Chapter 81
Emily Windsor's POV
Jacob no longer looked at Lawrence. Instead, he turned toward me, his eyes brimming with remorse and desperation. He shuffled forward on his knees across the frigid floor, crawling to my feet.
"Emily, I'm sorry, I was so wrong..." he sobbed, his forehead pressed against the cold ground as he repeated his confession over and over. "I shouldn't have been jealous of you, shouldn't have hurt you. I don't ask for your forgiveness, I just beg you... please, ask Mr. Victor to give me one chance. I don't want to die..."
I stared down at his abject figure, groveling in the dust, and a complicated mix of emotions churned inside me.
The hatred was still there, but more than that, I felt a helpless sort of sadness. He was hateful, yes, but also pitiful.
I turned to look at Luke, whose eyes still gleamed with murderous intent.
I knew him. To eliminate threats permanently, he was capable of anything.
"Luke," I tugged gently at his sleeve, my voice hoarse, "give him a chance."
Luke's gaze fell on my face, and that glacial killing edge instantly melted into tenderness. He studied me in silence for several seconds before finally nodding.
Jacob was dragged away by two bodyguards. Lawrence and his people were likewise taken into custody.
It turned out this yacht had long ago been staffed entirely by Luke's men. The stage Lawrence thought he'd controlled had been, from the very beginning, a cage Luke built for him.
Music from the banquet hall drifted faintly through the air, as though the bloody spectacle moments ago had never occurred. Luke bent down and scooped me up into his arms again, striding purposefully toward the lounge.
"Your plan..." I murmured against his chest, worry creeping into my voice. "Did I... ruin everything?"
Luke's stride faltered. He held me tighter and looked down at me, his eyes filled with heartache and self-reproach.
"It's my fault," he said in a low voice edged with barely perceptible tremor. "I didn't anticipate Lawrence would be this insane. I put you in danger."
Warm breath brushed across my cheek, and I couldn't hold back any longer. I buried my face in his solid chest and clung to his neck.
Delayed terror crashed over me like a tidal wave, submerging me completely. My body began to shake uncontrollably, and tears I'd suppressed for so long finally broke free.
Luke felt my trembling. He stopped walking and simply stood there, holding me, letting my tears soak through his expensive shirt.
After a long while, he lowered his head and gently kissed away the tears on my cheeks. That kiss carried comfort, and also guilt.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, pressing my head against his heart so I could hear its steady, powerful beat. "I promise, never again."
In his arms, I finally exhausted my last reserves of strength and fell into a deep sleep.
The spectacle saturated with blood and conspiracy, along with all that belated terror, was shut out by his steady heartbeat and warm embrace.
It was the most peaceful sleep I'd had in a long time.
Luke moved carefully when he left. I only vaguely sensed, in my drowsy haze, a burning kiss pressed to my forehead.
When I woke again, it was the cold that roused me—a deep, penetrating chill.
Impenetrable darkness surrounded me. Even the last sliver of moonlight outside had been devoured by thick clouds.
The room was pitch black and silent enough to hear the flow of blood through my veins.
Instinctively, I reached for my phone on the nightstand, wanting to check the time and contact Luke. My fingers found only a pile of cold, shattered fragments.
Jacob had smashed my phone.
A sourceless panic seized me.
I fumbled my way out of bed, my bare feet touching the icy floor, and groped toward the door using memory alone.
I needed to find Luke. Only by his side did I feel safe.
The moment my hand touched the doorknob, a thick metallic scent invaded my nostrils with brutal force.
The smell was too familiar—so familiar my stomach instantly roiled, forcing me to bend over and retch.
It was the smell of blood.
I forced myself to calm down, braced myself against the wall, and slowly pushed the door open.
The corridor outside was equally pitch black, lit only by the ghostly green glow of an emergency exit sign in the distance.
The metallic stench was stronger here, as if it seeped from every corner of the ship.
'Something's happened.'
The thought surfaced with chilling clarity. My heart hammered wildly as I quickened my pace.
I hadn't gone far when my foot caught on something soft. I lost my balance and pitched forward.
My palm landed in a patch of cold, viscous liquid. I instinctively recoiled and pushed myself upright, bracing against the floor.
Just then, a sliver of pale moonlight pierced the cloud cover and slanted through a porthole in the corridor.
In that fleeting illumination, I saw what had tripped me.
A man in a crew uniform lay sprawled on the floor, eyes wide open, his face frozen in an expression of extreme terror. A pool of dark red blood spread beneath him.
I nearly screamed aloud but managed to clamp my hand over my mouth at the last second.
I scrambled to my feet, half-crawling, half-stumbling, and ran forward recklessly.
Terror wrapped around me like countless icy hands from all directions, freezing me to the core until my blood felt ready to congeal.
I rounded a corner, and another corpse appeared without warning.
My whole body trembled. I had to lean against the wall just to stay upright.
I forced my eyes to adjust to the darkness, only to discover with horror that this corridor leading to the banquet hall was littered with bodies—crew members and black-suited bodyguards alike, sprawled haphazardly across the floor.
This place had become a tomb.
'Luke!'
'Where is Luke?'
A terrible thought nearly suffocated me. I could no longer bear the fear. Clutching my dress, I stepped over sticky pools of blood and ran frantically toward the ballroom.
The heavy carved wooden doors stood ajar. I shoved them open with all my strength.
The scene inside was even more brutal than I'd imagined. The opulent crystal chandeliers had gone dark. The entire hall was a scene of devastation—overturned tables and chairs, shattered glasses, food and blood mingled together, emitting a nauseating odor.
And those guests who'd been laughing and chatting elegantly not long ago had all become sacrifices in this massacre, lying silently in pools of blood. Not a single survivor.
Like a wandering ghost, I wove through this living hell, searching and calling his name over and over, but only deathly silence answered me.
He wasn't here.
Luke wasn't here.
I breathed a faint sigh of relief, only to be immediately swallowed by even greater panic.
Where had he gone? Was he also...
I didn't dare finish the thought. I turned and stumbled back the way I'd come. I had to get back—back to our room, the only safe place.
When I circled back to the lounge door, my steps abruptly halted.
The door had somehow been closed. A faint light seeped through the crack beneath it.