2025-11-06 03:57:02The red dot pulsed with the sniper's heartbeat as it sat on Tatiana's breast like a live coal. Alexander slapped the brakes and turned off the van's headlights. Tires screamed. The car skidded behind a concrete jersey barrier on the Navy Yard overpass and fishtailed on wet asphalt. The laser disappeared.
He yelled, "Down!"
Mira was already on the floors when Tatiana pulled the comforter over them both. Rolling out the passenger side, Cole scanned rooftops with the AR-15 up. The smell of cordite and river decay filled the night.
"Talk, Grayson," Alexander yelled into his communications.
Four hundred yards south of the water tower, there is a thermal bloom. suppressed. Lapua 338. A spotter and a shooter. The wind is blowing from right to left at ten knots.
"Make the shot."
"Not possible. He is shielded by Mira's heat signature. He fires when she moves.
On the wheel, Alexander's knuckles turned white. "Choices."
The EMP drone is being recharged. 30 seconds. You must pull him away from the child, even though I can blind his scope.
Tatiana's deep, deadly voice pierced through. "I am the lure."
"No," snarled Alexander.
"Yes." She caressed Mira's curls and pushed the quilt away. "Baby, stay with Uncle Cole. Mommy is engaged in a game of hide-and-seek. She looked directly at Alexander. "Believe me."
He detested it. To keep her in the van, every cell cried out. But hunting, the dot was back on the windshield. He gave one nod.
With a two-handed grasp on the Glock, Tatiana slipped out. Moonlight gleaming on her skin, she stepped out into the open. To her sternum, the red dot snapped.
"You bastard, hurry up," she muttered. "Observe me."
The dot remained stable.
Cole ran for a drainage culvert after scooping Mira. Alexander rolled into the shadows and vaulted the barrier. After lowering the silk mask, he transformed back into the Phantom.
"EMP live in three… two…" said Grayson.
Slowly, Tatiana lifted her arms. "You desire the heir? Instead, take me.
a cough that is muted. Where her foot had been, the round punched the asphalt. She rolled behind a corroded shipping container and dove off. Frantically, the laser swept.
"Now!" Alexander let out a shout.
Silent and matte black, the drone sped across the sky. There was a burst of white light. Every electronic device within two hundred yards, the van's ignition, the sniper scope, and the communications, died. The red dot gave a wink.
Boots thumping, Alexander ran over the open ground. He landed silently on the catwalk ladder after vaulting the container. He weighed Metal down, and Metal moaned. Glock led the way as he ascended quickly.
With a curse, the sniper painstakingly racked the bolt. With the knife out, the spotter whirled. He was shot center mass (suppressed pop) by Alexander. The body fell over the railing and splashed into the river.
The weapon was swung like a club by the sniper. Alexander dodged and punched the man in the stomach. They collided with the railing of the tower. Below, D.C. gleamed, unaware.
Alexander tore the rifle off and threw it into the night. Pulling a combat knife, the sniper (scarred face, ex-Spetsnaz ink on his neck) did so. He made a lunge.
Alexander spun, grabbed the wrist, and sidestepped. Bone broke. The blade clanked. He repeatedly banged the man's face onto the scope mount. The metal was slicked with blood.
"Who sent you?" Alexander growled.
A tooth was spat by the sniper. For the girl alive, Whitaker pays three times as much. If the mother is looking, double.
Mid-strike, Alexander's fist froze. "Where is he?"
"Gala Senate." Inside already. It's too late.
Alexander gagged the sniper with his own balaclava and zip-tied his hands to the railing. He entered his communications. "Stat, status."
Breathless, her voice returned. "Mira is secure. She is in Cole's culvert. "Where are you?"
"Water tower." The gala is where Benjamin is. We leave now.
In three leaps, he jumped down the ladder and landed on the ground. Tatiana's eyes blazed as she met him at the van. With Mira on his hip and the quilt trailing like a banner, Cole came out of the culvert.
Alexander opened the back doors of the van. There are two tuxedos, one emerald gown, and duffel bags of equipment inside. "The insurance policy of Grayson."
Tatiana raised the silk, thigh-slitting, backless gown. "This was something you planned."
