บททั้งหมดของ Billionaire's breeding vessel : บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

Chapter 71: The Unbroken WireThe tremor spread from Damien’s trigger finger up into his wrist, shaking the heavy steel sidearm until the barrel rattled against the bone of Julian’s skull.Inside Damien’s ribcage, the titanium pump let out a sharp, electric whine—forcing high-voltage pulses directly into his motor cortex, trying to slam the trigger back. But the real Damien held his hand locked, his own muscles tearing under the sheer, agonizing strain of two wills pulling on a single body."Pull the trigger, Damien," Dr. Richard Voss commanded, his raspy voice dropping into a cold, flat imperative. He leaned heavily on his silver cane, his pale eyes glaring at the struggling soldier. "The copy is obsolete. Do not waste precious neurological bandwidth on sentiment!""No..." Damien groaned through locked teeth. Sweat mixed with fresh blood dripped from his chin, falling onto Julian’s collar. "He's... my... brother.""Dad!" Jordan stepped closer, his small hand reaching up to grasp the

Chapter 73: The Ghost SignalEight months of quiet had turned the ocean into an old friend.On the wind-swept coast of Brittany, far from the concrete vaults of Normandy and the jagged granite peaks of the Bernese Alps, the air smelled of wet kelp, salt spray, and crushed pine needles. A small, whitewashed stone cottage sat on a cliff overlooking the Atlantic, its gray slate roof weathered by decades of winter gales.To the local villagers in the nearby fishing port, they were the Vane family—a quiet ex-pat writer, his wife, a brilliant remote researcher, and their eight-year-old son, living off a modest inheritance in peaceful isolation.Damien stood on the timber porch, a mug of black coffee steaming in his hand as he watched the tide wash over the dark granite rocks below. His tactical vest and sidearm were gone, replaced by a thick wool sweater and heavy denim jeans. Beneath his shirt, the long scar running across his sternum had faded to a pale, thin silver line—a quiet ghost o

Chapter 75: The Resonance EngineThe teenager stepped onto the cold steel deck, his bare feet leaving damp footprints on the polished floor.His eyes—a vivid, piercing violet—swept across the chamber with a cold, terrifying analytical efficiency. He didn't look at Dr. Thorne, nor did he look at the glowing digital cloud of Marcus’s source code suspended above the operating table. His gaze locked onto Damien, his head tilting at an unnerving, precise angle."Unit Zero," Dr. Thorne commanded, his thumb hovering over the diagnostic control unit. "Primary threat identified. Subdue the baseline."Unit Zero didn't hesitate. He moved with a speed that defied human biology, vanishing into a blur of grey neoprene and pale skin.CLANG.Damien barely brought his submachine gun up in time. Unit Zero’s bare forearm slammed into the weapon's barrel, shattering the steel receiver like brittle glass. The force of the impact threw Damien backward across the deck, crashing into a heavy diagnostic bench

Chapter 77: The Armada of the SovereignThe deep ocean was dead quiet, save for the metallic pinging of forty active sonar beams bouncing off the sub's titanium hull.PING... PING... PING...The blue light from the tactical displays painted the cabin in harsh, cold shadows. On the central radar grid, forty red markers formed a tight, geometric circle around their tiny interceptor, closing the perimeter yard by yard."Torpedo doors opening across all sectors," Julian said, his voice clipped and unnaturally calm—the quiet clarity of a man who knew they were staring into a firing squad. "Range three hundred yards. If they fire a single heavy acoustic homing line, the shockwave alone will crack our pressure hull."Damien leaned over the pilot’s console, his hand resting on the comms transmitter. "Are they receiving?""They’re receiving, but they aren't listening," Julian replied, tapping the encryption log. "They aren't responding to Syndicate override codes or standard NATO marine hailin

Chapter 79: The Dead Hand ProtocolThe rain lashed across the storm-swept deck of the Apex platform like thrown gravel, howling through the twisted steel framework of the ruined communications mast.Damien stood on the slick, blood-stained iron plates, his hands raised slowly to shoulder height. Twenty feet away, Dr. Aris Thorne stood braced against the gales, the heavy tactical sidearm in his right hand trained squarely on Damien’s chest. In his left, Thorne held a sleek, military-grade detonator, its single red LED pulsing in time with his shallow, ragged breath."You think you've won, Major," Thorne said, his voice rising above the shrieking wind. Rain streamed down the deep surgical scars along his jaw, glinting in the harsh hazard lights of the burning deck. "You think destroying forty warheads in the sky solves the equation. But you never understood Richard Voss's brilliance. He built redundancy into the blood.""The warheads are slag, Thorne," Damien said, his voice low, groun