Chapter 74 - The Confession Under Torpedo Light
The interior of the *Montgomery Sovereign* was not like any military submarine Elena had ever seen. It was a dark, opulent subterranean tomb—corridors lined with brushed titanium, acoustic dampening panels of black leather, and recessed emergency strips that cast a sickly emerald hue over the deck.
The air smelled sterile, filtered through charcoal scrubbers, carrying the faint, sweet trace of medical-grade oxygen.
Julian collapsed against the bulkhead of the upper transition deck, his fingers buried in his damp hair, rocking back and forth. "My father... my father raped my marriage. He planned this from the very beginning. The clinic... the private doctors in Zurich... the entire fertility treatment was a setup."
Elena ignored him. She set the carrier on a secured steel workstation and swiftly ran her fingers over the electronic diagnostic display. Maya’s vitals were stable—heart rate 135 bpm, oxygen saturation 99%. The baby had fallen back asleep, oblivious to the fact that her existence had just torn down a century-old empire.
"Save your tears, Julian," Elena said coldly, unsheathing a survival knife from the tactical harness she had scavenged back in the safehouse. "You let him control every breath you took. You stood by while Victoria tried to poison me at the gala. You watched while her hired men chased me across Gravesend Bay."
Julian looked up, his eyes bloodshot, tears cutting clean tracks through the grease on his face. "I didn't know about Maya! I swear to God, Elena, I thought... I thought we were building a future! I wanted to get away from them! I was terrified of what she would do if I defied her!"
"You were terrified of losing your inheritance," Elena snapped, her eyes narrowing like flint. "You traded your wife and child for a seat at a table of murderers."
Before Julian could answer, the ship’s internal intercom crackled to life with a blast of static that made both of them jump.
A voice, low, distorted, and dripping with wet, labored breaths, echoed through the metallic corridors:
*"Elena..."*
Elena froze. The hair on her arms stood straight up.
*"You think... a piece of buckshot can terminate... the architect?"* Alistair’s voice rasped over the loudspeakers. *"You locked the conning tower... but you forgot... the lower torpedo airlock."*
"He’s on board," Julian whispered, the color completely draining from his face. "He’s inside the pressure hull."
"How?" Elena hissed. "He was washed out into the bay!"
"The ballast maintenance tubes," Julian said, his voice rising in panic. "The exterior diver hatches! He designed this sub! He knows every bypass conduit, every crawlspace! He had an emergency rebreather station on the gantry!"
The intercom clicked again. *"The vessel is currently descending to test depth... twelve hundred feet. At that pressure, the outer hull withstands three hundred atmospheres. But the interior... can be vented sector by sector from the command bridge."*
May you like
A heavy, metallic thud echoed from the deck below them.
*"I don't need you, Elena. And I certainly don't need my pathetic, defective son,"* Alistair’s voice chuckled, ending in a bloody, hacking cough. *"I only need the child’s DNA to unlock the encrypted Swiss vaults. Bring her to the bridge... or I flood Sector 4 with inert halon gas and watch you choke on your own blood."*
