Chapter 6
Chapter 6
The place where I took my last.
Monaco.
The exact coordinates where Julian's private jet supposedly plunged into the Mediterranean Sea three years ago.
Elias didn't waste a second. Within an hour, his private supersonic jet was tearing across the Atlantic.
He sat alone in the cabin, cleaning and reloading his sidearms with terrifying, mechanical precision.
Mia was safe at a secure compound in Switzerland, completely hidden from the world. Now, all that mattered was Clara.
When the jet landed in Monaco, Elias bypassed customs, stepping directly into a waiting speedboat driven by his most trusted mercenary.
"The coordinates are five miles offshore, sir," the driver yelled over the roaring engines. "There's a massive private yacht anchored there. No flag. No transponder."
"Approach quietly," Elias ordered. "Cut the engines a mile out. I'll swim the rest."
Dressed in a sleek, black tactical suit, Elias slipped into the freezing ocean water under the cover of a moonless night.
He swam silently, the massive silhouette of the yacht looming larger with every stroke.
He scaled the anchor chain, slipping over the guardrail and onto the deck without making a sound.
The yacht was eerily quiet. There were no guards on patrol. No music. Just the sound of the ocean waves hitting the hull.
Elias moved like a shadow down the starboard corridor, his weapon drawn.
He approached the master suite, the doors slightly ajar.
He kicked the door open, aiming his gun into the room.
But he lowered it instantly in absolute shock.
Julian was sitting in a leather armchair in the center of the room, sipping a glass of scotch.
He looked perfectly relaxed, completely unguarded.
"You're late, Elias," Julian smiled.
"Where is she?" Elias snarled, stepping into the room.
"Oh, Clara is perfectly safe," Julian said, taking another sip. "But I didn't bring you here to kill her. I brought you here to show you what she’s been hiding."
Julian pressed a button on a remote.
A large screen on the wall flickered to life, showing Clara strapped to a chair in a glass room.
But she wasn't crying. She wasn't terrified.
She was looking directly into the camera with a cold, calculating glare.
"Tell him, darling," Julian said into a microphone.
May you like
On the screen, Clara’s sweet, innocent voice was gone, replaced by a chilling, commanding tone.
"I'm sorry, Elias," Clara said, resting a hand on her perfectly flat, un-pregnant stomach. "But the game is over."
