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Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Three
The mist clung to the outskirts of Rotterdam like a living veil, curling around empty streets and abandoned warehouses, obscuring the world in pale gray. Elise sat rigid in the back of the lead SUV, fingers brushing the cold metal of the reinforced case that contained the genetic key. Every vibration from the road pulsed through her arms, through her chest, as if the very weight of the device had transferred to her bones. She stole a glance at Lukas, sitting beside her, his eyes sharp and alert, scanning every camera feed, every reflection on the wet asphalt. His calm exterior masked a tension that mirrored her own, a taut wire stretched across her chest that threatened to snap with any sudden motion.Margot’s hands were steady on the wheel, gliding the SUV along narrow industrial roads with the precision of a surgeon. Elise noticed how her friend’s jaw set, how her eyes darted continually to the tablet mounted beside her, tracking every movement, every possible angle of threat. Every
Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Two
The dawn was pale, gray streaks of light bleeding across the horizon as the convoy edged closer to the extraction point. Elise sat upright in the back of the SUV, her hands resting on the reinforced case, though she barely felt its cold weight. Her mind was occupied with calculations, contingencies, and the relentless specter of Berg. Every detail of the journey had to be precise; one misstep, one overlooked shadow, and everything could collapse.Lukas sat beside her, fingers drumming lightly against his thigh, eyes scanning every camera feed, every reflected glint of light in the wet streets. His calm was steady, almost surgical, but Elise could sense the tension coiled beneath the surface, the same tension that mirrored her own.“Are all teams in position?” she asked quietly, her voice barely rising above the hum of the engine.Margot’s voice crackled through the comms. “Final units are in place. Surveillance drones overhead, perimeter secured. Any sign of Berg or her operatives, an
Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-One
The convoy moved silently through the mist-soaked outskirts of Rotterdam, the headlights cutting through the gray haze like blades. Elise sat in the back of the lead SUV, her fingers brushing the edge of the reinforced case, feeling the cold steel beneath her touch. Every vibration of the road seemed magnified in her chest, her pulse syncing with the rhythmic hum of the armored engines.Margot drove with the precision of a surgeon, every turn, every acceleration calculated to minimize exposure. Lukas sat beside Elise, scanning the rearview feeds, his jaw tight, eyes sharp. They had rehearsed this extraction a dozen times, yet the weight of the actual operation was unlike anything they had anticipated.“Any sign of surveillance?” Elise asked quietly, not wanting to break the tense silence that had settled over the convoy.Margot’s hands never wavered from the wheel. “Nothing concrete. But Berg is patient. She could be trailing us miles behind, watching every move.”Elise exhaled slowly
Chapter One Hundred and Sixty
The night hung heavy over Rotterdam, thick clouds swallowing what little moonlight remained. Elise crouched beside the containment unit in the dimly lit lab, her fingers tracing the edges of the reinforced metal case. The hum of the refrigeration and security systems filled the space, steady and almost hypnotic, yet every sound outside—the creak of the building settling, the distant wail of a siren, the scuff of tires on wet asphalt—kept her nerves taut.Lukas moved beside her, checking the perimeter cameras one final time before the relocation. His expression was unreadable, a mask of controlled intensity that betrayed nothing, yet Elise could feel the pulse of his anxiety in the set of his jaw and the tension in his shoulders. “All teams in position?” he asked quietly.Margot’s voice crackled through the secure comms. “All positions locked. Extraction route is clear. Backup units are stationed at three-mile intervals. Any anomaly, any trace of Berg, we’re ready.”Elise nodded, her c
Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Nine
The first light of dawn barely touched the edges of Rotterdam as Elise stirred awake in the makeshift bedroom of Margot’s father’s house. The room smelled faintly of old wood and oil, a lingering reminder of a life dedicated to invention and protection. Sunlight filtered weakly through the heavy curtains, throwing narrow bands of gold across the worn floorboards. Elise sat up slowly, wincing as the movement reminded her of the bruise along her shoulder. Lukas, already awake, sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, reviewing security feeds on a tablet, his eyes sharp and alert.“Morning,” Elise said, her voice hoarse, pulled from the haze of a restless night.“Morning,” Lukas replied without looking up, his thumb flicking through images of the warehouse perimeter, the surrounding streets, even satellite captures. “Rested?”Elise shook her head. “Not exactly. I keep thinking about Berg. And Otto. And what could have happened if we hadn’t intercepted him.” She pressed her palm to her fa
Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Eight
Rain drummed steadily against the reinforced glass of the warehouse, a low, insistent rhythm that seemed to echo the pounding of Elise’s heart. The aftermath of Berg’s retreat left the space in uneasy silence, punctuated only by the occasional hum of restored machinery and Margot’s hurried keystrokes as she confirmed the integrity of the containment unit. Every movement, every sound, carried weight, as if even a single misstep could bring the storm back upon them.Elise sank into a chair, her hands pressed against her temples. Her pulse was still high, the adrenaline refusing to subside. Lukas crouched beside her, one hand brushing over her hair, his touch both grounding and silent reassurance. “Breathe,” he murmured. “We’re still standing. She didn’t get the key.”Elise’s lips pressed into a thin line. “For now,” she said softly. “But she knows we have it. She’ll come back. And next time… next time, she won’t hold back.” Her eyes flicked toward the containment unit, its metallic surf
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