Chapter 66
2149words
Zurich | Hotel Belvedere | Suite 1107
Morning (CET)
The morning light pushed gently through the edges of the blackout curtains, casting soft lines across the floor. The room was quiet, except for the low hum of Eli’s laptop and the occasional rustle of paper.
Kristina sat cross-legged on the carpet near the table, a pen tucked behind one ear, the printouts fanned around her like puzzle pieces. Lucian was in the armchair again, one leg crossed over the other, reading the corridor clearance data on his tablet. Eli leaned forward over the desk, tapping in a string of validation keys.
No one had said much for the past fifteen minutes. Not because there was nothing to say. But because they were all seeing it now.
Kristina broke the silence first.
“They changed the routing tags.”
Eli nodded without looking up. “Caught that too. Sections 6B and 9C were supposed to bypass security entirely. Now they loop through surveillance corridors.”
Lucian’s voice was calm, but sharp. “They’re sending us through checkpoints.”
Kristina looked up at both of them. “If we’d followed this exactly as planned, we’d have been logged. Traced. Maybe even flagged.”
Lucian turned the tablet around, showing a highlighted section. “And that’s not all. This file was signed by someone new. Kessler didn’t sign off on this.”
Eli looked up. “Not Dietrich or Erhart?”
Lucian shook his head. “Jakob Lentz. Internal risk division. He wasn’t at the table.”
Kristina’s brows drew in. “So it’s not that the deal changed—it’s that someone stepped in and quietly adjusted the costs.”
A beat passed.
Eli leaned back in the chair. “They’re making this a quid pro quo. We carry their risk for them, in exchange for what? Access? Leverage?”
Kristina’s voice was flat. “It’s not a partnership. It’s a trap with a nice cover letter.”
Lucian didn’t respond immediately. He just sat there a moment longer, the tablet resting in his lap. Then he set it down, stood, and crossed to the window.
Outside, Zurich glittered in the cold morning light—sleek, composed, diplomatic.
“Sinclair Dominion doesn’t make lopsided trades,” he said quietly. “We don’t owe them that kind of loyalty.”
Kristina’s voice was quiet. “So we walk?”
Lucian shook his head. “We tell them no. To their faces.”
A knock at the door.
Eli stood and opened it. Sebastian stepped in, dressed and alert, a phone in his hand.
“Status?” Lucian asked without turning.
“Ash and Vex are already downstairs,” Sebastian said. “Waiting on orders.”
Lucian glanced over. “Good. Call Kessler’s team. Tell them we want a face-to-face.”
“Tonight.”
Sebastian nodded and stepped out without another word.
Kristina looked over at Lucian, her eyes sharp. “You really think they’ll show?”
Lucian met her gaze. “They’ll show. They’re not stupid enough to risk losing us. Not yet.”
A long silence stretched between the three of them—quiet, sure.
They weren’t walking away.
They were walking in, with their eyes open.
Zurich | Kessler Villa Grounds | Private Estate Lounge
Evening (CET)
The room was elegant but unassuming—an old library converted into a private lounge, tucked behind a 19th-century villa owned by one of Kessler Group’s affiliated partners. The tall windows let in a soft gray light, diffused by gauzy curtains. A fire crackled in the hearth, adding a genteel contrast to the steel beneath the surface.
Lucian sat at one end of the long table, Eli to his right. Across from them, Fischer looked composed but wary. Lina Rehn sat beside him, her posture stiffer than the last time they'd met.
Kristina stood behind Lucian and Eli’s chairs, arms folded. Sebastian hovered further back, leaning against a polished support beam. Ash and Vex flanked the entrance quietly, dressed like part of the room, save for the careful way they watched everyone.
“I’m going to be direct,” Lucian said, voice even. “We won’t be proceeding under these terms.”
Fischer blinked. “Excuse me?”
“We reviewed the documents your team sent. The revisions are unacceptable. Routes altered. Access tags rerouted. Signatories changed.” He leaned back. “Either this was intentional or someone lost control of your operations. We just came to tell you in person.”
Lina’s lips parted, but she didn’t speak. Her eyes darted to the side, then lowered again.
