Chapter 679
Chapter 679:
It was a lie. A glorious, desperate lie. But greed was the Thorne family vice.
Dominic turned slowly. “You’re lying p>
“Am I?” Skye met his gaze. “I found his personal ledger. The Black Book. You know he keeps one. I know where the bodies are buried, Dominic, and I know where the gold is. Five hundred million. Untraceable. Think about it p>
Dominic hesitated. The gun lowered slightly.
High above them, perched on a rusted catwalk shrouded in darkness, a shadow moved.
Liam Kensington lay prone on the metal grate. He had shed the “Preston” hoodie, revealing the tactical vest he wore underneath. He reached into the duffel bag he had retrieved from the trunk of the car, his go-bag that he never traveled without since Skye’s return. He assembled the takedown sniper rifle with practiced ease.
He pressed his eye to the scope. The crosshairs settled on Dominic’s head.
His breathing slowed.
In. Out.
He couldn’t shoot yet. Too many guards. If he dropped Dominic, the others would open fire on Skye instantly.
He needed a distraction. He needed chaos.
He watched Skye talking, her chin lifted in defiance.
She was buying him time.
Smart girl, he thought. Just hold on a little longer.
“Five hundred million,” Dominic repeated, the number rolling off his tongue like a prayer.
He walked closer to Skye, invading her personal space. “If you’re lying, I’ll peel the skin off your face p>
“I’m not lying,” Skye said, her eyes boring into his. “But I can’t give you the codes with my hands tied. And I need a computer p>
Dominic signaled to one of his men. “Get the laptop p>
𝘑𝘰𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦.𝘤𝘰𝘮
The guard approached, unlocking Skye’s right wrist. She rubbed the chafed skin, her mind calculating the angles. The laptop was placed on a crate in front of her.
“Type,” Dominic ordered. “And don’t try anything clever. Bianca is watching you p>
Bianca hobbled closer, the knife gleaming in the dim light. She was twitchy, unstable. “Just kill her, Dominic! She’s stalling p>
“Quiet!” Dominic roared. “That money buys us an army p>
Skye began to type. She wasn’t entering bank codes. She was entering a sequence into the Oracle emergency override system. It wouldn’t transfer money, but it would trigger a silent alarm that broadcast her exact GPS coordinates to every device linked to the Oracle network, including Alistair’s phone.
Click. Clack. Click.
Suddenly, Dominic’s phone rang, a shrill, jarring sound in the quiet warehouse.
He frowned, pulling it out. Unknown number.
“Who is this?” he barked.
“Look up,” a voice said.
It was deep, cold, and heavily modulated by an electronic distortion filter—a sound stripped of all humanity.