The freezing air of the Swiss valley bit into Anthony’s lungs, but the adrenaline acting as a buffer was beginning to fade, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. He dragged Ezekiel Vance through the knee-deep snow, the older man’s breath hitching in wet, ragged gasps. Behind them, the Aegis Alpha Bunker was a plume of black smoke against the pristine white of the mountain."You... you can't just keep me like this," Ezekiel wheezed, stumbling. "I’m a signatory. I have rights under the Hague Convention.""You lost your rights the second you helped Rostova prime those thermite charges," Anthony said, not looking back. He adjusted the grip on his sidearm, his bandaged hands throbbing with every heartbeat. "Right now, you’re not a King, Ezekiel. You’re evidence. And if you trip again, I might decide you’re too heavy to carry."A low-frequency hum vibrated through the air. From behind a jagged ridge, a black transport VTOL emerged, its rotors tilting for a landing. Ronan stood in the open bay

The Banque de l'Ermitage was a relic of a bygone era—a grey stone edifice tucked between luxury watch boutiques and high-end law firms. To the casual observer, it was a boutique wealth management firm. To the Jodah family, it was the "Black Box."Anthony stepped out of the car, flanked by Liora and Ronan. He was dressed in a tailored suit, his bandaged hands hidden in fine leather gloves. He looked every bit the billionaire heir, but his eyes were those of a man walking into a trap."Remember," Liora whispered as they approached the heavy oak doors. "The Swiss have a 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' policy for Sovereign Reserves, but if the ICJ has flagged you as a terrorist, they will freeze everything.""They can't flag me without admitting the ICJ is compromised," Anthony said. "Rostova is stuck. She has to keep this quiet as much as we do."They were met in the lobby by an elderly man with silver hair and a suit that cost more than a small house. "Lord Jodah. It has been many years. We wer

The ascent from the vault was a chaotic, running gunfight. The Banque de l'Ermitage was no longer a temple of finance; it was a slaughterhouse. Aegis tactical teams, clad in sleek black armor, were moving through the lobby with ruthless efficiency, using thermal sights to pick off the bank’s security."Through the service elevator!" Julian shouted, taking the lead and firing a suppressed submachine gun into a pair of Aegis guards.Anthony, Ronan, and the Board followed, their movements frantic. Mark was clutching the drive to his chest as if it were his own heart."They're using heavy ornaments!" Vionna yelled as another explosion rocked the building. "They’re trying to bring the whole structure down!""They want to bury the vault!" Liora added. "If the bank collapses, the ICJ can claim it was a 'terrorist attack by the Jodah militia.'"They reached the roof, the cold Alpine wind whipping at their clothes. A black helicopter was waiting, but it wasn't Julian’s or the ICJ’s. It was unm

The Seine was a ribbon of dark glass reflecting the amber glow of Paris. As the stealth craft slowed to a crawl near the Pont de l'Alma, Anthony adjusted the cufflinks on his dress shirt. His hands, though healed of the raw burns, were a map of silver scars—a permanent souvenir of the lighthouse. He pulled on a pair of white silk gloves, the final piece of the aristocratic costume he had spent his life trying to shed."You look like a ghost of the 1920s, Anthony," Vionna said, her voice soft over the hum of the electric motor. She was draped in a floor-length gown of midnight blue, her hair an architectural marvel of coils and pins. "The 'Ethical King' returns to the court. Just remember: in that ballroom, your scars are a liability. Wear arrogance like armor.""I don't feel like a King, Vionna," Anthony replied, checking the weight of the compact transmitter hidden in his breast pocket. "I feel like the guy who brought a match to a powder keg.""That’s exactly what a King is," Julian

The descent from the gala to the basement was like moving from a dream into a nightmare. The opulence of the Hôtel de Noirmoutier evaporated, replaced by the sterile, reinforced concrete of a high-tech bunker. The air grew colder, smelling of industrial coolant and the sharp, metallic tang of ionized air."Five levels down," Julian whispered, his eyes fixed on a tactical display on his wrist. "The Aegis hub is protected by a rotating-frequency acoustic lock. If we make a sound above a whisper, the pressure plates in the floor will trigger a vacuum seal.""And the locket?" Anthony asked."It’s a passive transmitter," Julian explained. "It pulses at the same frequency as your mother’s resting heart rate. The AI recognizes it as the 'Mother Pulse.' It’s the only way to bypass the biometric logic gate without triggering the 'Redacted Sovereign' timer prematurely."They reached the Level 3 landing. The elevator was out of the question—too easy to trap. They moved down the service stairs, R