Chapter 516
Chapter 516:
Skye ran to the desk. She plugged the worm drive—the one she had retrieved from her hairbrush and carried in her clutch for days—into Lucian’s primary terminal. She hit “Execute p>
Assets transferring, the screen blinked. “Zeroing accounts p>
She pulled the drive.
Skye and Kael ran.
They burst out of the villa. Alistair was waiting at the gate with a convoy, alerted by William.
“You got him?” Alistair asked, looking at Kael with surprise.
“I got him,” Skye said. “He’s with us p>
As they drove away, the villa exploded into flames behind them. Skye had left a little present in the gas main—the same trick Alistair had used on the data center.
Lucian Graves watched his kingdom burn from the window as he regained consciousness. He touched his bleeding jaw.
He smiled.
“Well played, wife,” he whispered. “Well played p>
The chase was on. But this time, the Oracle was free.
The tip of the knife was cold against her skin.
It pressed against the silk covering Skye Sterling’s waist, a singular point of pressure that promised violence. It didn’t break the skin—not yet—but it sliced through the expensive fabric of her dress with a sound like a whisper.
Skye didn’t breathe. She didn’t flinch. She kept her chin high, her eyes locked on the man holding the blade.
Vargo.
He was a mercenary, a hired gun brought in to replace the men Lucian had lost in the explosion. His eyes were empty of recognition, filled only with a professional indifference that was somehow worse than hatred. He didn’t care about loyalty; he cared about the paycheck Lucian had promised him from the emergency reserves.
“Do it,” Skye said, her voice steady, though her pulse hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She knew she had to maintain the upper hand, even as a hostage. “Cut me. Let’s see how much leverage Lucian has left if his bargaining chip bleeds out on the floor p>
Vargo’s jaw tightened. The knife dug a millimeter deeper. A tiny bloom of pain radiated from the spot.
Heavy, uneven footsteps echoed down the marble corridor. They were deliberate, but carried the slight drag of an injury. The sound of a predator who had survived a fire but was still burned.
𝖣ai𝗅𝘺 𝘶𝗽𝘥𝘢𝗍eѕ 𝗈𝗻 𝗯𝖾lո𝘰𝘷𝖾lѕ.со𝗆
Vargo heard them. His eyes flickered. He pulled the knife back, the steel disappearing into his sleeve with a practiced, fluid motion. He took a step back, transforming instantly from an executioner into a statue of obedience.
Lucian Graves rounded the corner.
He was buttoning the cuffs of a fresh shirt, but it couldn’t hide the thick gauze bandage wrapping up the left side of his neck. His face was paler than usual, the skin around his jaw tight with pain. He didn’t look at Vargo. He didn’t look at the knife that was no longer there. His gaze swept over Skye, noting the small tear in her dress—the dress he had forced her to change into upon her surrender.
The air in the hallway seemed to thicken, turning into something viscous and hard to breathe.
“Vargo,” Lucian said. His voice was a rasp, damaged by smoke, a rough rumble that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards. “Bring the car around p>
He didn’t ask if she was afraid. He didn’t ask why she had walked back into the lion’s den after escaping. He knew. He held the only card that mattered: Liam Kensington.
Vargo bowed his head, a sharp, jerky movement. “Yes, Boss p>
He walked past Skye. As he did, he turned his head slightly. His dark eyes bored into hers, promising a future conversation that would end with her blood on the floor. Then he was gone.
Lucian stopped in front of Skye. He was close enough that she could smell him—antiseptic, burnt ozone, and the underlying scent of expensive scotch.