Semua Bab The Billionaire Alpha's Revenge: Bab 51 - Bab 60

The air inside Black Lab 7, Catherine Sterling's clandestine R&D fortress in the Nevada desert, smelled of sterile ozone and chilled, recycled air. It was a place of absolute order, where the only sound was the hushed, polite hum of quantum servers and high-powered ventilation. Here, Catherine was the Alpha.She stood in the central observation theater, looking down through three-inch-thick ballistic glass into a sealed containment chamber. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe, practical bun, and her face, illuminated by the cold blue light of the monitors, was a mask of intense concentration. Inside the chamber, a robotic arm was meticulously manipulating a single, glowing drop of amber liquid—a sample of the Fenris-Rage they had acquired."The baseline analysis is... unsettling," Dr. Aris, her lead biologist, murmured beside her. He was a thin, nervous man whose intellect was rivaled only by his anxiety. "This isn't a drug, Catherine. It's a key.""Ex

Aria’s "nest" was a refrigerated cave of glowing screens. The only light came from the twenty monitors that surrounded her, and the only sounds were the persistent thrum of server fans and the rhythmic, aggressive click-clack of her mechanical keyboard. The air smelled of stale coffee, energy drinks, and the faint, coppery scent of overheated electronics. She hadn't slept in thirty-six hours. She didn't care. She was hunting.The Fae transportation—the "Glimmer-Folk," as the Night Market contract called them—had been impossibly clean. No video trace, no heat signature, no physical residue. But to Aria, the digital world was just as real as the physical one, and nothing moved through it without leaving a ripple.She had been analyzing the data logs from the Nevada lab's local network at the exact moment the containers arrived. And she found it. A single packet of data, lost in the noise. It was less than a kilo

In his sterile, pressurized observation room miles away, Lorian, the Auditor, watched the data-stream from Ivan stabilize. The coordinates from the "Target Lock" function glowed on his primary screen: a deep, subterranean vault, precisely where his intelligence had predicted. Ivan, his perfectly programmed asset, had succeeded. The cost—the asset’s capture—was calculated and acceptable."The heart is located," Lorian spoke to the empty room. His voice was a flat monotone, registering no triumph, only the conclusion of a formula. "Authorize the 'Wallbreakers'."He touched a console. Far across the city, an unmarked, armored transport truck, disguised as a municipal utilities vehicle, pulled away from a curb. Inside, six figures sat in absolute, disciplined silence. They were not thugs. They were Lorian’s surgical instrument.The "Wallbreakers" were his anti-supernatural elite. Each was clad in matte-black, non-reflective ceramic armor, their hel

The wake of the twin crises—the Wallbreaker assault and the Fae negotiation—left a sudden, almost unnerving calm. It was the eye of the storm. Ivan was gone, the unstable subjects were gone. For the first time in months, the manor was not under immediate, active threat.Jack used the lull, not to rest, but to build."Urban Fangs Security Solutions" was formally activated. The headquarters was no longer just a clean room; it was a humming, vibrant nerve center. Jack stood on a mezzanine, watching the main operations floor.He saw "Iron Fist," his new Chief of Operations, standing before a tactical board. The man’s thousand-dollar suit was rumpled, his tie was loosened, but he was pointing with authority, directing three "Rapid Response" teams on a logistics run. He had taken to his new role with the ferocity of a wolf defending a kill. The promotion had cemented his loyalty not just to Jack, but to the future Jack had promised.

The command center was plunged into a terrifying, frozen silence. The photo of Richard, the Amazon, the 'Fallen Star'—all of it evaporated.It was a checkmate."The Richard photo..." Catherine said, her voice a low, furious whisper. "It was an emotional distraction. While we were in here, arguing about a ghost, Lorian was arming a city-killer."Aria's hands were a blur, her face illuminated by the terrifying red glow of the map. "The resonance is building exponentially. It's feeding on itself, growing stronger every second. It'll reach critical mass and discharge.""When?" Jack's voice was cold steel."Seventy-two hours," Aria said, her voice barely audible. "Maybe less. Seventy-one hours, forty minutes."Ben Carter stumbled into a chair. "What does that... what does that mean?""It means," Catherine said, stepping up to the map, her mind already calculating the fallout, "everything electric in a five-mile radius of this house is fried. Instantly. Our servers. My lab. The city's hospi