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36 Hours Later

Location: Prague, Czech Republic — Underground Vault beneath the Bellini Foundation

A silent corridor stretched before them, dimly lit by recessed lights that flickered ever so slightly—almost like a pulse.

Vivian led the way, clad in tactical black. Her expression was unreadable, movements sleek and calculated. Dylan followed behind, checking the biometric reader on his wrist every few feet. Caleb trailed nervously, re-earning trust one mission at a time.

They reached a reinforced steel door—coded, pressure-sealed, and shielded.

Dylan pulled out a decryptor puck and slapped it onto the control pad.

“Security protocols rotating every ten seconds,” he murmured. “We’ve got one window.”

Vivian leaned in. “Then make it count.”

With a soft click, the door hissed open. Vivian was the first through, her silenced pistol sweeping the room—

—only to pause.

Inside wasn’t what she expected.

No computers.

No hard drives.

Just art.

And Marco Bellini.

Standing casually, a glass of win
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  • 258

    Somewhere near the northern fjords of Norway, two hours later…The safehouse was buried deep in the granite belly of a mountain, invisible to satellites and cloaked from all standard surveillance grids. Caleb hunched over the console, red light from the screens casting his face in eerie shadows.“Still no ping on Hale?” Vivian asked, voice hoarse from smoke and adrenaline.“Ghosted,” Caleb muttered, typing rapidly. “He’s not on facial, thermal, or biometric nets. Either someone’s hiding him, or—”“Or he’s using another clone,” Mendez cut in grimly as he loaded fresh rounds into his sidearm. “We don’t even know if that was the real him back there.”Vivian paced. Her bruised neck still ached, but her fury outweighed the pain. “It was him. That ego? You can’t fake that.”A ping echoed from Caleb’s console. Everyone stilled.“Something just hit a subchannel from Geneva.” Caleb leaned in, brows furrowing. “Encrypted scramble. But the tag matches the Umbra matrix. It’s… a fragment. Voicepri

  • 257

    A glass chandelier sparkled above the marble atrium, casting refracted light across the faces of billionaires, diplomats, and defense contractors. Waiters in tuxedos glided past with champagne. Laughter rippled. Cameras clicked.And in the middle of it all, Victor Hale smiled.His tailored suit was razor-sharp, his tie blood red. The woman on his arm—Nadia’s clone—laughed at something a Turkish minister said, but her eyes flicked robotically to the left every three seconds. A programmed scan pattern.“She’s running a threat sweep,” Dylan muttered from the van, eyes locked on the screen.Vivian adjusted her blazer, then pulled her hair into a tight ponytail as she exited the vehicle. “Let her. She won’t see us coming.”“Two guards at every exit,” Mendez said, checking the building schematic. “Basement’s got a secured uplink. That’s where he’ll trigger the protocol.”Vivian clicked her mic. “Caleb?”“I’m inside already,” came the hushed voice. “Pose as a waiter. I’m moving toward the up

  • 256

    36 Hours LaterLocation: Prague, Czech Republic — Underground Vault beneath the Bellini FoundationA silent corridor stretched before them, dimly lit by recessed lights that flickered ever so slightly—almost like a pulse.Vivian led the way, clad in tactical black. Her expression was unreadable, movements sleek and calculated. Dylan followed behind, checking the biometric reader on his wrist every few feet. Caleb trailed nervously, re-earning trust one mission at a time.They reached a reinforced steel door—coded, pressure-sealed, and shielded.Dylan pulled out a decryptor puck and slapped it onto the control pad.“Security protocols rotating every ten seconds,” he murmured. “We’ve got one window.”Vivian leaned in. “Then make it count.”With a soft click, the door hissed open. Vivian was the first through, her silenced pistol sweeping the room——only to pause.Inside wasn’t what she expected.No computers.No hard drives.Just art.And Marco Bellini.Standing casually, a glass of win

  • 255

    Three Days Later — Tokyo, JapanLocation: Private Tea House, Shibuya DistrictThe paper screen slid open silently as Maiko Katsura entered, her presence as sharp and precise as the blade hidden beneath her kimono sleeve. She wasn’t just an information broker—she was a legend in the intelligence world, someone even seasoned field operatives refused to cross.Vivian stood waiting, dressed simply in black, no weapons visible, but her eyes betrayed the fire that had only grown since the confrontation with Lucien.Maiko’s lips curled faintly. “You came without backup. Either brave… or reckless.”Vivian bowed slightly. “Both.”Maiko gestured to the cushion across from her. “Then speak. And don’t waste words.”Vivian slid a flash drive across the lacquered table. “Nadia Greer. Victor Hale. Marco Bellini. We tracked the link back to your territory. I need names, networks, satellite leases, ghost server jumps—everything.”Maiko didn’t even look at the drive. “And what do I get in return?”Vivi

  • 254

    The buzz of tension hadn’t even begun to settle when the door to the safehouse’s main floor clicked open again.Vivian and Dylan both turned sharply, hands instinctively brushing their concealed holsters.But it wasn’t an intruder.It was Agent Serena Voss—tall, poised, icy-eyed, and draped in her usual navy coat that seemed to hum with command.Behind her trailed Specialist Lin Cho, whose tablet was already lit up with real-time satellite pings.“Did you miss the part where this was a restricted site?” Dylan growled.Serena didn’t blink. “I override my own clearances.”Vivian stepped forward. “Then override this—walk back out, Voss. We’re not playing diplomatic games anymore.”“I didn’t come for games.” Serena’s eyes flitted to the monitor showing Victor Hale sipping wine. “You’re playing with fire, Vivian. Hale’s not just ‘retired.’ He’s an asset that never shut down.”“Asset,” Vivian repeated, voice low. “Is that what you call a man who once sold out half our Eastern field network

  • 253

    Vivian’s eyes flicked back to the photo on her screen. The grainy image captured the moment perfectly—her soft smile to Dolly, the protective hand of Dylan resting on her shoulder, the obliviousness of the people around them. But now, that moment was tainted. Someone had been watching, waiting. Her throat tightened. “They want me rattled.” Dylan’s voice was low but firm. “Then we don’t give them the satisfaction.” She nodded, determination hardening like steel in her chest. “I’ll double security around Dolly. No more public appearances without full sweeps.” “Good.” Dylan’s tone grew sharper, eyes flicking back to the street outside the car window. “No more slip-ups. We can’t afford mistakes.” Vivian swallowed, running a hand through her hair. “You think they’re going to try something soon? Like, escalate?” Dylan shook his head slowly. “It’s not if. It’s when. They’re already testing the waters—sending signals. That photo wasn’t just for intimidation. It was a message.” A bitter

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