Fischer looked genuinely thrown. “I was assured those were final and cleared. I reviewed them myself before they were sent—”
Eli reached into his coat and pulled out the folded printed documents. Calmly, he spread them out and slid them across the table.
Fischer hesitated, then took them.
His eyes tracked the contents. First confusion, then a frown. Then shock.
“No,” he muttered. “This isn’t what my team finalized. This—these signatures—” His gaze darted toward Lina. “This is not what we sent.”
Kristina watched Lina carefully. Her face was still, too still. Controlled, but in the wrong way—like a rehearsed performance trying not to sweat. Her knuckles whitened just slightly as she clutched the edge of the table.
Lucian didn’t take his eyes off Fischer. “If someone within Kessler is playing their own game, now is the time to tell us.”
Before Fischer could respond, the door opened.
A man in a butler’s uniform entered, holding a dark green bottle of wine. He walked calmly, almost too casually, toward the table with a folded cloth draped over his arm.
Kristina’s eyes snapped to him immediately.
On instinct, she pressed the comm at her wrist and spoke low.
“Did anyone order wine?”
Ash replied almost instantly, quiet but clipped.
“Negative.”
Sebastian, already watching the man, shifted his weight forward.
The conversation at the table carried on, Fischer now clearly rattled.
“Mr. Sinclair, I swear to you—this wasn’t authorized. If this came from our internal compliance division, then I need—”
The man with the wine reached to place the bottle in a silver cradle. As he adjusted his collar, his fingers brushed his neck.
That’s when Kristina saw it.
A tattoo, half-concealed by his collar. Barely a sliver showing—distinct, exact. A black ring of ink around an unbroken triangle, one edge jagged like a crack. Her breath caught.
She’d seen that mark before.
On the man she killed in California. The first one. The one whose neck she snapped just feet away from Lucian's bloodied body.
Something cold and electric surged up her spine. Her body moved before thought could catch up.
She stepped forward, swift and silent, and grabbed the man’s wrist just as he reached to set the wine down.
The room stopped.
The tension hit like a snapped wire.
Lucian rose halfway from his chair.
Sebastian was already in motion.
The Kessler guards by the door stiffened.
The man barely flinched. His eyes didn’t betray anything. But Kristina saw it—the flicker, the recognition. His calm wasn’t confusion. It was calculation.
Her grip tightened.
“Where did you get that tattoo?” she asked coldly.
Everyone in the room stared now. The wine bottle tipped slightly in its cradle.
The man smiled faintly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Fischer stood up. “He’s not one of ours.”
Ash was already drawing a weapon from under his coat, eyes locked on the man.
Kristina didn’t let go.
Lucian’s voice was low. Controlled. Dangerous.
“Sebastian.”
Sebastian was at Kristina’s side now. “We have a problem.”
The man in uniform finally spoke again, quieter this time. “You’re making a mistake.”
“No,” Kristina said, her voice low. “Last year, someone like him nearly killed Lucian. And last time, it ended in blood.”
The room held its breath.
And outside, the wind shifted—like something was watching.
The room froze.
Kristina’s grip was still tight around the butler’s wrist. The man tried to yank his hand free, but Kristina let him go.
That was when guns were drawn.
A voice snapped across the tension like a whip.
Lina Rehn.
Kristina took a slow step forward, sensing Lina’s change in posture.
Lina rose from her chair in a single, smooth motion. Not frantic. Not afraid. Her tone silenced the room more effectively than a gunshot.
Then she pulled one anyway.
A sleek black pistol appeared from beneath her blazer. She leveled it—alternately at Lucian Sinclair and Eli Voss.
Kristina stepped forward instantly, planting herself between them and the barrel. Lucian and Eli’s arms both extended toward her in instinctive unison—protective and firm.
Gasps rippled from the two guards by the door. One of them raised his weapon. Vex moved like a shadow, gun already drawn, aimed between eyes.
Fischer stood slowly from his seat, both palms raised in open confusion. “Lina, what the fuck are you doing?”
His voice cracked—not in fear, but betrayal.
Eli’s voice was sharp and mocking. “Don’t you see it, Fischer? She’s a traitor.”
