Chapter 739 The Desperate Escape
Wyatt had gone to the thirtieth floor with hope–of course he had. But unlike Paul, Wyatt was no stranger to storms. Until the very last moment, how could he ever collapse in defeat?
Margaret’s smokescreen meant only two things: either she had really brought Yunice here, or she had never come at all and only scattered pearls to mislead them.
The second theory was useless. If it was the first, then even more likely–she hadn’t taken Yunice far. Carrying a drugged, wounded woman would make her a clumsy target.
So Wyatt had Jordan use thermal scanners to sweep the building, checking for heat signatures in supposedly empty apartments.
It didn’t take long. The 29th floor lit up.
No residents. No water or power usage. But there was heat inside.
Moments earlier, when Margaret believed Wyatt had left defeated and had relaxed her guard, he had already been lying in wait outside.
Yunice’s sudden shout had pulled Margaret’s attention at the perfect instant. When Wyatt shattered the window, Margaret had no chance–she went from captor to cornered in an
instant.
“Margaret,” Yunice said evenly, “give yourself up.”
From outside came the sound of locks being forced. Margaret’s face shifted. The police.
Her voice broke as she looked at Yunice. “Paul… he really is gone?”
“Yes. He destroyed the Johnson siblings for fun, and the sister killed him for it.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
Wyatt shrugged off his jacket and draped it over Yunice, his fingers brushing her hair into place.
Yunice tugged the fabric close, inhaling the faint scent of laundry soap.
Wyatt never used scented detergent. The cloth wasn’t his style either.
She shot him a sidelong glance. Where had he gotten this?
Wyatt glanced once at Margaret, who lay motionless, then shielded Yunice with his body as they moved toward the door. “Let’s go.”
She nodded softly.
Margaret’s eyes followed them, full of venomous unwillingness.
Yunice’s brows drew tight. Something felt wrong.
“My bag,” she whispered quickly. “She took my bag, and inside there’s—”
Wyatt pressed a hand over her mouth, silencing her. He knew. But the police were right outside.
“Come,” he said firmly, guiding her forward.
The lock had already been ruined by the officers outside; it wouldn’t budge. Wyatt steered Yunice to a sheltered corner by the entryway. Once the police broke in, they would be safest here.
He glanced again at Margaret—still slumped. Then his eyes flicked over drawers, shelves, anywhere her things might be hidden.
A sharp crack cut through the air. The door burst open.
In that instant, Margaret sat up, blood on her lips, and yanked a gun taped beneath the table.
Yunice saw it first. Her eyes widened in terror and she yanked Wyatt back.
Bang!
The shot scorched the wall, sparks spitting from the plaster.
Wyatt reacted instantly, shoving the door closed again. “She’s armed!”
If the police stormed in unprepared, there would be casualties.
He stepped out into the open, drawing her fire. Yunice lunged to pull him back.
Wyatt snatched up a small ornament and hurled it at Margaret.
She was ready–she dodged and fired again. The bullet sang past, so close it drove Yunice stumbling backward with the shockwave.
Margaret darted across the room and pressed against the wall. A hidden panel swung open-
an escape route.
“She’s running!”
Wyatt shoved Yunice back toward cover. “Stay down. With the police and me here, she won’t get away.”
But Yunice’s eyes widened. Wyatt caught the movement in his peripheral vision–Margaret’s gun barrel jutting out from the secret doorway.
Bang!
He lunged forward, driving Yunice back two steps with him.
By then, the officers had strapped on body armor and surged inside.
Margaret didn’t hesitate. She dove through the hidden exit and out the window beyond.
Shouts rang out. Officers raced to the balcony in time to see her force her way into the apartment below–dragging a hostage into her grip.
“We have a hostage situation! Requesting immediate backup!” The radios crackled with chaos.
The building erupted into noise–onlookers filming with their phones, police pushing crowds back, tactical teams trying to maneuver for a shot.