Chapter 8 - THE FLIGHT TO GENEVAIt took them twenty minutes to neutralize the hit squad in Vance Tower. Julian moved through his own corporate headquarters like a phantom, utilizing blind spots in the architecture he had designed himself. When the final mercenary fell, Julian extracted the satellite codes from the bloody terminal and walked out without looking back.
Three hours later, Julian’s sleek Gulfstream G650 tore through the stratosphere at Mach 0.9, banking over the Atlantic.
Inside the luxurious cabin, the mood was tense. Maria was breaking down weapons on the mahogany table, oiling gears, checking sights. Julian sat opposite her, nursing a glass of scotch he didn't intend to drink. He was staring at a photo of Leo.
"We'll get him back, Julian," Maria said softly, snapping a magazine into place. It was the first time she had dropped the formalities.
Julian looked at her. Beneath the tactical gear and cold professionalism, she was the only person in his life who hadn't betrayed him. "I dragged you into a war, Maria. You were just supposed to be undercover security to catch my wife stealing jewelry."
"I took an oath to protect your family," she replied, locking eyes with him. "And I don't fail my missions. But you need to prepare yourself. If Alexander went to these lengths, he won't hesitate to use the child as a human shield."
Julian’s grip on the crystal glass tightened until his knuckles turned white. The glass shattered, cutting his palm, raining amber liquid and crystal onto the Persian rug. He didn't even wince.
"If he touches a single hair on my son's head," Julian whispered, "I won't just kill him. I will erase him from history. I will burn his mountain to the ground and bury his ashes under the rubble."
The pilot's voice cracked over the intercom. "Mr. Vance, we are on approach to Geneva. But sir... Air Traffic Control is denying us clearance. They say our transponder codes have been revoked by international authorities."
Julian grabbed a towel, wrapping his bleeding hand. "Alexander hacked the aviation databases. He's trying to force us to land at a military strip where his men are waiting."
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"Orders, sir?" the pilot asked nervously.
"Kill the transponder," Julian ordered coldly. "Take us down low. We're invading Swiss airspace."
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