Chapter 87 - The Sovereign Citadel
"Hold on to Leo!" Alexander roared.
He smashed the rusted emergency release lever on the side of the railbed with the iron rod.
A deafening groan of tortured steel echoed across the canyon. The heavy counterweight plummeted into the abyss, and the industrial cable cage beneath them violently surged forward along the secondary high-tension wire.
Above them, the helicopter opened fire. 50-caliber rounds tore through the roof of the abandoned railcar, shredding the metal to ribbons. But the family was already dropping like a stone into the freezing, blinding blanket of mist.
Behind them, the structural cables of the bridge whipped through the air like severed guitar strings. With an apocalyptic roar, the center span of the trestle bridge collapsed, plunging the SUVs and their mercenary crews into the jagged rocks below.
Twenty minutes later, the cable cage slammed into the lower safety buffer in the deep pine woods bordering the Rhine.
They were bruised, bleeding, and soaked in cold sweat, but they were alive.
Two days later — Zurich, Switzerland.
In the penthouse suite of the Grand Hotel Dolder, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the mud and blood of the Black Forest. High above Lake Zurich, the financial capital of Europe glimmered like a sea of diamonds beneath the night sky.
Inside the private boardroom of the Sovereign Syndicate’s primary shell corporation—Aethelgard Financial—Victoria Sterling stood before a floor-to-ceiling glass wall, sipping vintage champagne.
Behind her, six elderly men in bespoke tailored suits sat around an oval table of black obsidian. These were the true rulers of the Sovereign: barons of European industry, private central bankers, and intelligence directors whose names appeared on no public records.
"The Black Forest facility is gone," one of the men said coldly, his voice laced with venom. "The Aegis-7 core was compromised before the self-destruct was triggered. You promised us absolute control of the Genesis key, Victoria. Yet the Vance boy and your sister still breathe."
Victoria turned slowly, her grey eyes locking onto the elder with absolute contempt.
"Do not lecture me on patience, Baron Roth," Victoria replied silkily. "Elena thinks she escaped. She thinks she can hide behind Vance’s fractured corporate empire. But she forgets who taught Julian Sinclair how to hide assets."
She set her champagne flute down on the obsidian table and pressed a single button on a remote. A massive holographic display flickered to life in the center of the room, displaying a real-time satellite feed of Zurich's financial district.
"Tonight is the annual Sovereign Gala at the Kunsthaus Museum," Victoria announced, her smile cold and predatory. "Every asset belonging to the Vance Trust and the Sinclair estate is scheduled to be auctioned off to the highest bidder under the guise of an insolvency liquidation. Elena cannot resist coming. Her mother’s original Genesis journals are the centerpiece of the auction."
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"And if she doesn't come?" Baron Roth asked.
"She will," Victoria murmured, tracing the surgical scar on her hand. "Because I just sent her a photograph of the flower shop in Maine. Burned to ash."
