Chapter 40 - The Precipice of Eternity
Adrien frowned, pulling the secure device from his inner jacket. The phone only rang for one line: the secure Swiss redoubt where Aurelia was hidden under maximum security.
Elena’s heart leaped into her throat. "Adrien... what is it?"
Adrien put the phone to his ear. "Speak."
A distorted, metallic voice echoed through the speaker—a voice that was neither Lucian nor Hans, but something infinitely colder, layered with digital modulation.
*"Good evening, Mr. Hudson. Or should I say... brother?"*
Adrien's blood froze in his veins. His grip on the phone tightened until the glass screen hairline-cracked. "Who is this?"
*"Lucian was merely the hound, Adrien. The hound that barked so you wouldn't notice the hunter. Did you really believe your father had only two sons? Did you really believe the Moretti bloodline began and ended with your shattered little family?"*
Across the room, the large digital screens that displayed the gala’s auction items suddenly flickered. The feeds snapped to live video.
Elena let out a suffocated scream, clutching Adrien’s arm.
On the screen was the Swiss nursery.
The elite guards Elena had stationed outside were lying motionless on the snowy terrace. And standing inside the warm, wood-paneled room, looming directly over the crib where baby Aurelia lay sleeping, was a towering figure in an immaculate white coat, wearing an antique Venetian porcelain mask.
In the figure's gloved hand was an antique detonator. In the other was a single, long-stemmed black rose.
*"You took the throne of Milan, Adrien,"* the voice purred through the phone, simultaneously echoing from the ballroom’s sound system. *"But every crown requires a sacrifice. You have forty-eight hours to deliver the Hudson master encryption keys to the Black Fortress in the Bavarian Alps. If you involve your armies, if you involve your allies... the rose will be planted on her grave."*
The masked figure on the screen turned slowly toward the camera, raised his hand, and made a cutting motion across his throat.
The screen instantly went black with static.
Elena looked up at Adrien, her eyes wide with terror, the emerald gown suddenly feeling like a funeral shroud. The ballroom around them was silent as a tomb.
Adrien stood frozen, his eyes burning with a dark, apocalyptic fury that threatened to consume every living soul in Europe.
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The war wasn't over. The true master of the shadows had finally stepped into the light.
And their daughter’s life was ticking away on a frozen clock.