"Contingency." After removing the tactical vest, he put on the tuxedo shirt. He buttoned it with trembling fingers. "Every camera in the room forgets Benjamin exists when you wear that."
She approached him and repositioned his bow tie. His throat was touched by her knuckles. And you in this? I might also forget.
Mira laughed out of Cole's embrace. "Mom is attractive."
Tatiana grinned ferociously. "Daddy is more attractive."
Cole threw Alexander the keys to a black, tinted, stolen-plate vehicle that was waiting. I'll grab the van and set up a distraction. You two are amazing. You are Mr. and Mrs. Langford, who are Monaco-based arms traffickers, and Grayson has hacked the guest list.
The keys were caught by Alexander. "What about Benjamin?"
The east balcony is the private box. In forty minutes, the live feed will begin. He will either die or confess on television.
Tatiana fastened Mira to a booster seat in the rear of the automobile. "How about her?"
"The safe house of Grayson." Mossad, Nanny's ex. Until we return, Mira will watch cartoons and eat ice cream.
Mira sulked. "I hope Daddy becomes a hero."
Alexander tapped her nose while kneeling. "Kiddo, heroes return home." Assure me.
Mira was moved to the van by Cole. With her gown glistening, Tatiana climbed into the passenger seat of the vehicle. Alexander got behind the wheel. The engine came to life with a purr.
Tatiana's hand met his on the shifter as they rolled toward the city. "After tonight?"
"We vanish. private island. No more masks.
Leaning down, she planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "I'm going to hold you to that."
The parkway was joined by the sedan. The water tower (Grayson's farewell gift) burnt behind them. In the distant, sirens cried out.
Alexander blew it away. Empires would crumble at the event, which loomed ahead with its crystal chandeliers and champagne flutes.
The black SUV's headlights blazed in the rearview mirror. It sped up and collided with their bumper. Metal screamed.
Tatiana whirled, Glock raised. "Company."
With his tires smoking, Alexander swerved. "Remain steadfast."
Once more, the SUV collided. The automobile made a fishtailing motion. Cole held Mira's booster seat, but it was empty. However, the fresh blood-stained bedspread was resting on the floorboards.
Tatiana gasped for air. "We don't own that."
Alexander glanced over at the quilt. After dancing across it, a lone red laser dot landed on the headrest, which is where Mira's head would have been.
The hunt was only getting started.
With the child draped over his shoulder (Mira, unconscious, quilt trailing), Harrison Whitmore's shadow emerged from the rear seat of the SUV. As the SUV swerved onto an exit ramp, he held up a fake salute.
The automobile rocked from Alexander's roar. "She's with him!"
Tires roaring, he turned the wheel and chased the taillights into the night. The empire, the confession, the gala, everything came down to this: Before the sun rose over the Potomac, every Whitaker would bleed.
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Chapter 190: Sealed Breath
In the sudden silence, the seed's pulse sounded like a silent thunderclap. It wasn’t a threat. It was true. There was a period at the end of a sentence, but it had rolled under the desk and was just waiting to be picked up. They didn’t speak. They merely stared at the little, black glimmer on the white sand. It was beneath the slide, or where the slide had been, but it was now only a metal curve protruding from the dune that had been washed by the sand. “We could leave it,” Alexander remarked, his voice scratchy. He wrapped a protecting arm around Mira, who was quiet, watching the seed with a child’s somber interest. “Bury it deeper. Forget it’s here.” “It would grow,” Tatiana responded, her own voice weary beyond measure. "In the dark." without anyone to observe it. What kind of story blooms in the dark, alone?” She thought about Benjamin, nurturing his hatred in seclusion. "A perverse one." A spiteful one. Thus, we demolish it. Right now. He took a step toward it, his foot sinki
Chapter 189: Death Fruit
The playground was eerily quiet. There was no longer any wind. The distant sounds of the suburb were gone. On the wood chips, it was just the three of them: Tatiana on her knees, a sobbing seven-year-old Mira clutching to her, and Alexander Harrington's elderly, breathless husk with a jar of his final sigh sitting on his ribcage. The floating orchard was gone. The sky was a neutral, flat blue. The golden swing lay neglected, its chains now dull and inactive. All that existed was this finale. CHAPTER 400. Tatiana stared at the jar. The label was final. Absolute. This was not feasible. It was a receipt. For all the struggles, loops, and love that had unavoidably brought us to this point. To a playground where her spouse died of old age in minutes, his life-force robbed to pay the mortgage of 215 destroyed tragedies. Mira’s small hands clutched her mother’s arm. “Is Daddy sleeping?” The innocent question was a knife. Tatiana said in a cracked voice, "No, sweetheart." “He’s… gone.” I
