Chapter 745
Chapter 745:
“Soon,” Liam whispered to himself. “Soon it will be over p>
He turned and vanished into the night, leaving only a rustle of leaves behind.
The wedding day dawned beneath a sky the color of a bruise. Thunder rumbled in the distance, promising a storm.
The cathedral was packed. Sea City’s elite had turned out in droves, eager to witness the union of the Oracle Queen and the Thorne Prince. They didn’t know they were extras in an operation.
Skye stood in the vestibule. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Under her wedding dress, strapped to her thigh, was a Glock.
“Ready?” Julian asked. He stood beside her, leaning on a cane—but standing. He looked magnificent in his tuxedo.
“Ready,” Skye said.
The organ music swelled. The doors opened.
Skye walked down the aisle.
Flashbulbs popped. Heads turned.
She saw Alistair at the altar. He smiled, a genuine, reassuring smile.
She saw Beatrice in the front row, looking like she had swallowed a lemon.
She didn’t see Liam. She prayed he was there.
“Target sighted,” Parker’s voice crackled in her hidden earpiece. “North balcony. Cleanup crew. He has a violin case p>
“I see him,” a distorted voice cut into the channel. It was Liam.
He wasn’t using his own frequency.
Skye kept walking. She had to keep the target’s attention.
She reached the altar. Alistair took her hand.
“Dearly beloved,” the priest began.
“He’s assembling the weapon,” Parker said. “Skye, you are in the line of fire p>
𝘠𝗈𝘂r 𝘥i𝘨𝗂𝗍а𝘭 𝘭i𝗯ra𝘳𝗒 о𝗇 𝘣𝗲lո𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗹s.сo𝗆
“Wait,” Liam’s voice ordered. “I need clear confirmation p>
“Are you crazy?” Alistair whispered to Skye. “Duck p>
“No,” Skye whispered back, squeezing his hand. “Trust Liam p>
Up in the balcony, the assassin raised the rifle. He centered the crosshairs on Skye’s back.
The door behind him opened silently.
Liam stepped out. He was dressed in black tactical gear, his face completely covered by a balaclava. He couldn’t risk being seen—not even for a second.
The assassin sensed him and spun around.
Liam moved. It was a blur of violence. He disarmed the man, slamming him against the wall. The rifle clattered to the floor.
They fought—silent, brutal.
The assassin pulled a knife. He slashed Liam’s arm.
Liam didn’t flinch. He blocked the strike, twisted the man’s wrist, and drove him to the floor.
The assassin looked up, his eyes widening in recognition as he stared into the holes of Liam’s mask. He opened his mouth to shout.
Liam didn’t hesitate. He twisted the man’s neck with a sickening crunch. There could be no witnesses. If this man lived to report back to the Syndicate, Liam’s cover—and Skye’s life—would be over.