Chapter 17 - Álvaro's Desperate Gambit
A blinding flash of cobalt-blue light illuminated the entire laboratory, accompanied by a deafening hum like the crack of lightning inside a closed room.
The conductive copper mesh hidden beneath the laboratory's vinyl flooring surged with fifty thousand volts of pulsed electromagnetic energy. The mercenaries didn't even have time to scream; the intense pulse instantly fried every piece of tactical electronics they carried—their radios, their night-vision goggles, and their taser safeties—while sending an incapacitating neuromuscular shock straight through their rubber soles.
The three men collapsed to the floor like severed puppets, convulsing weakly as their muscles locked up in harmless, total temporary paralysis.
"System discharge successful," Marcos said calmly, shining a pocket flashlight onto the writhing operatives. "Total recovery time for their nervous systems: approximately forty-five minutes. Plenty of time for the SWAT team Uncle Arthur alerted to arrive."
Within twelve minutes, the courtyard outside was blazing with red and blue emergency strobes. Federal marshals and metropolitan police stormed the building, disarming and handcuffing the incapacitated mercenaries.
Yet, fifty miles away, in a minimum-security federal holding facility on the state line, another game was unfolding.
Álvaro Vance-Sterling sat across from a shadowy visitor in the dimly lit glass visitation booth. Álvaro was a ghost of his former pompous self; his tailored Italian suits were replaced by an ill-fitting orange jumpsuit, his manicured hair disheveled, his eyes hollow with sleepless, paranoid frenzy.
The man on the other side of the glass was Julian Vance—Álvaro’s estranged older brother and the patriarch of the European branch of the Vance dynasty.
"They raided Hector Sterling’s estate an hour ago, Álvaro," Julian said coldly, resting his manicured hands on the steel divider. "Hector is in custody. Your little illegitimate brats and that peasant woman you abandoned have brought down the entire house of cards."
Álvaro’s hands trembled against the tabletop. A venomous, hysterical sneer twisted his pale lips. "They think they won. They think because they humiliated me on television and took my bank accounts, they are safe."
"They have the Prometheus source code, Álvaro. Our family’s entire European defense contract relies on that architecture. If we don't recover it, the Vance name is finished across the continent."
Álvaro leaned forward, his bloodshot eyes gleaming with sickening malice. "The source code isn't everything, Julian. You want to destroy Lucía? You want to bring those arrogant little bastards to their knees once and for all?"
"What do you know?" Julian asked, narrowing his eyes.
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"The Blue Folder wasn't the only secret Lucía’s father left behind," Álvaro whispered, pressing his forehead against the scratch-resistant glass. "Lucía never knew the truth about where those twins actually came from. She thinks they're just natural prodigies. She thinks they were born of love."
A terrifying smile spread across Álvaro’s cracked lips. "Go to the vault in Geneva. Box 404. Find the Miller Genetic Heritage File. When the world finds out what Marcos and Mateo really are... the law won't protect them. The law will lock them in a cage."
