Chapter 7 - The Alpine Trap
Two weeks later, Chloe touched down via private jet in St. Moritz, Switzerland, ostensibly to inspect the European subsidiary's winter acquisitions, but secretly to draw out the remaining sleeper agents tied to Elena’s offshore network.
The winter wind howling across the snow-draped Alps was brutal, dropping temperatures well below zero. Her security detail—four elite ex-military operatives hired directly by Arthur—scouted the perimeter of the secluded glass chalet overlooking the frozen valley.
"Miss Vance, thermal imaging is picking up anomalous movement in the tree line approximately five hundred meters out," her chief of security, Vance’s most trusted veteran, reported over the secure comms earpiece.
Chloe stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass window, holding a cup of black coffee, watching her own reflection merge with the snowy wilderness outside. "Let them come," she murmured calmly. "Elena is desperate. Desperate people make sloppy tactical errors."
Suddenly, the chalet's primary power grid flickered and died. The smart-home lighting systems blinked off, plunging the sprawling living room into deep shadows, illuminated only by the faint orange glow of the stone fireplace.
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Before the backup generator could kick in, the massive front glass window didn't just break—it exploded inward in a shower of diamond-like shards. Three masked operatives dropped through the opening, weapons drawn, moving with lethal, calculated precision.
Chloe didn't scream. She didn't run. She simply stepped backward into the shadows, her hand slipping into her blazer pocket to grip the cold steel of a compact firearm her father had insisted she learn to use.
