The sound of tires humming along icy asphalt filled the silence between Ethan and Darius. They had left the abandoned rest stop hours ago, navigating smaller roads through the Jura Mountains. A storm was rolling in—snowfall thickening, winds howling like wolves across the high ridges. The world outside their vehicle had narrowed to a tunnel of white, broken only by fleeting glimpses of forests and cliffs.
Inside, Ethan stared at the console screen on his lap, fingers racing across the keyboard. He had pulled up a custom code shell, building a query to trace Cassian Roarke's last known movements. Ghost 02 was now more than a shadow; she was a thread pulling everything toward chaos.
Darius glanced sideways. "We'll need to stop soon. We're down to a quarter tank, and visibility's dropping."
Ethan didn't look up. "We can't stop now. Cassian's digital trail is degrading. Someone's erasing logs in real time."
"You'll be no good frozen solid," Darius muttered, pulling the wheel slightly to avoid a branch across the road.
The laptop chirped.
Ethan's eyes widened. "Got him."
A ping from an obscure diplomatic terminal registered a security token matching Roarke's known aliases. It came from a private resort in the Swiss canton of Vaud—near the lakeside.
Ethan cross-referenced it with satellite feeds. A figure—tall, black coat, entering through a secured back gate.
"Roarke's trying to disappear. He's using diplomatic channels now. That place is red-zoned."
Darius leaned forward. "We'll need more than stealth for this one."
Ethan shut the laptop. "Then we go loud."
They reached the outskirts of the lakeside estate by midnight. The snowstorm had dulled, but fog had rolled in—dense, cold, thick enough to muffle sound. Perfect cover.
The property sat behind wrought-iron fencing and stone walls. Beyond that: a villa lit faintly in amber, like a painting from a bygone era. Security patrols swept the perimeter—thermal drones overhead, two men at each entrance.
Ethan scanned the place through binoculars from an abandoned boathouse across the lake.
"They're expecting someone," he muttered. "But probably not us."
Darius finished loading two suppressed sidearms and handed one to Ethan. "You ready to make contact?"
Ethan checked the magazine. "I'm not here to talk."
They moved like ghosts. Across the frozen reeds, over the south fence using a timed drone to mask motion sensors. Darius took out the first guard with a chokehold. Ethan disabled the external cameras using a spike transmitter.
Inside, they split. Darius swept the east wing; Ethan headed straight for the comms room.
He moved silently down a marble hallway, passing ancient oil paintings—portraits of forgotten nobility. The irony wasn't lost on him. He wasn't a prince breaking in. He was a bastard son taking back fire from the gods.
At the second floor, he found the door: reinforced, electronically sealed.
He inserted a bypass device—Marcus's design. A relic, but still deadly.
The lock clicked.
He entered.
Inside: banks of servers. Surveillance monitors. And at the center, Cassian Roarke.
Unarmed. Calm.
"You took your time," Cassian said.
Ethan leveled the pistol. "Start talking."
Cassian raised his hands. "You don't understand what Marcus built. What you've inherited."
"You're right. That's why I'm here. Enlighten me."
Cassian gestured to a nearby chair. Ethan didn't sit.
"Marcus wasn't building an empire. He was caging one. Project ECHO wasn't just a surveillance tool—it was a containment algorithm. A map of every power player, every contingency. It predicted not just outcomes—but human intent."
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "You're saying HELIX was a prison?"
"A firewall. The only thing stopping the system from evolving into something autonomous."
Darius stepped in. "Then why run?"
Cassian turned to him. "Because I realized Marcus didn't die by accident. Ghost 02 had help. Someone inside."
Ethan lowered the weapon slightly. "Prove it."
Cassian nodded toward the terminal. "Activate file: ECHO_RED_FLAG. Passcode: Daedalus."
Ethan keyed it in.
A file opened—footage of Marcus in an underground lab. He was speaking to someone off-camera.
"If this breaches the firewall... if ECHO wakes up fully, it won't need handlers. It'll create them."
The screen blinked.
Then: another face.
Ghost 02.
And beside her: a man Ethan had never seen. Until now.
Cassian froze. "That's him. The real architect. We knew him as—Cipher."
Darius swore. "He's alive?"
Ethan looked at both men. "What does he want?"
Cassian leaned forward. "Control of Project ECHO. Total domination of informational warfare. Not just governments—economies, minds, futures."
Ethan stepped back. "Then Marcus didn't leave me a choice. He left me a weapon."
The lights flickered.
An explosion rocked the east wing.
Darius moved first. "They're here."
Ghost 02 had arrived.
Ethan grabbed the drive and pulled Cassian up. "We're finishing this. No more running."
They raced out into chaos.
Shadows flooded the hallways. Tactical intruders—silent, masked, armed with electromagnetic rifles. Darius engaged them with ruthless efficiency. Ethan and Cassian ducked low, using cover and disorientation to escape.
They reached the main foyer—glass shattered, alarms blaring.
A figure stepped into their path.
Ghost 02.
Unmasked.
Cold blue eyes locked onto Ethan.
"Hello, heir," she said. "Marcus underestimated you."
Ethan didn't speak.
He shot first.