Chapter 740:

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Ice water flooded my veins. I saw right through his madness. He knew the Vanguard Medical Wing’s subterranean core was an impenetrable fortress with anti-air defenses and blast doors that had automatically sealed during his outer-perimeter attack. A frontal assault couldn’t reach Dallas. He was turning his own mutilated body into a Trojan horse to bypass the lockdown.

“Drive!” I shouted.

Alistair floored the V8 engine, tearing out of the tunnel and onto the wet, cobblestone streets of Geneva. The freezing rain battered our cracked windshield. Five minutes into our frantic race, the tablet blared with a maximum-level red alert from the local authorities.

Alistair quickly tapped into the city’s traffic cameras.

On the screen, a crowded, brightly lit intersection in the financial district came into view. Gideon’s heavy armored Rolls-Royce rolled into the frame. A split second later, a high-yield explosive hidden inside a municipal trash can detonated.

The shockwave was catastrophic. The Rolls-Royce was violently flipped into the air, crashing down in a sea of black smoke and orange flames. The camera zoomed in on the wreckage. Gideon was hanging upside down in the crushed cabin of the Rolls-Royce. The brutal impact had violently torn open his self-inflicted silver wound, leaving him drenched in blood.

Yet, amidst the screaming pedestrians and wailing sirens, I saw the faint, triumphant smirk on his lips.

The human media would instantly broadcast this as a tragic terrorist attack. But I knew the horrifying truth. It was a perfectly orchestrated disaster, designed to force the doors of our sanctuary wide open.

Ten minutes later, having doubled back from the city, Alistair killed the headlights as we skidded to a halt in the freezing, rain-soaked forest on the perimeter of the neutral medical facility. Through the dense pines, we had a clear view of the Institute’s concrete landing pad.

A Syndicate medical helicopter roared through the storm, descending rapidly toward the pad.

“I’m trying to Mind-Link the Vanguard Lieutenant inside,” Vance snarled from the passenger seat, his hands balled into fists. “It’s jammed. Their electronic warfare plane is blocking our encrypted command signals!”

𝘋𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘗𝘋𝘍𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘴.𝘤𝘰𝘮

Vance let out a ferocious, helpless roar. We were completely cut off. Alistair quickly tuned the radio to the open aviation channel.

“Unidentified aircraft, you are entering restricted airspace,” the Vanguard Lieutenant’s voice crackled over the radio, tight with protocol. “Anti-air missiles are locked. Turn back immediately.”

“Are you insane?!” Gideon’s doctor screamed back through the comms, playing his part flawlessly. “I have a dying man here! He is Gideon Sterling, one of the last pureblood nobles of Europe! If you deny a victim of a terrorist attack humanitarian aid, you will violate the Ancient Pack Treaty! The High Council will declare total war on the Blackwood Pack!”

I stared at the helicopter hovering in the rain. Inside that cabin, behind an oxygen mask, Gideon was weaponizing his own niece’s bloodline and the absolute laws of our world to paralyze the guards.

Five agonizing seconds of dead silence stretched over the radio. The Vanguard Lieutenant was suffocating under the crushing weight of duty and political ruin, preparing to deny them anyway.

Suddenly, a new voice sliced through the channel. “Pad is clear,” Professor Beatrice Vance’s voice echoed with cold authority. “I am utilizing my Level One medical clearance to override the lockdown. Bring the VIP in immediately.”

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