Fischer turned toward him, stunned.
“She’s not one of you, Fischer,” Lucian added coldly.
Lina smiled faintly. “I was never one of them.”
Then she tilted her head. “Bravotek planted me years ago. Long before you ever sat in this room.”
The word dropped like a bomb.
“I was tasked to keep Kessler in check—sabotage their rise, derail potential deals. When the first talks with Sinclair Dominion started years ago, I made sure it fell through.”
Her voice was sharp now, cutting.
“You think Kessler failed on their own? No. I made sure Sinclair Dominion would never say yes. Then Bravotek came in—tried to offer a better deal.”
Lucian's gaze narrowed. “Last year.”
“Exactly. But you turned them down. Of course you did.” She shook her head. “So we improvised. The ambush on the coast—yes, that was us. We planned to abduct you, Mr. Sinclair. Not kill you. Just enough pressure to force Sinclair Dominion into compliance.”
Eli’s jaw tightened. “But someone intervened.”
Lina’s eyes flicked briefly toward Kristina.
“That stupid woman,” she muttered. “No one knew who she was. She wasn’t supposed to be there. She ruined everything.”
Kristina said nothing.
“So we lay low,” Lina continued. “Until we found out Kessler was trying again. Trying to make nice with Dominion. We couldn’t allow it. So I fed them false files. We’d abduct Eli and Kristina, blame it on Kessler. Destroy their credibility. Maybe even get Sinclair to take our offer in the aftermath.”
“You tried to offer us a deal last year,” Eli muttered. “We weren’t interested.”
Lina’s eyes flashed. “And that’s why we buried your name in the Kessler files. Why we leaked the smart-trigger prototype specs. Why we waited.”
She took a single step forward. “You refused us. But Kessler? All we had to do was feed them just enough rope to hang themselves with.”
Fischer stared at her, devastated. “Lina… we never wanted war with Sinclair. That’s not who we are.”
“But that’s who they are,” Lucian said, voice ice-cold. “And you gave them access to our table.”
Lina turned toward Fischer, sneering. “You’re asking me what I’m doing? Isn’t that what you tried to do with Eli years ago? You put a gun to his head. You’re not an angel, Fischer.”
The tension hit its peak. Every gun was drawn now—Sebastian, Ash, Vex, the real Kessler guards, all locked in a volatile triangle of distrust. One wrong breath would set off an avalanche of violence.
Kristina stepped forward again, lowering her gun an inch. Her voice was steady. “Don’t do this, Lina. You won’t win.”
“I already have,” she whispered.
But it wasn’t Lina.
One of the guards—Bravotek’s—had raised his rifle just a little too far. Vex didn’t hesitate. Two clean shots—center mass.
He dropped like a marionette.
Chaos erupted.
Together, Lucian and Eli shoved the table over in one smooth motion. Sebastian dragged Lucian back. Eli covered Kristina. Ash slammed the emergency override. The lights dropped to flickering red—their signal to move.
Lina vanished into the shadows behind a steel column.
Kristina moved to pursue—but Lucian’s hand caught her wrist.
“Kristina. Don’t,” he said. “She’s not worth it.”
Kristina didn’t respond.
The moment Lucian’s grip loosened, she was gone.
Not like a whisper—but like a blade loosed from its sheath.
Each step echoed with fury. Not the cold, methodical kind she’d been trained to master—but something hotter, older. Something that clawed up from the pit of her stomach and sharpened behind her eyes.
Lina had pulled a gun on both of them.
Eli, who had already been betrayed once. Lucian, who had only just come back.
In front of her.
And now the woman thought she could vanish into shadows?
Not tonight.
Kristina moved like fire tearing downhill—relentless, uncontainable, seething under her skin. The villa stretched before her—marble halls, iron staircases, carved columns and glass doors leading into gardens that now offered too many places to run.
But she didn’t care.
She wasn’t letting Lina Rehn out of her sight.
Not after this.
Not after the gun.
Not after that look in her eyes.
Not after what almost happened.
She would finish it.
Her choice was made. Her anger, undeniable.
—To be continued.
