Chapter 120
Chapter 120:
The sense of déjà vu was driving him mad. He knew that movement. He knew that presence.
“Morgan!” Liam shouted.
But the figure had already disappeared into the crowd.
Liam ignored the wine soaking into his Italian leather shoe. His eyes were fixed on the velvet curtains swaying in Morgan’s wake.
“Security!” Liam barked into his lapel mic. “Follow the man in the blue suit. Don’t let him leave the grounds p>
He pushed past Alistair, shouldering him roughly. Alistair didn’t budge, standing like a statue, blocking the narrow path for just a second too long.
“Move, Thorne,” Liam snarled.
“Watch your step, Kensington,” Alistair replied coolly.
By the time Liam got around him, Skye had a ten-second head start.
Skye sprinted down the service corridor. She didn’t run with her usual grace; her ankle throbbed with every step, forcing her into a fast, limping lope. She tore at the collar of her shirt, ripping the voice modulator off and shoving it into her pocket. She ducked into a small changing room designated for the entertainment staff.
Harper was waiting there, holding a red dress.
“He’s coming,” Skye gasped.
She ripped the wig off, her own long, honey-colored hair tumbling down. She tore at the binding, wincing as the tape pulled at her skin.
“Two minutes,” Harper said, unzipping the red dress. “Turn around p>
Skye stepped out of the suit and into the dress. It was slinky, backless—completely different from the structured suit. Harper wiped the contouring makeup off Skye’s jawline with a wet wipe, scrubbing hard.
“Go,” Harper whispered. “Out the window. Ethan is waiting p>
Skye climbed out the window just as the doorknob rattled.
No pі𝗿а𝖼𝘺 𝗋𝘦аd on 𝖻𝘦lոоv𝗲l𝘀.𝖼о𝗆
Liam kicked the door open.
The room was empty. A blue suit lay in a heap on the floor. A wig sat on the vanity block, staring back at him mockingly. The air smelled of makeup remover and that same smoky cologne, fading now.
Liam ran to the window. The curtains fluttered in the night breeze. He looked out. He saw taillights fading down the driveway.
“Damnit!” Liam punched the wall. His cane clattered to the floor as he leaned against the window frame, gasping for breath, his leg throbbing in protest.
He paced the small room. Morgan had fled. Morgan was hiding something. Was it a deformity? A criminal record? Or…
He couldn’t shake the feeling of Skye. The flinch. The laugh.
But Skye was a woman. Morgan was a man. It was impossible. He was losing his mind. The stress was making him hallucinate.
He needed to ground himself. He needed to prove to himself that Skye was Skye and Morgan was Morgan.
He pulled out his phone. His hands were shaking. He dialed Skye’s personal number. He hadn’t called it since she blocked him, but he used a burner phone he kept for emergencies.