Chapter 486
Chapter 486:
Skye turned to the wheel. She placed her hand on the cold wood. She knew she didn’t need to win. She just needed to stall.
“Red,” she said loudly. “Red like blood p>
It was a fifty-fifty bet. A safe bet. But it was also a signal.
The croupier spun the ball.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
The ball bounced. The room held its breath.
Skye looked at Lucian.
Game over, she thought.
The ball landed.
Red 7.
The room exploded.
But Skye didn’t hear the cheers. Before the confetti could even settle, the lights in the casino abruptly cut out, plunging the room into chaos.
A piercing alarm screamed.
In the darkness, a strong arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her off her feet. She didn’t scream. She knew that scent.
Sandalwood and rain.
“I’ve got you,” Alistair growled in her ear. “Run p>
The darkness didn’t last. It couldn’t. It was shattered not by dawn, but by the violent, blinding eruption of emergency floodlights that slammed into existence with physical force.
One moment, Skye was wrapped in the scent of sandalwood and rain, Alistair’s arm a steel band around her waist, his voice a growl of promise in her ear. The next, the world blazed white. The sudden illumination was disorienting, a tactical flashbang that left spots dancing in her vision.
“Secure the exits!” a voice roared over the chaos.
A wall of bodies, Lucian’s private mercenaries moving with the precision of a riot squad, surged forward. The impact was tectonic. Skye felt Alistair’s grip tighten desperately, his fingers digging into her hip, but the sheer mass of the separating crowd was like a riptide. He was ripped away from her, swallowed by a sea of panicked tourists and armed guards.
Run, his voice echoed in her memory, but the command was already obsolete.
R𝗲𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝗻 а𝘯у dе𝗏𝗂с𝘦 𝗼𝗇 𝖻𝖾l𝗇𝘰𝘃𝘦lѕ.𝘤𝗼𝗺
The perimeter sealed with the finality of a coffin lid.
Skye stumbled, blinking against the harsh amber glare of the floodlights. The roulette wheel was still spinning slowly, the ball resting mockingly on Red 7.
Before she could take a step toward the shadow where Alistair had vanished, a hand clamped onto her upper arm. It wasn’t warm. It was cold, possessive, and unyielding.
“An interesting trick,” Lucian Graves whispered against her ear. His voice was calm, but there was a serrated edge to it that made the hair on her arms rise. “Did you think cutting the power would void the bet? Did you think he could just walk in here and take what is mine p>
Skye turned to face him. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird, but she forced her expression into bored indifference. She couldn’t let him know how close she’d been to freedom. She couldn’t let him know that hope had just touched her in the dark, only to be ripped away.
“I didn’t cut the power, Lucian,” she said, steady despite the adrenaline flooding her veins. “And I won. Red 7. You owe the room a round of drinks. And you owe me my freedom p>
Lucian looked at the roulette wheel, then back at her. His eyes were dark pools of calculation. He scanned the room, his gaze lingering on the exits where his security team was already sealing the perimeter. He knew Alistair was gone. He knew the threat had receded, for now.
“The game was interrupted,” Lucian declared, his grip tightening until she felt a bruise forming. “In Vegas, a game interrupted is a game voided p>
“You’re welching,” Skye challenged, lifting her chin. “The house always pays. Unless the house is broke p>