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Chapter 623
Chapter 623:
Spotlights illuminated glass cases filled with oddities—antique surgical tools, jars of preserved organs, and intricate clockwork mechanisms. In the center of the room stood a large, ornate iron cage. It was painted gold, with a silk Persian rug on the floor inside.
It was a gilded prison for a prized pet.
The guards threw her inside and slammed the gate. The lock clicked with a sound of finality.
Skye crawled to the bars, gripping them with white knuckles. She pressed her face against the cold metal, watching Bianca descend the stairs.
Bianca stood outside the cage, a cruel smile returning to her face now that Lucian wasn’t looking.
“Look at you,” Bianca laughed. “You’re going to rot in there, Skye. And when you’re done rotting, he’ll stuff you and put you on the wall upstairs p>
Skye let out a sob, burying her face in her hands. But behind her palms, her eyes were dry, sharp, and calculating.
She checked the hinges of the cage. Welded shut. The lock was a customized electronic keypad.
“Please,” Skye begged, looking up at Bianca. “Help me p>
“Beg harder,” Bianca sneered. “Bark for me p>
Skye gritted her teeth. This was the price. The humiliation was the currency she had to pay to buy time. She opened her mouth to make a sound—any sound—to feed Bianca’s ego.
“That’s enough p>
Lucian’s voice echoed down the stairs. He descended slowly, holding a glass of wine.
“She is a guest, Bianca. A permanent one. Do not treat my collection with disrespect p>
Bianca flinched. “I… I was just p>
E𝘹𝖼𝗹𝘶si𝗏𝘦 𝘯𝗈𝘷𝖾𝘭𝘀 𝗈𝗻 be.𝗰о𝗺
“Leave us,” Lucian said.
Bianca shot Skye a look of pure venom before turning and clicking her way back up the stairs.
Lucian approached the cage. He crouched down, bringing his face level with Skye’s.
“Do you know why you are here, Skye?” he asked gently.
Skye reached through the bars, her hand trembling, grasping at the cuff of his trousers.
“The powder,” she whispered. “I’ll be good. I promise p>
Lucian smiled. It was a genuine smile, which made it all the more terrifying. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of white powder. He held it just out of her reach.
“Patience,” he whispered. “We have all the time in the world p>
Miles away, in a nondescript warehouse on the outskirts of Oakhaven, the air was thick with tension.
Alistair Thorne stood before a wall of monitors. His tuxedo jacket was gone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked like a man who had been carving stone with his bare hands.
