Olga analyzed the variables in a fraction of a second. Blake was a coward, but he wasn't a killer. If Victor wanted her dead, Blake would have already shot her. Victor needed her alive to counteract Elena. The enemy of my enemy is my temporary transportation.
She climbed into the passenger seat, the leather cold against her soaked clothes. Blake slammed his foot on the gas, the heavy SUV tearing out of the alleyway and merging into the chaotic London traffic.
"You look terrible," Blake muttered, gripping the steering wheel. His usual smug arrogance was completely gone, replaced by a hollow, terrified desperation. "Jack is dead. They slaughtered him in the visitor's room. I saw the pictures."
"I know," Olga said coldly. "I was sitting across from him when it happened."
Blake’s knuckles turned white. "You dragged us into a war of gods, Olga. We were just skimming real estate margins! Now I’m a dead man walking, working for a billionaire phantom who bought my life for pocket change."
"Where is Victor?" Olga demanded, ignoring his pity party.
"He’s not in London," Blake replied, swerving to avoid a red double-decker bus. "He’s operating out of a mobile command train tearing through the Scottish Highlands. He sent me to retrieve you because he knew you wouldn't shoot your own brother. He says you two have a mutual problem. Elena."
"Elena has the Interpol grid," Olga warned. "She’ll track this vehicle's GPS."
"Already disabled it," Blake said, tapping a mess of wired circuitry hanging out of the dashboard. "I might have been a sloppy accountant, Ollie, but I know how to hotwire a luxury car. Victor wants to make a deal. He says he knows where the Mariana submarine is, and he knows how to sink it before your mother gets her hands on the Mother's Vault."
Olga stared out the rain-streaked window. Teaming up with the Architect—the man who funded her misery and tried to burn her alive—was suicidal. But Victor didn't have her mother's bio-hacking capability. He was a creature of logic and leverage.
The Mafia Boss Caught the Housekeeper in His Forbidden Room — Until He S...
The Mafia Boss Mocked a Waitress in a Foreign Language—Her Reply Left Hi...
I found the first needle on a Thursday afternoon, tucked in a compartmen...
"Drive to Scotland," Olga commanded.
👉 But as they crossed the border into the dark, mountainous highlands, Blake’s phone buzzed with an automated text message that made the blood drain entirely from his face.
Blake stared at the glowing screen of his burner phone resting in the cupholder. The text message was just four words: I know you're driving.
"Throw it out the window. Now!" Olga shouted.
Blake scrambled to grab the phone, rolling down the window and hurling it into the pitch-black Scottish night. But the damage was done. The Genesis Protocol didn't need GPS; it tracked the micro-fluctuations in the cellular network's ping data. Elena knew exactly where they were.
"Step on it," Olga ordered, her eyes scanning the dark, winding highway cutting through the jagged, snow-dusted mountains.
Half a mile ahead, cutting through a deep gorge, was the Edinburgh Express railway line. A massive, sleek black locomotive was tearing along the tracks, its windows heavily tinted. Victor Kaelen’s mobile fortress.
"There it is," Blake said, his voice trembling. "He said to flash the headlights three times when we parallel the tracks."
Blake flashed the beams. Immediately, the side door of the final train car slid open, revealing a brilliantly lit luxury lounge. A steel boarding ramp extended outward, hovering dangerously over the gravel embankment running alongside the tracks.
"You have to match its speed!" Olga yelled over the roaring engine and the howling highland wind.
Blake floored the gas, the Range Rover vibrating violently as it hit ninety miles an hour on the treacherous mountain road. He aligned the SUV with the speeding train. "Take the wheel!" Blake screamed.
Olga unbuckled her seatbelt, grabbing the steering wheel as Blake climbed out of his window, clinging to the roof of the SUV. He leaped across the terrifying gap, tumbling hard into the train car.
"Your turn!" Blake yelled, reaching out from the open train door.
Olga locked the steering wheel in place with her knee, climbing onto the window ledge. The freezing wind whipped her hair across her face. Just as she prepared to jump, a massive, unguided RPG rocket tore through the night sky from the tree line above, slamming directly into the rear axle of the Range Rover.
The explosion was deafening. The SUV spun violently out of control. Olga threw herself into the abyss, abandoning the flaming vehicle just as it flipped into the gorge.
She slammed into the steel floor of the train car, her ribs screaming in agony. Blake dragged her inside, hitting the emergency button. The steel doors slammed shut, sealing them in silence just as the burning Range Rover vanished into the ravine below.
Olga coughed, pushing herself up from the plush Persian rug. She looked up.
Sitting in a high-backed leather armchair, calmly sipping a glass of aged scotch, was Victor Kaelen. He looked completely unbothered by the violence outside.
"Welcome aboard, Olga," Victor smiled, adjusting his Viper signet ring. "I see your mother is already trying to kill you. I suppose we have that in common."
"You tried to burn me alive in Charlotte, Victor," Olga spat, wiping a trail of blood from her cheek. "Why should I listen to a single word you have to say?"
The Mafia Boss Caught the Housekeeper in His Forbidden Room — Until He S...
The Mafia Boss Mocked a Waitress in a Foreign Language—Her Reply Left Hi...
I found the first needle on a Thursday afternoon, tucked in a compartmen...