it hadn’t budged.
The door clicked and swung open.
Tessa entered, carrying a silver tray. Two guards stood in the hallway, weapons visible in their holsters. Tessa moved like a ghost, her eyes fixed on the floor.
Tessa set the tray on the small table. Poached eggs, toast, fresh fruit. It looked delicious. It looked like poison.
“Eat,” Tessa whispered, her voice barely audible.
Skye stood by the window, her arms crossed over her ruined black gown.
“Where is he p>
Tessa arranged the silverware with trembling hands. “Mr. Graves is in the study p>
“I want to see him,” Skye demanded. “Now p>
Tessa paused. She looked at Skye, fear swimming in her gaze.
“He is not in a good mood. The news from the coast… upsets him p>
“Good,” Skye said. “Neither am I p>
She walked past Tessa toward the door. The guards stepped forward to block her, but Tessa raised a hand, her voice gaining a fraction of strength—born of desperation to keep the peace.
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“Let her come. He asked for her anyway p>
They marched Skye down the long corridor, past rooms filled with stolen art and illegal ivory. They reached the study at the end of the hall. The doors were open.
Lucian sat behind a desk larger than most cars. The wall behind him was covered in screens—news feeds, stock tickers, surveillance footage.
One screen in the center dominated the others. It showed a breaking news report from Seaview City.
“Police are currently raiding a warehouse in the shipping district following an anonymous tip…” the reporter said.
“Your hero is flailing,” Lucian said without looking up. He gestured to the screen with his pen. “He’s chasing ghosts in Seaview while you’re rotting here p>
Skye stepped closer. She watched the footage. It was chaotic, loud, and completely unlike Alistair’s usual precision.
“He’s smarter than you,” she said, her voice steady. “He knows you’re watching. That raid? It’s noise. It’s a distraction to make you feel safe p>
Lucian paused. He looked up, his eyes narrowing.
“A distraction p>
“Alistair doesn’t raid empty warehouses unless he wants you to look there,” Skye lied. She had no idea if it was true, but she needed to rattle him. “He’s probably already in Nevada. He’s probably watching this house right now p>