Chapter 574
Chapter 574:
But as Alistair led her to a chair, Skye looked back at the darkness beyond the gates.
Liam wasn’t just drunk. She knew him. She knew every version of him.
The man who had just crashed her party wasn’t a drunk ex-husband.
He was a man screaming a warning in a language only she was supposed to understand. And he had deliberately made a scene to deliver it.
Morning didn’t break; it shattered.
Skye woke with a gasp, her body jackknifing upright in the massive bed. The silk sheets were soaked through with cold sweat, clinging to her skin like a shroud.
She tried to inhale, but her lungs felt like they were filled with crushed glass. A tremor started in her hands and raced inward, shaking her bones until her teeth chattered audibly.
Flu, she told herself. Just a reaction to the stress.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet hit the floor, but she couldn’t feel the rug. Her extremities were numb, buzzing with static.
She stumbled toward the bathroom. Her reflection in the vanity mirror was a stranger. Her skin was the color of old parchment, translucent and gray. Her pupils were blown wide, black holes swallowing the hazel.
She gripped the marble counter to steady herself. Pain, sharp and electric, shot up her arms.
“Skye p>
Alistair’s voice came from the bedroom. He sounded alert, instantly awake.
“I’m… okay,” Skye tried to say, but her voice was a croak. She reached for a glass of water on the counter. Her hand spasmed. The glass slipped, shattering in the porcelain sink.
Alistair was in the doorway a second later. He saw her gripping the counter, saw the sweat, saw the tremors racking her frame. He didn’t ask if she was okay. He was at her side in two strides, scooping her up.
“Felix!” Alistair roared, his voice echoing through the master suite. “Get the medical team! Now p>
Downstairs, in the security hub, Harper Quinn and Felix were reviewing the footage from the night before.
𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝖾.𝖼𝗈𝗆
“Freeze that,” Harper said, pointing at a monitor. “Frame 409 p>
The image paused. It was the catering staff setting up the champagne tower before the guests arrived.
“Zoom in on the guy with the tray,” Harper commanded.
The pixels sharpened. A man in a waiter’s uniform was pouring the top bottle. He had a scar over his left eyebrow.
“That’s Preston,” Felix growled. “Preston Miller. He was Vargo’s right hand before Vargo went down. He must have aligned with Lucian’s remnants p>
“He wasn’t pouring champagne,” Harper whispered, horror dawning on her face. “He was dosing it p>
Felix grabbed his radio. “Code Red. Possible biological containment breach. Seal the estate p>
Miles away, in the rusted belly of an abandoned shipyard, the air smelled of salt and rot.
Liam Kensington sat on a crate, nursing a split lip. The “drunk” act had cost him a rib re-fracture, courtesy of Alistair’s security, but it had gotten him exactly where he needed to be.
“You look like hell, Kensington p>