Location; Blackwood Private Airstrip, Manaus Outskirts, Brazil
The engines of the stealth jet purred softly as it prepared for takeoff. Damien paced by the boarding stairs, jaw tight, mind spinning. Inside the jet, Rafael's son sat between Nora and Fey, still pale and silent. Whatever they'd done to the boy had left scars—some visible, some buried deep.
"We need to get him to Geneva," Nora said. "The doctors at the Blackwood Institute are the only ones equipped to reverse those memory tampering injections."
Damien didn't answer. He was staring at the encrypted message glowing on his holopad screen:
"We have Alina. You have 48 hours. Come alone. Location will follow. —E"
He clenched the device so hard it cracked slightly.
Fey noticed. "What's wrong?"
"They want to trade the boy… for Alina." Damien's voice was low. "But they already have her."
Nora stood abruptly. "We split. I'll fly the boy to Geneva. You track Alina."
"Not this time," Damien said. "They're baiting both of us. We stay together."
A faint buzz signaled another incoming message—this one untraceable, routed through a ghost server. It contained only two words:
"Ninth Line."
In Geneva, Switzerland – Blackwood Institute (Underground Bunker)
Lucia stared at the monitor, watching Alina's last known coordinates fade from satellite range. She clenched her fists. Beside her, Dr. Emre—a reclusive neurologist from Turkey—analyzed data flowing in from Rafael's son.
"This boy carries a mutated gene. Not just any mutation… It matches the ancient line referenced in the Codex of Nyari."
Lucia's eyes narrowed. "You're saying Rafael's son is part of the Ninth Line too?"
"No," Dr. Emre replied. "I'm saying he's a decoy. The true Ninth Line heir is still unaccounted for."
Lucia swallowed hard. "Then Alina is the real target."
In a Secret Facility, Somewhere in the Himalayas
Alina blinked into the dim light. The cell was cold, the air thin. Her wrists were bound, not by chains, but by biometric locks responding to her DNA. A voice filtered through hidden speakers—feminine, calm, unnervingly familiar.
"Your ancestors locked away a power no one could control. But you... you were born with the key."
Alina's breath hitched. "Esmeralda."
"Very good," the voice cooed. "In twenty-four hours, the Cryo-Queen's tomb opens. Your blood will awaken her, and her voice will silence the world's chaos."
Alina closed her eyes. Damien... please be fast.
Location; Undisclosed Military Research Vessel, South China Sea
Archer lit a cigar as he watched satellite feeds with his usual detached cool. "They're moving too slowly," he muttered.
His second-in-command, a young genius hacker from Ghana named Ayuba, nodded. "If Esmeralda completes the ritual, we'll lose control of the Cold Network's inner command."
"I didn't spend decades building this web to be dethroned by a woman worshipping ancient myths." Archer turned toward the control panel. "Ready the drone strike. Target the Himalayan range."
Ayuba hesitated. "Alina might still be there."
Archer's gaze was icy. "Collateral. She made her choice."
Location; Blackwood Jet – En Route to Nepal
As the snow-covered peaks approached, Damien and Nora sat in silence. Fey briefed them on the ancient legend tied to the Ninth Line—a lineage older than any royal bloodline, one said to hold the balance of the world's hidden forces.
"She's more than our niece," Nora said, her voice trembling. "She's the lock. And maybe the weapon."
Damien clenched his fists. "Then we end this. Tonight."