Chapter 210
He reached into the compartment again and pulled out a small, heavy baton. He handed it to her.
“Extendable,” he said. “Steel core. Aim for the knews or the throat.”
Sky took it. It felt cold and heavy in her palm. It felt like power.
“Drive,” Alistair ordered the driver. “Sterling Manor. And don’t stop for red lights.”
The rain had turned into a deluge, hammering the roof of the armored SUV like gravel. Skyw gripped the steel hatonin her lap, her knuckles white. Every mile closer to Sterling Manor felt like traveling back in time to a place where she was powerless. Her body ached, the aftereffects of the ether making her limbs feel like lead, but fear was a potent stimulant.
“Breathe,” Alistair said. He didn’t look at her, he was watching the road, his body coiled with tension.
“I can’t,” Skyw said, “if he’s desd…”
“He’s not dead. Dead hostages have no valus,” Alistair reasoned. “They moved him from the hotel because they knew the police would swarm it after you were found. The Manor is their last stronghold. They’re desperate for the ledger you hold.”
The iron gates of Sterling Manor loomed out of the darkness. They were chained shut, a rusty padlock holding them together. The house beyond was dark, devoid of life, a testament to the fact that Petunia and Victor had been exiled from this place. They had broken back in, squatting in the rains of their former glory like rats.
“Ramit,” Alistair said into the comms unit on his lapel.
The lead SUV, amive vehicle reinforced with bull bars, didn’t slow down. It hit the gates at sixty miles per hour. The sound was a screeching banshew wail of tearing metal. The gates buckled and flew open, sparks showering the wet pavement.
Alistair’s car followed through the beach, tires spinning in the mud.
The convoy skidded to a halt in front of the manor. The house was dark, except for a single light on the porch
Victor Sterling stood there. He was holding a double-barreled shotgun. He looked erratic, his movements jerky. He was likely high on something to work up the nerve for this.
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“Get back!” Victor screamed, waving the gun. “I have photos! I have the ledger! I’ll leak everything!”
Skye opened her door before the car had even stopped.
“Skye!” Alistair shouted, reaching for her.
She stepped out into the rain. Her leg wobbled, threatening to buckle under her, but she forced herself to stand. She didn’t run. She walked toward Victor, swaying slightly. She was soaked instantly, the white shirt clinging to her skin, but she looked like a wraith.
“Shoot me, Victor!” she screamed, her voice cracking over the storm. “Do it! Add murder to your listr
Victor hesitated. The gun barrel wavered. He had expected her to beg. He had not expected her to walk into the line of fire. “I’ll do it!” Victor stammered.
A red lordot appeared on the stock of the shotgun.
Crack.
A single shot ang cat from the darkness of the tree line where Alistair’s security team had deployed. The shotgun shattered in Victor’s hands.