Chapter 851
Travis jumped, shoving his hands into his pockets. He emerged from the study looking flushed. “Skye! You’re back early.”
“We have a surprise,” Skye said, hooking her arm through his. “Tonight, we’re having a little party — a card game. It’s a tradition before a big operation. You play, don’t you?”
Travis blinked. “Uh… a little?”
“Great,” Skye beamed. “Bring your wallet. Or your dignity. You’ll lose one of them.”
“I’d love to,” Travis said, forcing a smile.
On the car ride back to Oracle, the atmosphere between them shifted.
“I don’t like how Julian looks at you,” Alistair said, gripping the steering wheel.
Skye looked at him, surprised. “What?”
𝗔𝖽𝗱𝗂c𝗍𝗶𝘃𝖾 𝗻ov𝘦𝘭ѕ 𝘰ո 𝗀𝖺lո𝗼𝘷𝘦ls.𝗰𝘰𝘮
“He looks at you like you’re the only puzzle he can’t solve,” Alistair grumbled. “And he likes puzzles.”
“He’s a friend, Alistair. And he’s sick. Cut him some slack.”
“He’s dangerous,” Alistair said. “Just because he’s on our side right now doesn’t mean he’s tame.”
“None of us are tame,” Skye said softly, placing her hand on his knee. “That’s why we win.”
The library on the ground floor of the Vance Estate was a sanctuary of dark wood and green felt. Rain lashed against the windows, a stark reminder of the chaos outside. In the center of the room, a mahogany poker table sat beneath a low-hanging lamp.
The clatter of chips was sharp and rhythmic.
Skye sat at the south position. Julian was west. Alistair was north. Travis was east.
Travis looked like he was about to be sick. He kept glancing at his watch.
“Your bet, Travis,” Skye said, tossing a red chip into the pot.
“Right,” Travis fumbled, checking his cards. His hands were shaking.
“You seem nervous,” Julian observed, lazily stacking his chips. “Worried about the stakes?”
“Just… not used to playing with the big dogs,” Travis muttered.
“Don’t worry,” Skye said, her eyes locking onto his. “It’s a psychological game. It’s all about knowing what your opponent is hiding.”
Travis dropped his cards. “I need to use the restroom.”
“Go ahead,” Skye said. “Don’t take too long.”
Travis practically ran to the bathroom.
The moment the door clicked shut, Skye’s demeanor shifted entirely. She glanced at Alistair. He nodded and pulled a small black device from his pocket — a signal jammer — and switched it on.
Inside the bathroom, Travis locked the door and pulled out his phone. He opened the encrypted app and attached the photographs of the “Top Secret” file. He hit send.
Sending… 10%… 20%…
The bar stopped at ninety-nine percent.
Connection Error.
“No, no, no,” Travis whispered, tapping the screen frantically. “Come on!” He held the phone up toward the ceiling, searching for a signal. Nothing.
The door handle jiggled. Then, with a decisive click, the lock disengaged.
Travis spun around.
Alistair filled the doorframe, his face a mask of cold fury, the jammer held loosely in one hand.
“Looking for a signal?” Alistair asked.
Travis backed up until his legs hit the edge of the bathtub. “I was just checking my email.”
“Drop the phone,” Alistair ordered.