Chapter 7 - The Trap is Sprung
The main terminal screen flickered, splitting into four distinct quadrants displaying live infrared drone feeds of the financial district above.
"Vanguard tactical units have breached the perimeter of the subterranean parking garage," ECHO announced, its calm, synthesized voice cutting through the hum of the server racks. "They are deploying heavy breach charges on the secondary blast door."
"How long until they get through?" Julian asked, unholstering his firearm and checking the magazine with a practiced click.
"Approximately four minutes and twelve seconds," ECHO replied instantly.
I stood beside the central console, my hands resting on the cold glass surface. Just a few hours ago, I was a quiet, grieving widow mourning a man I thought I had known for only a few months. Now, looking at the glowing red dots of armed mercenaries closing in on our position, I realized that the man I married had been a titan of the shadows—and he had chosen me to inherit his war.
"We aren't going to run," I said, my voice cutting through the room with a surprising, cold clarity that made both Eleanor and Julian turn to look at me.
Eleanor raised a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Oh? And what do you propose we do, Mrs. Thorne? Invite them in for tea and board games?"
"No," I replied, staring directly at the live tactical feeds. "Carl spent his whole life playing defense. He spent years hiding from these people, waiting for the cancer to finish him off. But I am not Carl. And I am not going to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder."
I turned to the glowing blue sphere of the AI. "ECHO. Can you override the ventilation system in the parking garage?"
"Affirmative," ECHO replied. "I can flood the subterranean chamber with a high-density, non-lethal paralytic gas within ten seconds."
"Do it," I commanded. "And lock all internal bulkheads except Sector Four. Route them into the central assembly hall."
"Executing command," ECHO responded smoothly.
On the monitors, we watched as the Vanguard mercenaries successfully blew the secondary blast door off its hinges, rushing into the chamber with weapons raised and tactical lights cutting through the darkness.
The moment the last operative crossed the threshold, the overhead vents hissed violently. A thick, white mist poured down from the ceiling like a sudden avalanche.
On the screens, the mercenaries began shouting frantically, dropping their weapons as their knees buckled. Within thirty seconds, all twelve heavily armed operatives collapsed onto the cold concrete, completely unconscious.
Julian let out a low whistle, looking at me with a newfound expression of profound respect. "Well. I think Carl would have been very proud of that move."
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"They're just the vanguard," Eleanor noted, though her lips curved into a sharp, approving smile. "Viktor Vance himself won't be far behind. He never sends his best men without wanting to see the blood himself."
"Good," I said, sliding the heavy platinum ring further down my finger. "Let him come. Tell ECHO to open the front doors."
