Chapter 84
Emily Windsor's POV
The sound of Jacob pounding on the door grew fainter behind me, until it was swallowed entirely by the endless darkness.
I paid it no mind. My heart, which had been hammering wildly in my chest with fear, settled into an eerie calm the moment I made my decision.
Yes, all the evidence pointed to Luke.
But my rationality, my instincts, my professional ability as a lawyer who'd dissected countless human psyches—everything was telling me this wasn't so simple.
And Jacob. His seemingly ironclad testimony was riddled with holes.
He'd only heard the begging, heard Luke's name, but knew nothing about the actual massacre.
Between a story full of gaps and the man lying unconscious below, I chose to believe the man.
The man who'd lost control to the point of breaking his own rules for me.
He was gravely ill, burning with fever. I needed to find medicine and first aid supplies.
Following my memory, I headed toward the ship's infirmary. This path, too, was littered with bodies and congealed blood.
Just as I rounded a corner, nearing the infirmary, a crimson glow suddenly flared in the darkness ahead.
My feet stopped dead. Every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze.
In that glow, a tall figure leaned casually against the wall, smoking a cigar with deliberate leisure.
Behind him, several black-suited bodyguards stood like silent wraiths, their clothes spotless—utterly out of place in this blood-soaked hell.
The figure slowly lifted his head, flashing me a smile dripping with malicious amusement.
Lawrence.
The blood in my veins turned to ice.
Almost on instinct, I jerked backward, ducking into a half-open storage room beside me. I pressed myself flat against the cold door, holding my breath.
My heart was slamming against my ribs so hard I thought they'd shatter.
Lawrence was alive.
Which meant this massacre...
I couldn't let myself finish that thought. A bone-deep chill crawled from my feet to the crown of my head.
Those unhurried footsteps drew closer and closer, finally stopping right outside the storage room where I hid.
Through the crack in the door, I could see his polished leather shoes, and behind them, the ghostly silent bodyguards.
"Miss Windsor," Lawrence's voice carried a note of pleased amusement, lazily filling the air. "This game of hide-and-seek is over."
My heart plummeted.
The next second, the storage room door was yanked open. Blinding flashlight beams engulfed me.
I instinctively raised my hand to shield my eyes. Before I could react, two black-suited men grabbed my arms and dragged me out roughly.
I was forced to my knees before Lawrence, the icy floor biting painfully into my kneecaps.
He crouched down, using his still-burning cigar to lift my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.
That handsome face wore the expression of a cat toying with a mouse.
"Where's Luke?" He exhaled a smoke ring that drifted across my face with its acrid smell. "Where are you hiding him?"
I jerked my head away in disgust, avoiding his touch. My lips pressed into a tight line. I didn't say a word.
"Not talking?" Lawrence chuckled softly, seeming unsurprised.
He stood, looking down at me from above, his tone dripping with mockery. "Emily, surely you don't still think he's innocent? Look at all these bodies. This is the grandest sacrifice he's prepared for you."
"Shut up!" I finally snapped, glaring up at him with pure hatred blazing in my eyes. "You're the monster here!"
"Me?" Lawrence laughed as if I'd told the world's funniest joke. "I don't have the ability to turn a ship into hell in such a short time. Only a madman like Luke, with filth running through his veins, could pull off something like this."
I laughed coldly, each word edged with ice. "Between a delirious, feverish man and you standing here unscathed, I know who I'd bet on."
My words wiped the smile from his face.
"I see you won't cry until you see the coffin." He pulled out a tablet from his pocket, tapped open a video, and tossed it into the pool of blood at my feet.
The screen lit up with shaky but clear surveillance footage.
In the frame, Luke stood in the center of the ballroom. His face was expressionless, his eyes hollow—like a soulless shell.
He raised his arm mechanically, firing shot after shot at the terrified guests begging for mercy.
Blood and screams became the most horrifying backdrop to that silent video.
My pupils contracted sharply. My nails dug deep into my palms.
"Well?" Lawrence savored the color draining from my face with evident satisfaction. "Is this evidence enough to wake you up?"
"It's fake." I spoke almost immediately, my voice trembling with emotion but my tone unnervingly firm. "How hard would it be to fabricate something like this?"
Lawrence's smile vanished completely, replaced by something close to pitying contempt.
"Emily, you're a hopeless fool." He shook his head as if disappointed by my stupid loyalty. "You actually still think he's innocent?"
I opened my mouth, ready to argue, rebuttals churning in my mind. But meeting Lawrence's all-knowing gaze, I suddenly lost my voice.
It was useless.
Arguing with him was pointless.
He wasn't a judge. This wasn't a courtroom.
He didn't want the truth. He wanted to watch my faith crumble and savor my agony.
I slowly lowered my eyes, swallowing every word, choosing silence instead.
My silence seemed to bore him.
He lost patience, jerking his chin at the bodyguards behind him.
They immediately stepped forward, hauling me back to my feet.
"Take us to him." Lawrence's voice turned cold, brooking no argument.
I stood rooted to the spot, my feet feeling like they were filled with lead. This passive resistance was all I had left.
Lawrence's patience finally ran out.
He pulled a gun from one of the bodyguards' holsters. The cold barrel pressed against my temple.
"I'm asking you one last time. Where is he?"
Death's threat was inches away, yet I felt no fear. Only absurdity.
Lawrence seemed to read something in my calm eyes. He frowned slightly, genuine confusion flickering in his gaze. Suddenly, he appeared to lose interest in this bloody game, shifting his curiosity toward me instead.
"I truly don't understand," he said, lowering the gun but using it to tap my cheek in an insulting rhythm. "What is it about Luke that's bewitched a smart woman like you into this state?"