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Chapter 739:
🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙
I snatched Alistair’s fallen tactical tablet from the floorboards. My fingers flew across the screen, utilizing the Vanguard override codes I had memorized.
“Hold on,” I ordered.
As Alistair drifted the damaged SUV toward a massive six-lane intersection in the city center, I executed the command. I activated the Vanguard Gridlock emergency protocol Alistair had pre-loaded into the system, instantly snapping every traffic light within a mile to green.
Chaos erupted. A commercial heavy-duty truck barreled blindly through the intersection, violently T-boning the lead Land Rover and crushing it into scrap metal. The second Rogue vehicle swerved to avoid the carnage, losing control on the wet cobblestones and slamming head-on into a concrete storefront. A massive fireball illuminated the night sky.
Alistair whipped our SUV into an abandoned, unlit service tunnel on the edge of the city and slammed on the brakes. The silence in the dark tunnel was deafening, broken only by our ragged breathing.
Vance turned from the passenger seat, his tense posture radiating absolute protective urgency. “We need to call the Vanguard jet. We are evacuating you to the airport now, Luna.”
I looked up, my eyes dead and completely devoid of fear. I projected an authority that eclipsed even an Alpha’s Command, crushing his protective instincts.
“Dallas is still there,” I stated coldly. “If he dies, what is the point of my life?”
I turned to Alistair, my voice a glacial whip. “Turn around. We are doubling back to the forest perimeter. We are going to bring the Alpha King back.”
Alistair’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. He knew the safe house was now Gideon’s heavily armed fortress, and there were only three of us. But he shifted the SUV into drive.
𝗦𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗴𝗮𝗹𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘀.𝗰𝗼𝗺
I didn’t say another word. I simply pulled my pistol from my holster and racked the slide.
Adella’s POV
The sharp clack of my pistol slide echoed like a death sentence in the freezing, unlit service tunnel. Alistair didn’t argue. He threw the armored SUV into drive, but before we could surge forward, his tactical tablet flared with a harsh, sickly blue light.
“I’ve breached their encrypted frequency,” Alistair muttered, his fingers flying across the screen. He bypassed the local grid, pulling up a hacked security feed from Gideon’s penthouse suite overlooking the city.
On the screen, Gideon stood in the center of an opulent Persian rug. His Rogue Commander was trembling before him, delivering the news of my escape. I braced myself for a terrifying Lycan outburst, but Gideon didn’t rage. Instead, his dead, obsidian eyes sparked with a sick, twisted euphoria.
Without a word, Gideon picked up a jagged, silver tactical dagger from his mahogany desk.
Alistair’s breath hitched. Even through the screen, his broad shoulders shuddered at the sight of the lethal metal.
Gideon didn’t hesitate. He plunged the silver blade directly into his own abdomen and brutally twisted the hilt. Blood instantly soaked his pristine white shirt. His body must have been screaming in absolute, searing agony from the silver toxin, but Gideon just smiled, a chilling, sadistic grin.
“Initiate Plan B,” Gideon whispered to his horrified Commander.
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