Chapter 584
Chapter 584:
Preston dropped, a bullet in his leg.
Liam looked up.
Alistair was on the crane. He had followed Liam.
“You idiot!” Liam shouted. “Get out of here! The cops are coming p>
“We finish this together!” Alistair shouted back, providing cover fire.
The police cruisers swarmed the entrance. SWAT teams poured out.
“Drop your weapons!” the megaphone boomed.
Preston’s men surrendered, throwing their guns down.
Liam stood up. He looked at Alistair on the crane, then at the police.
He dropped his gun.
He reached up and unclasped the mask. It fell to the ground with a metallic clang.
The police spotlight hit his face.
“It’s Kensington,” a cop shouted. “Secure him p>
Skye ran out from behind the police line. She had arrived with Julian just in time to see it.
“Liam!” she screamed.
Liam looked at her. He was bleeding. He was handcuffed. He was going to prison for a long time.
But for the first time in five years, he smiled. A real smile.
“It’s over, Skye,” he called out as they shoved him into the back of the cruiser. “You’re free p>
Skye watched the car drive away, the red and blue lights painting the wet pavement. She felt Alistair’s hand on her shoulder.
“He did it for you,” Alistair said softly.
“I know,” Skye wept. “I know p>
One month later.
The secluded north wing of the Kensington Manor estate had been transformed.
S𝘶рр𝘰𝘳𝗍 t𝗵𝘦 𝘢𝘶𝗍𝘩or 𝖻𝘆 𝘳𝘦𝗮dіոg 𝗼n be.𝖼𝘰m
Skye walked through the wrought-iron gates. The air smelled sweet—impossibly sweet.
It was a garden.
Acres of white roses—thousands of them—bloomed in defiant perfection against the gray stone of the manor walls.
Liam had built it. Secretly. Over the last year. He had restored the family’s neglected grounds. While they were fighting, while they were enemies, he had been building the one thing she had told him she wanted in their first life.
A sanctuary.
In the center of the garden stood a glass greenhouse. Inside, on an easel, was a painting. It was the sketch Skye had made on a napkin on their first date, five years ago.
Our Dream Home.
Skye touched the canvas. Tears blurred her vision. He had kept it.
“He wanted you to have this,” Alistair said, walking up behind her. “He signed the deed over to you the day before he was arrested p>
“How is he?” Skye asked, wiping her eyes.
“He’s… content,” Alistair said. “He pleaded guilty. Five years. With good behavior, maybe three. He’s working in the prison library. He says it’s quiet p>
Skye nodded. It was a penance he had chosen.
Alistair turned her around. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the sea of white roses.