Chapter 992
“The Administrator dislikes a short game,” he murmured. “And he dislikes a messy board. I cleared the murder charge for you. Consider it a gift.”
“I don’t want your gifts,” Skye hissed.
“You want this one,” Lucian said. He pressed a small, folded piece of paper into her hand. “He’s testing you, Skye. He wants to see if you can find the real inheritance before the imposter does.”
“What is this?” Skye looked at the paper.
“Coordinates,” Lucian said. “Arthur hid something. Something real. Not a birdcage, not a painting — the source.”
“Why give it to me?”
с𝗵i𝘯𝗲𝘀𝖾 𝗻𝘰𝘷е𝗹𝘀 𝘵r𝘢𝗻𝘴𝗹𝗮𝗍𝖾𝘥 o𝘯 𝗀𝘢𝗅n𝗼𝘷е𝗹𝘀.𝗰𝗼𝗆
Lucian smiled, and for a moment he looked almost human. Almost.
“Because if Gemma finds it, she’ll sell it for handbags. If you find it, you might actually understand what you’re fighting.”
He walked away, disappearing into the crowd.
Skye unfolded the paper.
34.22 N, 118.56 W. Elevation 2000 ft.
She looked at Alistair. “Where is this?”
Alistair studied the numbers. “Deep in the mountains. Near the Vance family estate. It’s a dead zone. They call it Dead Man’s Peak.”
Skye crushed the paper in her fist.
“Then that’s where we’re going.”
The war room at Oracle was bathed in the blue light of monitors. The hum of servers was the only sound as Parker Hayes typed coordinates into the satellite mapping system.
“Dead Man’s Peak,” Parker said, spinning his chair around. “It’s aptly named. No cell service. No roads. Just dense forest and sheer cliffs. It’s technically Vance land, but it’s been untouched for fifty years.”
Skye stared at the topographic map on the screen. The red dot pulsed in a ravine that looked like a scar carved into the earth.
“If Lucian gave me this, it’s a trap,” Skye said. “But if I don’t go, I fail the test.”
“It’s definitely a trap,” Alistair said, leaning against the doorframe and cleaning his gun. “But traps are just puzzles with teeth. We go in heavy — thermal optics, drones, the works.”
“Wait,” Parker said. “Look at the social media chatter.”
He pulled up a new window. A fresh Sterling Charity Foundation page was live, accepting donations to “help lost children find their way home,” with Gemma’s tearful face as the banner. The comments were flooded with support from the conspiracy fringe, money pouring in through untraceable crypto wallets.
“She’s grifting,” Skye said, disgust sharpening her voice. “She’s using Arthur’s death and her victimhood to cash out before we expose her completely.”
The elevator chimed.
Liam Kensington walked onto the floor. He had no appointment, no security clearance. The guards outside looked flustered — clearly overruled by someone wielding significant leverage. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.
“Don’t go,” Liam said. No greeting. No preamble.
Skye turned. “Excuse me?”
“The coordinates,” Liam said, crossing to the table. “Don’t go to Dead Man’s Peak.”
A spike of adrenaline moved through her. “How do you know about the coordinates? Lucian gave me that paper two hours ago.”
.
.