Chapter 677
Chapter 677:
He adjusted his glasses, checked the knife concealed in his boot, and stepped out of the shadows.
The bass line of the music thumped against Liam’s ribcage, syncing with his own heartbeat. He moved through the crowd not as a guest, but as a predator in camouflage.
The “Preston” persona—the slouch, the vacant stare—evaporated the moment he stepped into the dimly lit hallway leading to the restroom.
Two of Dominic’s men were there. One was guarding the door; the other was checking the stalls.
Liam stumbled, feigning a drunken trip. “Whoa, sorry, dudes,” he slurred through his raspy affectation, crashing into the guard at the door.
“Watch it, kid,” the guard grunted, shoving him back.
Liam used the momentum of the shove. He spun, grabbing the guard’s wrist and twisting sharply until the bone snapped with a wet crunch. Before the man could scream, Liam drove his elbow into his throat, collapsing his windpipe. The guard dropped silently, clutching his neck.
The second man turned, reaching for his jacket. Liam didn’t give him the chance. He closed the distance in a single stride, slamming the man’s head into the tiled wall. The man slid down, unconscious.
Liam dragged them both into a stall and locked it.
Thirty seconds. Efficient. Brutal.
He wiped his hands on his hoodie and rushed back to the main room.
His blood ran cold.
The booth was empty.
Skye’s drink was half-full. Victoria’s coat was gone. There was no note. No struggle. Just an empty table that screamed of a professional extraction.
Skye hadn’t been lured by a fake summons. She wasn’t that naive.
Liam scanned the floor and saw a small, shattered glass near the leg of the table.
𝖱e𝖼𝘰𝘮𝗆e𝗻𝖽 𝖻𝗲𝘭𝗻𝘰𝘃е𝘭s.c𝘰𝗺 𝗍о у𝗈𝘶𝗋 𝗳𝗿𝘪e𝘯𝘥ѕ
Alistair’s internal security team. The ones with the gold lapel pins. He had seen two of them flanking the booth earlier, assuming they were standard protection.
But if Dominic had turned Alistair’s own men…
“Mr. Thorne requests your presence in the secure wing immediately,” the head of security had said, leaning in close to Skye. “Threat assessment. We’ve detected a breach p>
Skye had nodded, professional and alert. She had signaled to Victoria to follow. She wouldn’t have questioned Alistair’s own praetorian guard inside his own fortress. She had walked willingly into the trap, believing she was being moved to safety.
“Dammit,” Liam hissed.
They had used the one thing she trusted—Alistair’s seal—against her.
He sprinted for the exit.
In the back of an unmarked black van speeding toward the industrial docks, the air was thick with the smell of stale smoke and fear.
Skye sat on the metal bench, her hands cuffed behind her back. Next to her, Victoria was hyperventilating, her mascara running down her cheeks.
“I don’t understand!” Victoria wailed. “That was the head of security! He has a pension! Why would he kidnap us p>