Chapter 84 - The Iron Architect's Arrival
The heavy titanium blast door was sliced open with terrifying precision. A high-yield thermite charge hissed through the metal, melting the hinges into white-hot slag. With a dull thud, the door fell forward, crashing into the flooded bilge.
Through the curtain of smoke stepped a tall, imposing figure.
Julian Vance was in his late sixties, but he carried himself with the lethal posture of a seasoned predator. His silver hair was cropped short, his tailored tactical trench coat pristine despite the damp horrors of the submarine. In his right hand, he held a gold-plated semi-automatic pistol. Flanking him were four heavily armed mercenaries, their assault rifles raised, lasers painting red dots across Elena’s chest and Victoria’s forehead.
"Victoria," Vance said, his voice smooth, cultured, and devoid of any human empathy. "Thirty years, and you still make an utter mess of simple administrative tasks."
Victoria backed into the steel rack, trembling. "Julian... the deal was for the assets. You promised the family would retain the private islands. You promised—"
*BANG.*
Vance didn't even look at Victoria as he pulled the trigger. The bullet struck the deck an inch from her foot, sending steel shards tearing through her ankle. Victoria shrieked, collapsing into the saltwater.
"Quiet," Vance murmured, not shifting his gaze from Elena. His cold, slate-grey eyes drifted down to the bundle against Elena's chest. A thin, satisfied smile curled his lips. "Hello, Elena. I must applaud you. You survived the yacht, the Atlantic currents, the crash at Widow’s Reef, and even Victoria’s rather pedestrian attempts at homicide. You are remarkably resilient for an outsider."
Elena adjusted her stance, keeping her body angled so her submachine gun remained leveled at Vance’s throat, her other arm cradling Maya defensively. "Take one more step, Vance, and I’ll put a bullet through your skull before your dogs can squeeze their triggers."
Vance chuckled softly, a sound like dry autumn leaves scraping across concrete. "A mother's ferocious spirit. Admirable. But mathematically pointless. This submarine is already locked into our carrier vessel's tractor clamps. We are currently diving to twelve hundred meters, entering the perimeter of the Mariana Seamount Facility. If you fire that weapon, the ricochets will rupture the auxiliary oxygen tanks behind you. We all drown. But my men have rebreathers. You and the child do not."
May you like
Maya let out a soft cry. Elena’s heart tore in two, but she kept her weapon steady. "What do you want with my daughter?"
"I don't want your daughter, Elena," Vance said calmly, extending a gloved hand. "I want what was built into her blood. Hand her over. And I might allow you the courtesy of a clean, painless death."
