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Chapter 738:
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Adella’s POV
An hour had passed since Dallas surrendered to the deep-sleep pod. I stood in the monitoring room adjacent to the sterilized operating theater, my skin still raw and burning from frantically scrubbing away the chemical solvents earlier.
Through the glass, I watched Healer Henri Laurent working meticulously on my unconscious husband.
Then the power died.
The room plunged into darkness before the blood-red emergency strobes began to pulse. Alistair Croft instantly drew his sidearm, shoving me behind his broad back.
“Perimeter breached,” Gamma Vance Decker’s icy voice crackled over the radio.
Before I could process the warning, the massive reinforced glass windows above us shattered inward. Several hissing metal canisters clattered onto the Persian rug, violently spewing thick, suffocating silver-dust gas into the room. I choked, my eyes watering as the lethal cloud expanded. Through the glass of the operating theater below, I watched in horror as Healer Henri Laurent convulsed and collapsed to the floor, overcome by the gas infiltrating the vents.
I grabbed my tablet to send an emergency alert, but the screen displayed a dead signal. Military-grade jammers.
𝖶e 𝘶p𝗱a𝘁𝖾 𝗲v𝖾𝘳у 𝘄𝗲𝘦𝗄 𝘰𝗇 𝗀𝗮𝗹ո𝗈𝘷𝖾𝗹𝗌.c𝗼m
A horrifying realization hit me like a physical blow. Madame Aurelia hadn’t just sold us out before she died; she had sold our exact coordinates to Gideon for double the black-market gold. This wasn’t a full-scale assault on the impenetrable subterranean bunker, it was a localized, surgical strike on the outer monitoring wing, and Gideon’s true target was the defenseless Alpha King lying on the operating table below.
Alistair slammed a tactical gas mask over my face, grabbing my arm and dragging me toward the evacuation route.
We burst into the narrow, concrete stairwell. Halfway down, two Rogue assassins wearing tactical masks blocked our path, reeking of foul rot and raising their assault rifles.
Vance Decker materialized from the shadows above like an enraged beast. He didn’t hesitate. The deafening roar of his combat shotgun shattered my eardrums. The silver bullets tore through their Kevlar, ripping their chests open and sending their bodies tumbling violently down the concrete steps. Ignoring the pregnancy aches and the dizzying remnants of the silver dust, I followed Alistair over the bleeding corpses and into the underground garage.
We dove into the heavy black armored SUV. Before Alistair could shift into gear, a deafening screech tore through the air.
An RPG slammed into a concrete pillar twenty feet away. The shockwave was apocalyptic. The multi-ton SUV was violently thrown onto two wheels before crashing back down onto the cement. My head slammed against the window, stars exploding in my vision as I instinctively curled my arms over my stomach.
Through the raining debris and thick smoke, Alistair floored the V8 engine. It roared like a mechanical beast as we smashed through the splintered wooden garage doors, tearing out of the concealed forest facility and onto the slick roads leading into the city. In the rearview mirror, two Land Rovers packed with Rogue assassins swerved onto the wet cobblestone streets, hunting us down.
Bullets pinged off our reinforced glass. I thought of little Arthur sleeping in New York. I thought of Dallas, trapped in a medically induced coma, completely at the mercy of a monster. Gideon wasn’t just hunting me; he was trying to slaughter my entire world.
The paralyzing fear evaporated, instantly incinerated by the cold, absolute wrath of the Luna Regent.
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