Chapter 79

POV: Liam

The facility didn't just feel empty; it felt hollowed out. The silence left behind by the Julian Vane AI was a heavy, physical thing, a void where a god had once lived. Arthur Vance was already moving, his fingers dancing across a handheld terminal as he scrambled the local perimeter sensors.

"The Pension Board's contractors are landing at the geothermal plant four miles East," Arthur said, his voice clipped. "They aren't here for a deposition. They’ve been authorized to use 'extraordinary measures' to recover the Sterling lifeboat fund. To them, you aren't people—you’re the human passwords to three billion dollars."

I looked at Isabella. She was standing by the window, her silhouette sharp against the moonlight. She looked different. The slight, constant tension in her shoulders had vanished. She was breathing with her whole body, her chest rising and falling in a slow, deep rhythm that made my own heart ache with a strange, fierce relief.

"The routing codes," she said, turning to look at me. "They were embedded in the fusion, weren't they? That’s why my father wanted the archive flushed into me."

"He didn't want the board to have them," I said. "He knew that if the money stayed in the Vane-Sterling system, it would eventually be clawed back by the creditors or the lawyers. He wanted it to be yours to give back."

"If they catch us, they’ll extract those codes," Arthur warned, throwing a set of keys to a rugged, modified SUV to me. "And they won't use a chair and a sweater to do it. We have to move. Now."

We ran for the garage. The air outside was a brutal, icy slap, the wind howling across the lava fields like a wounded animal. I ushered Isabella into the passenger seat and climbed behind the wheel, the engine of the heavy 4x4 roaring to life with a sound that seemed to echo for miles in the desolate landscape.

"Where are we going?" I asked, throwing the car into gear and tearing out of the facility.

"The Blue Lagoon isn't just a tourist trap," Arthur said from the backseat, his laptop open. "The main geothermal pumping station has a high-frequency transmitter. If we can get within range, we can broadcast the routing codes to the independent pension ombudsman in London. Once the money is in their hands, the board loses its standing. They won't have a reason to hunt you."

"And if we don't make it to the transmitter?" Isabella asked.

"Then the codes stay in your head," I said, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. "And we become the most hunted 'passwords' in history."

The drive was a nightmare of jagged rock and shifting mist. The road was little more than a track through the moss, and the SUV bounced and bucked over the volcanic ruts. Behind us, I saw the twin beams of light—high-powered searchlights cutting through the dark.

"They're on us," Arthur said, looking at his screen. "Two fast-attack vehicles. They’re closing the gap."

I pushed the throttle, the tires spinning on the slick, black gravel. I didn't have a weapon. I didn't have a security team. I only had the weight of the metal beneath me and the girl beside me.

"Liam, look," Isabella said, pointing ahead.

The geothermal plant rose out of the mist like a futuristic cathedral, its pipes glowing with a faint, internal heat. But between us and the plant was a bridge—a narrow, concrete span over a river of boiling, geothermally heated water.

And at the far end of the bridge, a third vehicle was waiting.

"They cut us off," I muttered.

I looked at the rearview mirror. The pursuit was less than a mile back. We were boxed in.

"The transmitter," I said, looking at Isabella. "Can you do it from here? If we get close enough?"

"I need a hardline or a direct line of sight for the biometric burst," she said. She looked at the bridge, then at the men stepping out of the car at the far end. They were armed, their rifles glinting in the moonlight. "Liam, if they get the codes, they won't give the money back to the employees. They’ll use it to restart the project. They’ll build another Medusa."

"I know," I said.

I looked at the dashboard, then at the heavy, reinforced bumper of the SUV. I saw a small service path to the right, a treacherous trail that led down toward the edge of the boiling river, right beneath the transmitter’s primary array.

"Arthur, can you jump the signal if I get us under the dish?"

"It’s a fifty-foot drop to the water if you miss the ledge, Liam!" Arthur shouted.

"I'm not going to miss," I said.

I didn't slow down. I veered off the road, the SUV tilting at a terrifying angle as we plummeted down the rocky slope. Isabella didn't scream. She reached out and grabbed my hand, her fingers interlocking with mine.

"Do it," she whispered.

The SUV hit the ledge with a bone-jarring impact, the suspension screaming in protest. We were directly beneath the massive, rotating dish of the plant. Above us, the men on the bridge were shouting, their flashlights dancing over the roof of our car.

"I have a signal!" Arthur yelled. "Isabella, the biometric handshake! Now!"

Isabella closed her eyes. I watched her face, expecting to see the old strain, the flicker of the machine. But there was nothing but a calm, focused intensity. She wasn't fighting a system; she was directing a flow.

"Codes recognized," Arthur whispered, his eyes fixed on the progress bar. "Handshake confirmed. Routing to the London Ombudsman... 40%... 60%..."

A bullet shattered the rear window of the SUV.

"They're coming down the slope!" I said, reaching into the backseat for a heavy wrench—the only weapon I had.

"90%..." Arthur’s voice was a frantic staccato. "95%..."

The SUV rocked as one of the pursuit vehicles rammed us from behind, trying to push us off the narrow ledge and into the scalding steam of the river below.

"Done!" Arthur screamed. "The money is gone! It’s in the employee trust! The codes are deleted from the system!"

I didn't wait. I shoved the SUV into reverse, slamming into the front of the vehicle behind us with enough force to stall their engine. Then, I threw it back into drive, flooring the engine as we tore up the opposite side of the slope, bypassing the bridge entirely.

We cleared the ridge, the lights of the plant fading behind us into the white mist. We didn't stop until we were miles away, deep in the heart of a lava field where the road simply ended.

I killed the engine.

The silence that followed was absolute. No sirens. No hum. No shouting. Just the sound of the wind and the ticking of the cooling metal.

"Is it gone?" I asked, my hands finally shaking as I let go of the wheel.

"The money is safe," Arthur said, leaning back and closing his laptop. "The Sterling Pension Fund is restored. The board has nothing to claim. You’re officially the most hated man in New York, Liam. And the poorest."

I looked at Isabella. She was leaning her head back against the seat, a small, weary smile on her lips.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"Empty," she said. She looked at me, her eyes bright in the dark. "It’s the most wonderful feeling in the world."

I reached out and touched her cheek. Her skin was warm. Real. No sensors, no data, no legacy. We were two people in a broken car at the end of the world, with no money, no names, and nowhere to go.

"What now, Lee?" she asked.

"Now," I said, looking at the first light of dawn breaking over the Icelandic peaks. "We find a place where they don't have a library card."

The cliffhanger wasn't a threat. It was the sound of a phone—not a burner, not a Vane device, but Arthur’s private line.

"It’s Marcus," Arthur said, handing the phone to me.

I took it. "Marcus? We’re clear. The money is transferred."

"I know," Marcus’s voice said. He sounded tired. "But you should know something. Eleanor didn't stay in the ward. She’s gone, Liam. She didn't follow you to Iceland. She headed south."

"South where?"

"To the one place your father never told you about," Marcus said. "The original lab. In Virginia. She’s not trying to get the money back, Liam. She’s trying to restart the core from the primary backup. She doesn't need Isabella anymore. She has the DNA samples from the 2018 surgery."

I felt the blood drain from my face.

"She’s going to make a new one," I whispered.

"She’s going to make a version that doesn't have a heart to fight back," Marcus said. "You saved the girl, Liam. But the monster is still in the basement."

I looked at Isabella. She saw it in my eyes. The war wasn't over. It had just changed shapes.