Chapter 682
Chapter 682:
The bullet didn’t kill Dominic. It struck his right hand, the one holding the gun.
Dominic screamed, a high-pitched sound of agony. His pistol clattered to the floor. His hand was a ruin of blood and shattered bone.
Alistair didn’t wait. He vaulted over the hood of the Hummer, sprinting across the gap. He hit Dominic like a freight train, a flying knee driving into Dominic’s chest.
Dominic flew backward, slamming into the corrugated wall and sliding down, gasping for air.
Skye scrambled for the dropped gun. She picked it up, spinning around just as Bianca tried to rise from the debris of the light fixture.
Skye leveled the gun at Bianca’s chest.
“Don’t,” Skye said. Her voice was ice.
Bianca froze, looking at the gun, then at Skye’s eyes. She saw no hesitation there. She dropped the knife.
“I surrender! Don’t shoot p>
High above, a cable whirred.
Liam, wearing a full tactical mask and black gear, rappelled down from the catwalk. He landed silently between Alistair and Dominic.
He walked over to Dominic, who was clutching his mangled hand and moaning. Liam placed a heavy boot on Dominic’s chest, pressing down until the moaning stopped.
He leaned down, the mask hiding his face, but his eyes burned with a terrifying intensity.
“You touched her,” the modulated voice growled, a harsh, metallic rasp that sounded nothing like Preston’s wheeze. “You shouldn’t have done that p>
He drew back his foot and kicked Dominic in the jaw. Dominic went limp.
Silence fell over the warehouse.
Alistair stood up, adjusting his suit jacket, breathing hard. He looked at the masked figure. He didn’t ask who it was. He recognized the stance, the efficiency, the brutality.
𝗕𝘳o𝘸𝘀e 𝗯𝗒 cаt𝖾𝘨о𝘳𝗒 𝗈ո 𝖻e𝗅𝘯o𝘃е𝘭ѕ.co𝗆
“You’re late,” Alistair said, wiping dust from his lapel.
Liam straightened. He looked at Skye, checking her for injuries. He didn’t speak. He just nodded once to Alistair.
Skye lowered the gun. She looked at the masked man—the height, the shoulders, the way he stood.
She knew.
“He’s a friend,” Skye said softly.
The sirens were getting closer now. Real police, this time.
Alistair looked between Skye and the masked mercenary. He was too smart not to see the connection, the silent communication passing between them. But he was also smart enough to know when to keep his mouth shut.
“You should go,” Alistair said to the masked man. “The police will want statements. Unlicensed vigilantes tend to complicate things p>
Liam—”Nero”—didn’t argue. He turned and ran toward the back of the warehouse, disappearing into the shadows just as the first police cruiser screeched into the lot outside.
Victoria was sitting on the floor, hugging her knees, shivering violently. Skye walked over and knelt beside her.