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Chapter 871
“I’m not going to hurt her,” Liam said. “I’m here to surrender. I can’t trust my own mind anymore.”
His legs gave way. He sank to his knees on the wet concrete of the pier, looking up at Skye with eyes that had already made their peace.
“Lock me up, Skye,” he said. “Before they turn me into a weapon.”
The secure medical wing in the basement of the Vance Estate was sterile and cold. Liam sat on the cot with his head in his hands.
Skye watched him from the observation deck.
“He’s telling the truth,” Julian said, studying the brain scans on the monitor. “The implant is similar to Parker’s, but more invasive. It’s woven into his limbic system — designed to manipulate emotions and force compliance through pain.”
“He fought it,” Skye said softly. “He came to us.”
“That takes a will of iron,” Alistair admitted. “I hate him. But I respect that.”
“What do we do?” Felix asked.
“We find the surgeon,” Skye said. “The one who put these things in. We cut them out.”
𝘙𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘴.𝘤𝘰𝘮
“And the Syndicate?”
“We hunt them.” Skye turned to face the team. “We have the stones. We have Dominic. We have the map. The war for Sea City is over. The war for our souls has just begun.”
She looked at the screen. The signal from the second submarine was tracking steadily north.
“Where is it going?” Skye asked.
“Haven City,” Julian said. “The city of exiles. No extradition. No laws.”
“Then that’s where we go,” Skye said. “Pack your bags. We’re moving the headquarters.”
“To Haven City?” Alistair raised an eyebrow. “That’s a war zone.”
“Perfect,” Skye said, a cold smile crossing her lips. “We’ll fit right in.”
She pressed her hand to the glass and looked at Liam one last time.
“I’ll save you, Liam,” she whispered. “Even if I have to burn the world down to do it.”
She turned and walked away, her heels clicking on the floor like the ticking of a clock. The game had changed. And Skye Sterling was done playing defense.
The air in Haven City tasted like copper and old rain — a heavy, suffocating scent that clung to the back of Skye’s throat the moment she stepped out of the armored SUV. This wasn’t Sea City. There were no gleaming glass towers here, no illusions of order. The streets were narrow, the buildings hunched together like conspirators, and the neon signs flickered with a desperate, erratic rhythm.
“Welcome to the edge of the world,” Alistair said, his voice low. He scanned the perimeter, his hand resting casually — too casually — near the waistband of his trousers.
