Chapter 90 - The Leviathan Protocol
The silence in the grand ballroom was absolute, so profound that the dripping of the rain outside seemed deafening. The titans of global finance stared at Elena’s silver key as if it were an unpinned grenade.
Victoria looked around at the trembling council members, realizing in an instant that her authority was evaporating. The men who had backed her were now looking at her with cold, murderous terror.
"You think you've won?" Victoria hissed, her voice dropping into a guttural, venomous register. "You think Julian Sinclair was a saint, Elena? Do you know why he abandoned my mother? Do you know why he hid you away in a pathetic flower shop like a peasant?!"
"He was trying to save me from this!" Elena fired back.
"No!" Victoria screamed, her composure completely shattering. "He hid you because you were an experiment! You and your precious son! Julian didn't design Aegis-7 to wipe out the Sovereign's money—he designed it to enslave every central bank on earth under a single biometric line! He wanted to be God, Elena! And when he realized he couldn't survive the neural integration, he bred you to take his place!"
Victoria suddenly pulled a small, sleek detonator from the pocket of her scarlet dress and slammed the primary toggle down.
"Warning: Facility Lockdown Initiated," the automated security system blared across the museum's speakers.
Heavy steel blast shutters slammed down over every window and doorway in the Kunsthaus, sealing three hundred of the world's most powerful elites inside an impenetrable iron cage. The ventilation fans ground to an abrupt halt, and the crimson emergency lights bathed the ballroom in blood.
"If I cannot hold the Sovereign crown," Victoria whispered, her face twisting into a demonic grin, "then no one leaves this room alive. The museum’s basement houses three thousand liters of liquid natural gas for the climate-controlled art vaults. In three minutes, this entire city block becomes a crater."
At that exact moment, the massive central skylight above the ballroom shattered in an explosion of glass.
Three laser targeting beams pierced through the falling debris, and one of the red dots locked directly onto the center of Elena Sinclair’s chest. Up on the catwalk of the fractured skylight stood a hooded sniper, their finger visibly tightening on the trigger, while high above Zurich, the thunderous roar of an approaching gunship rattled the very foundations of the earth.
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Alexander shoved Elena behind him, drawing his bare fists as Victoria raised a silenced automatic pistol directly at his face, the detonator’s digital timer ticking down:
**02:59... 02:58... 02:57...**
