Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Cold Compromise : Kabanata 81 - Kabanata 90

Chapter 83: The Thermal Trap The frigid air burned through Luca’s lungs as if the mountain itself was trying to freeze him from the inside out. Every breath felt sharp, metallic, and painful. Beside him, Ethan’s steps were uneven and unsteady, each movement sending a jolt of agony through the wound in his side. The two men moved south in silence, descending the last of the steep mountain slopes until the terrain finally levelled out into the long, winding asphalt of the Route Napoleon. The road was abandoned at this altitude. Desolate. A narrow strip of cracked pavement cutting through towering forests of pine and fir. Frost clung to the branches and sparkled in the faint sunlight. Nothing moved. Not even the birds. The air was too cold for anything to linger. It was the fastest path to the coast, which made it the most dangerous one to take. Ethan leaned heavily against Luca’s shoulder. His breathing was shallow and shaky, as if every inhale scraped against raw bone. “We have to

Chapter 85: Borrowed Time The scent of burning wood and resin lingered in the cold air, sharp and acrid, as Luca and Ethan raced down the slope away from the Old Sawmill. Smoke curled behind them, twisting with the wind, marking the inferno they had left in their wake. For a brief moment, the fire had bought them precious minutes, but it had also broadcast their presence to any observer with eyes in the valley. Ethan’s side throbbed with every step, each breath a blade cutting into his lungs. “We need a vehicle, Luca,” he panted, gripping his side with one hand while leaning on Luca with the other. “We can’t cross France on foot. We need at least an hour of driving to even stand a chance.” Luca scanned the terrain, the dense pine and oak lining the mountainside. Their footsteps were deliberate, leaving a trace barely as they moved parallel to the Route Napoleon. The path was rough, uneven, and sharp with roots and stone, but it allowed them to stay close to the road without being

Chapter 87: Crash Site The Renault 4x4 roared like a wounded beast, engine screaming in protest as Luca pressed it up the steep, rocky service road. Gravel spattered against the undercarriage, and the tyres clawed at loose stones, hurling them into the shadowed forest with every lurch. Each jolt sent a fresh wave of pain racing across Ethan’s ribs, and he gritted his teeth against it. The cold and exhaustion had left his body fragile, but adrenaline made him feel impossibly alive. They were climbing toward a fate that felt equal parts desperation and design. Luca’s mind was a razor-sharp machine, cutting through variables, calculating risks. There was no turning back. Maxwell’s helicopter had pinned the D22 below, the bridge over the ravine a deadly fulcrum. The only way past her was to throw a chaotic variable so extreme that her precision would be useless. Chaos was their shield. When the trees parted, the Renault burst onto the D22. Sunlight struck the windshield in blinding s

Chapter 88: Final Temptation Luca slammed the brakes so hard the Renault shuddered like an animal struck in the spine. The tyres skidded over gravel, then locked on the narrow mountain road overlooking the pale lights of Menton. Dust rose in a slow cloud around them, drifting like smoke from a dying fire. The night was quiet except for the hissing engine and the distant hum of the city below, glowing faintly against the Mediterranean darkness. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They sat in the stopped car, suspended between two impossible choices, two futures that could never exist at the same time. “She knew,” Luca whispered finally, the words breaking out of him as something dragged from a deep wound. His grip tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned bone-white. “Maxwell knew the money wouldn’t stop us. She knew threats to our lives wouldn’t work. But Elena…” He exhaled, the sound hollow. “Elena’s freedom—that’s the final, impossible choice.” Ethan lean

Chapter 90: TmCommand Hub The room erupted the moment they stepped inside. There was no breath of hesitation, no pause, no chance to negotiate or speak or explain. Violence moved faster than thought. The air filled with a sharp, electric charge that always came before a fight—a shift in gravity, in temperature, in instinct. The first DoJ operative barely had time to blink before Luca reached him. Luca grabbed the man by the collar, spun him around, and drove his face into the main surveillance screen. Glass cracked in a spiderweb pattern. The feed to the Consulate Tower flickered and then died completely, blacked out by the force of the impact. The operator slumped forward, unconscious, his headset dangling off one ear. Ethan was already moving. He had nothing left except adrenaline and disciplined muscle memory, but sometimes that was enough. He angled his body so his injured ribs stayed protected and slammed his shoulder into the second nearest agent. The blow sent the man tumb