Chapter 62 - The Resurrected Patriarch
The pod hissed open with a blast of equalized pressure.
Ethan stepped forward first, shielding Clara behind him. His jaw was set, every muscle coiled for violence. The paralysis that had seized his limbs earlier was gone, replaced by a surge of pure, icy adrenaline.
They stood inside a cavernous, subterranean moon pool built into the belly of the dreadnought. Armed operatives in matte-black tactical gear surrounded the landing cradle, their assault carbines held at low-ready. Nobody fired. Nobody shouted. The discipline was absolute, terrifying in its silence.
At the edge of the catwalk stood a towering glass projection column. The blue-hued image of Julian Whitmore shimmered to life, the high-backed velvet armchair and the fragrant Swiss conservatory perfectly visible behind him.
"You have grown sharper, Ethan," Julian said, swirling the scotch in his glass. "Though I suppose having a Generation Nine shadow at your flank would sharpen anyone."
"You faked your death," Ethan said, his voice flat, dangerously calm. "The funeral. The will. The Sterling merger. You let Vanessa tear Whitmore House apart."
"I orchestrated it," Julian corrected mildly. "Vanessa was an arrogant instrument, blind to the larger board. Her father was worse. They believed the Apex Council belonged to the highest bidder. They did not understand that the Council is not an auction house—it is an engine of global order."
Clara stepped out from behind Ethan, her eyes blazing through tears of exhaustion. "You used us as bait. You let Marcus hunt us!"
"I needed to see if the bloodline was viable, Clara," Julian replied, without an ounce of remorse. "Marcus was obsolete. A blunt instrument from an older doctrine. But you two... and Naomi. Naomi was the true catalyst."
Julian leaned forward, his piercing blue eyes fixing on Ethan through the transmission.
"She was designed to protect the heir until the key matured. And now, my boy, the board is clear. Welcome to the inner circle."
"I'd rather burn it to the ground," Ethan spat.
May you like
Julian smiled coldly. "You won't have the luxury of choosing."
***