Chapter 188: Sky Swing
The fruit was a gut-punch of recollection made tangible. Tatiana could hear the ghost of her own cry, feel the slick heat of Alexander's blood through her clothes, and smell the cordite and champagne from the gala. Trapped in that sphere of smoked glass, it was all there, a museum display of her biggest failure. To reach Mira, she would have to fly past it. Its proximity seemed toxic, a psychological radiation that threatened to suck her back into that moment, to make her feel the death that had defined so much of their war. Mira swung, heedless in her enchanted sleep, a trapped princess in a floating necropolis of horrible endings. This is his creation, Tatiana realized, hovering, her twilight wings beating the thin air. In order to trap her among the ruins, he enticed her up here. To remind me of the cost of every victory. Benjamin weaponized their own past since he was no longer able to prevail in a straight fight. She gazed from the Death Fruit to her daughter. A choice. Confr
Chapter 187: Swing Altar
The sight of their daughter, ankle-locked to a golden swing and soaring into the heavens with a puppet’s laugh, broke something in Alexander. The cool, strategic half of him was destroyed, leaving only raw, paternal terror. He yelled, "MIRA!" and lunged for the swing set. However, the swing was no longer fixed to the playground's typical A-frame. The cables stretched skyward, unimaginably long, vanishing into the cloud layer. The actual machinery was someplace in the heavens; the set was really a stand-in. Harrison-13 stood back, his hands in his pockets, gazing with a peaceful, inquisitive look, as if seeing an interesting science experiment. He was no longer the shy boy next door. He served a purpose. A plot device. Tatiana didn’t spend breath on shouts. She stared down at her own body, at the ripped bridal robe. She focused on the region between her shoulder blades, where the storm-cloud wings had erupted. They were gone, but the canal was burnt open. The phantom agony served a
Chapter 186: Priest Smile
The word “granddaughter” hung in the fragrant air of the false cathedral, a spider’s thread of possession. Benjamin’s smile returned, thinner now, harsher. The rebellious bride, Tatiana, was not in his line of sight. His sights were on the prize, the heir. Standing motionless in her maid of honor's gown on Mira-20. Benjamin reiterated, his voice a calming, toxic tune, "The story must go on." We transplant to another branch if one fails to produce fruit. The tree is alive. The orchard endures.” He extended a hand toward Mira. “Come, child. Take your mother’s place at the altar. Accept your legacy. After all, you have a birthright to it. Mira remained still. Her eyes were wide, fixated on Tatiana. She was the seventy-year-old female who had nibbled the apple from Chapter 1. She was aware of the price of legacy. Alexander discovered his voice, a rough rasp of sound. “You don’t touch her.” Benjamin’s gaze flicked to him, amused. “Or what, Alexander? Will you use your naked hands to de
Chapter 185: Gold Wedding
It was triggered by the taste. A circuit was finished when a synapse fired. The rented ranch house, the stormy backyard, the chain-link fence, all of it melted like a watercolor painting in the rain. The sensations from the fruit became reality. The aroma of myrrh and orange flowers permeated the thick, fragrant air of a large, packed room. The sensation of silk became the heavy, structured weight of a wedding gown on her torso. The organ's sound gave way to the grand, soaring sounds of Wagner's "Bridal Chorus." Tatiana blinked. In a vast, gothic church, she stood at the end of a long, red-carpeted aisle. Stained glass windows portraying not saints, but elaborate, abstract patterns of thorns and roses, reflect colored light on the stone floor. Hundreds of guests sat in pews, their faces a jumble of happiness and sorrow. All were dressed in impeccable, formal clothing. She was clutching a bouquet of white roses and black calla lilies. She looked to her left. Alexander stood there
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