Chapter 42: The Highland Countdown

The silence inside Grand Tier Box 12 was suffocating, broken only by the dramatic crescendo of Tosca rising from the orchestra pit below.

Nathan didn't move the barrel of his silenced pistol an inch from Lord Sterling’s neck. His storm-grey eyes burned with lethal, unyielding fury, his knuckles bone-white against the black steel grip.

"You think a biometric hostage threat gives you leverage?" Nathan’s voice was an icy, low threat that vibrated against the back of Sterling's skull. "I can take you apart piece by piece in this box, Sterling, and have your Highland guards surrendering before you can draw another breath."

Sterling’s cold smile never slipped. He slowly raised his right wrist, displaying a sleek, titanium band pulse-linked directly to his skin.

"Try it, Counselor," Sterling whispered smoothly. "My heart rate is synced directly to the automated lockdown protocols at the Inverness compound. If my pulse spikes above one-hundred-and-forty—or if my heart stops—the containment unit receives an automatic command to flush the oxygen from Evelyn’s chamber. You have twenty-four hours to sign the transfer documents, or you can retrieve her corpse."

Isabella felt the blood drain from her face, but she forced her body to remain steady. She stepped toward the table and picked up the silver locket.

She pressed the tiny side latch. The locket sprang open, revealing a faded photograph of a younger Evelyn holding a four-year-old Isabella, alongside a hand-carved inscription on the inner silver casing: To my little star—Love, Mama.

A surge of fierce, overwhelming emotion washed over Isabella, but she instantly channeled it into pure, diamond-hard resolve. She snapped the locket shut and looked straight into Sterling's ruthless eyes.

"You made one fatal mistake, Sterling," Isabella said, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp, quiet register that cut through the music. "You think my mother is a bargaining chip to force me onto my knees. But all you've actually done is give me her exact location."

Nathan’s jaw clenched. He pressed the gun barrel harder into Sterling's neck, forcing the older man's head forward. "Get out of here before my wife changes her mind about letting you leave alive."

Sterling chuckled softly, standing up with effortless aristocratic elegance as Nathan slowly stepped back, keeping the weapon leveled at his heart.

"Midnight tomorrow, Madam Chairwoman," Sterling murmured, adjusting his silk cuffs. "Bring the signed energy grid deeds to the Inverness estate, or watch your family bloodline end."

With a subtle nod, Sterling backed into the heavy velvet curtains and melted away into the dark corridors of the Opera House.

---

By 11:00 PM, the tactical command center inside Reed-Hayes’s London safehouse was buzzing with intense activity.

Large holographic blueprints of the Scottish Highlands estate were projected across the glass tables, showing a heavily fortified medieval castle surrounded by dense forests, high-voltage perimeter fences, and satellite surveillance domes.

Isabella stood at the head of the table, her silk opera gown replaced by a sleek, black tactical suit.

Nathan stood right beside her, his arms wrapped possessively around her waist from behind, his chin resting against her shoulder as they stared down at the layout.

"The pulse-link device on Sterling’s wrist is a dual-frequency relay," Isabella pointed out, her fingers tracing the digital security grid on the glass surface. "It sends a continuous encrypted ping to the main server in the castle's subterranean vault."

"Which means we can't kill Sterling, and we can't capture him until we isolate that server," Chief Miller reported, stepping up with satellite reconnaissance photos. "The compound is guarded by fifty former European special forces personnel. It’s an impenetrable fortress."

"No fortress is impenetrable," Nathan growled, his deep voice rich with dark, lethal promise as his grip tightened around Isabella. "Miller, prep the stealth transports and mobilize our strike team. We aren't signing a single deed, and we aren't waiting for midnight."

Isabella turned around within Nathan's arms, looking up into his burning grey eyes, her hands resting against his broad chest.

"We go in under the cover of the 3:00 AM storm," Isabella declared, her hazel eyes blazing with sovereign power. "We jam their satellite relay, extract my mother, and burn Lord Sterling's empire to the ground."

Nathan leaned down, his lips crushing against hers in a fierce, possessive kiss that sealed their deadly war plan.

"Your command is my law, Madam Chairwoman," Nathan whispered against her lips. "Let's go bring your mother home.”