Chapter 569
Chapter 569:
Bullets chipped the floor around Lucian’s feet. He turned and sprinted toward the kitchen service doors.
“Go,” Liam gasped, clutching his shoulder. His pupils were already dilating, black swallowing the blue. “I can’t… I can’t move. Go finish it p>
“What was in that?” Skye cried, trying to help him up.
“Blue Velvet,” Liam wheezed. “Concentrated. Go, Skye! Don’t let him escape p>
Skye looked at Liam, then at Alistair dropping from the balcony to pursue Lucian.
She kissed Liam’s forehead—a quick, fierce press of lips. “Stay alive p>
She kicked off her heels. She tore the slit in her red dress up to her thigh. And she ran.
She burst into the kitchen. It was a labyrinth of stainless steel. Steam hissed from overturned pots.
Alistair was fighting Lucian near the walk-in freezer.
Lucian had grabbed a butcher’s cleaver. He swung it wildly. Alistair dodged, but Lucian was fueled by the strength of insanity.
“You stole her!” Lucian screamed, swinging the cleaver. “She was mine p>
“She was never yours!” Alistair countered, landing a punch to Lucian’s ribs.
Lucian stumbled back, crashing into a rack of pans. He saw Skye enter.
His eyes lit up.
“Skye!” he rasped. “Come here! Let’s die together p>
He grabbed a bottle of high-proof cooking brandy from the counter. He smashed it against the stove pilot light.
Whoosh.
Fire erupted, creating a wall of flame between him and Alistair. Lucian turned and ran out the loading dock door into the rainy night.
“He’s heading for the garage!” Alistair shouted, shielding his face from the heat. “He’s going for the lighthouse road p>
Skye grabbed a fire extinguisher, blasted a path through the flames, and joined Alistair. They burst out into the alley.
Lucian’s taillights were fading in the distance. He had stolen a diplomatic SUV.
𝘙𝖾𝘢𝗱 𝘁𝘩e 𝘳e𝖺𝗅 s𝗍o𝗿𝘆 о𝗇 𝘣е.𝗰𝘰𝗺
Alistair’s car pulled up. Felix was driving.
“Get in!” Felix yelled.
Skye jumped into the passenger seat. Alistair took the back.
“Follow that SUV,” Skye ordered. “Don’t let him reach the water p>
The chase was a blur of wet asphalt and adrenaline. The SUV swerved dangerously along the coastal highway, clipping guardrails, sparks flying.
“He’s not going to the harbor,” Skye realized, watching the GPS. “He’s going to the Old Lighthouse p>
“Dead Man’s Cliff,” Felix muttered. “There’s no way out p>
The lighthouse stood on a jagged promontory, battered by waves. It was a relic—abandoned and ominous.
The SUV crashed through the rusty gate and skidded to a halt near the edge.
Lucian stumbled out. He ran toward the lighthouse tower.
Felix stopped the car.
“Stay here,” Alistair told Felix. “Call the police p>
Skye and Alistair ran through the rain. The wind howled, tearing at Skye’s red dress.
They entered the lighthouse. The spiral staircase was rusted, groaning under their weight.