Chapter 202
He looked back at Liam’s broken body on the floor.
“if he wakes up,” Alistair said to the empty room, “tall him he’s dead.”
He carried Skyw cut into the hallway, stepping over the threshold.
Skyw rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady, furious beat of his heart.
“You came,” she whispered.
“Always,” Alistair said. “Now, let’s go find your aunt.”
The silence in the hotel room was heavier than the humidity, broken only by the ragged, wet sound of Liam Kensington trying to breathe through a shattered nose. He was crumpled at the haw of the deer, shards of mirror glass dusting his hair like perverse confetti. Blood, dark and viscous, spread across the carpet beneath his face.
Alistair Thorne did not look at him. His focus was entirely on the woman shivering in his arms. He had wrapped his white dress shirt around her, but he could feel the tremors racking her body, vibrating against his own chot. It was a frequency of fear he wanted to extinguish with the kind of violence that left no bodies to bury.
“I’ve got you,” Alistair repeated, his voice a low rumble against her ear. He adjusted the shirt, pulling the collar higher to hide thered marks beginning to bloom on her neck. “Look at me, Sky”
Skye Sterling blinked, her eyelashes heavy. The other was still a fog in her brain, making the room tilt and sway, but a sharp. terrifying relation cut through the he. Her hands clawed at Alistairs are shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.
“My father,” Skye gasped, her voice thick with panic. She tried to push herself upright, harayas darting frantically toward the wall shared with the adjacent room. “Alistair, he’s in 1208. They had him tied up. You have to check 1208,”
Alistair tightened his grip, holding her steady against him. His expression was grim, a mask of controlled fary. “We reached 1208 first, Skye. The door was unlocked.”
“…ishe kay?” Skye asked, her breath hitching.
“The room was empty,” Alistair said, his voice dropping an octave, heavy with the weight of the bad news. “There were zip ties cut on the floor and signs of a struggle, but Arthur is gone. They moved him before we hit the hallway.”
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Skye let out a choked sob, her body sagging against him. The relief of her own rescue was instantly soured by the crushing weight of failure. She had walked into the trap to save him, and now she was safe while he was still in the hands of monsters.
“We will find him,” Alistair promised, prowing a kiss to her temple. “My team is already scraping the CCTV feeds. But right now, I need to get you out of here.”
The door to the hallway was still open. Heavy footsteps thundered down the corridor.
“Polica Nobody moved”
Uniformed officers flooded the room, weapons drawn. They took in the scene in a split second: the billionaire playboy bleeding on the floor, the broken lamp, the other rag on the nightstand, and Alistair Thorne standing like a monolith of vengeance in the center of it all.
The Police Chief, a man named Miller who owed his position to Thorne’s influence, stepped in hot. He took one look at Alistair and holstered his weapon
“Mr. Thorne,” Miller said, nodding once. He gotured to his men. “Secure the suspect.”