Chapter 101 - The Precipice of War
The foyer had become an abattoir. Vincent moved with lethal, mechanical precision, firing short, controlled bursts from behind the marble colonnade. Three black-clad Vanguard commandos went down in the first volley, their helmets shattered by high-velocity rounds. But behind them came an unending wave of armored soldiers, sweeping through the shattered entryway with flashbangs and suppressive fire.
Vincent felt a sharp, burning agony tear through his left shoulder as a round punched through his armor plate, but he didn't slow. He dropped the empty rifle, drew twin sidearms, and drove two more attackers back into the snow, trading blood for every second of time Emma and Elena needed to descend into the vault.
Down beneath the earth, in a forgotten stone crypt that smelled of ancient limestone and salt, Emma Ward stood before a massive brass-and-copper console that looked like a pipe organ combined with a supercomputer.
Elena Moretti leaned against the stone wall, clutching her side, breathing heavily. "The terminal, Emma. Insert the sequence."
Emma approached the console. On the screen, a single blinking prompt demanded:
*INPUT PRIMARY OVERRIDE CIPHER.*
Emma held her cut hand over the optical reader, letting her blood drip onto the glass, and began to type the seven-word phrase her mother had whispered to her on her deathbed—the phrase Emma had thought was only a nursery rhyme:
*THE LION SLEEPS BENEATH THE FROZEN SHORE.*
The massive computer banks erupted with blinding light. Relays began to chatter at impossible speeds. On the central terminal, a progress bar flared to life:
*UPLOADING VANGUARD DECLASSIFICATION FILE (GLOBAL BROADCAST): 12%... 24%... 48%...*
Suddenly, the heavy iron door at the top of the spiral staircase was blasted inward.
A body tumbled down the stone steps, crashing heavily onto the crypt floor. It was Kane, his armor torn to shreds, barely clinging to life.
Behind him, descending the spiral stairs slowly, calmly, with his ivory-topped cane tapping against the stone steps, came Jonathan Vance.
His silver hair was wild, his eyes burning with the madness of a dying king. Behind him were four elite bodyguards, dragging a battered, bleeding, and disarmed Vincent Moretti by his arms.
Vincent’s face was covered in crimson, his body exhausted, but his eyes were still locked onto Jonathan Vance with lethal promise.
Jonathan walked into the center of the crypt. He looked at the glowing screen, then at the progress bar reaching 78%, and then he looked at Emma Ward.
"Stop the upload, Emma," Jonathan whispered, raising a custom silver pistol and pointing it directly between Vincent Moretti’s eyes. "Touch that terminal again, and Chicago's most powerful billionaire dies on this stone floor like a stray dog. Count to three, child. Choose his life... or my destruction."
May you like
Emma’s finger hovered over the final execution key. The progress bar hit 89%. Vincent met her eyes through his blood, shook his head violently, and opened his mouth to shout—
And outside, through the ceiling of the crypt, the deafening roar of a second, even larger fleet of unmarked attack helicopters began to shake the very foundations of the earth.
