Chapter 25 - The Empire StrikesThe tarmac was absolute chaos. The blinding halogen lights were dead. Dozens of mercenaries were running frantically in the freezing fog, their radios emitting nothing but loud, piercing static.
We moved like ghosts through the shadows. Sofia covered our six, dropping two guards with silent, perfect precision before they even knew we were there. We reached the base of the Gulfstream's stairs.
I set Elara down for just a second. "Close your eyes, baby. Keep your hands over your ears."
Three guards emerged from the fog, charging the plane.
Sofia and I moved in perfect synchronization. The muzzle flashes illuminated the darkness like lightning. Within three seconds, the guards were on the ground, and the path was clear.
We rushed up the stairs and sealed the heavy cabin door behind us.
"The cockpit is locked out!" I yelled, rushing to the pilot's seat. The dashboard was dead, caught in the crossfire of the AI war.
Sofia threw herself into the co-pilot seat. She ripped off her diamond necklace, snapping the pendant open to reveal a tiny, glowing micro-USB drive. "Override protocol, Adrian! Boot it up!"
She jammed the drive into the jet's emergency diagnostic port. This was our true insurance policy. A completely analog, closed-loop reboot system I had built for exactly this nightmare.
The dashboard lit up. The engines whined, coughing before roaring back to life with immense, furious power.
"We have manual control!" I shouted over the noise, throwing the throttle forward.
The massive jet lurched forward. I didn't wait for clearance. I didn't taxi. I aligned the nose with the runway and slammed the thrust to maximum.
Out the window, I saw Victoria Sterling bleeding from her forehead, standing on the tarmac, screaming orders at her men to fire. Bullets began to ping against the titanium hull, but the G650 was too fast, and the armor plating was too thick.
We lifted off the ground, ascending rapidly into the dark, freezing sky, leaving the crippled black site far below us.
Once we reached thirty thousand feet, the cabin pressure stabilized. Elara was sitting in the back, trembling but unharmed, wrapped in a blanket.
Sofia sank back into the co-pilot chair, exhaling a long, shaky breath. "We thought we won, Adrian. We thought it was over."
I looked out at the dark horizon, my blood boiling with a new, terrifying resolve. Elias Thorne was a thug. But Victoria Sterling and her syndicate? They were the puppet masters of the world. And they had made the fatal mistake of coming for my family.
"It's not over," I said, reaching over to engage the autopilot. I looked at Sofia, the titanium spine I had forged turning into something much sharper, much more dangerous. "They wanted to see how the Moretti Foundation operates in the dark? We're going to show them. We aren't going on vacation, Sofia."
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She looked at me, a cold, beautiful smile touching her lips. "Where are we going?"
"We’re going to war."
