Semua Bab ALHPA ABRAM: And the four daughter: Bab 61 - Bab 70

"Your lineage ends today, Thorne. Sign the transfer or the federal marshals will be the ones explaining to your grandkids why their trust funds just evaporated."Elara didn't blink as the old Alpha’s pen hovered over the digital pad. The Pit was silent, save for the hum of the subterranean ventilation. Twelve Elders sat like statues, watching the girl they once dismissed as a human plaything dismantle a century-old bloodline."You’re a cold bitch, Elara," Thorne spat. He signed. The haptic feedback on her tablet chimed—a billion dollars in assets shifted into her shell company."I’m the person holding the pen," Elara said, standing up. She straightened her charcoal blazer, but the room didn't stay still. The obsidian table tilted forty-five degrees. The faces of the Elders smeared into a grey blur. "I—""Elara?" Vane’s voice sounded miles away.The floor rushed up to meet her. The last sensation was the grit of the sand against her cheek and the sudden, frantic scrape of chairs agains

"Who authorized the exit of his vehicle? Answer me before I take your fingers!"Abram’s voice thundered through the garage, vibrating the concrete pillars. He stood over a slumped figure in the driver's seat of a black sedan. Marcus, the man who had moved billions for the Silas-Vane merger, sat with his head tilted at an impossible angle. A single, clean puncture mark sat at the base of his skull. No blood. Just a neat, professional kill."Sir, the sensors... they didn't trip. We thought he was just heading home," the guard stammered, his boots scraping against the oil-stained floor as he backed away.Abram slammed his fist into the roof of the sedan. The metal buckled with a screech. "He was my eyes on the Marcone accounts! You let a ghost walk into the most secure garage in the city and snuff him out!"Elara watched from the elevator bay, her hand resting on the cold steel of the frame. The air in the garage smelled of exhaust and ozone. The weight of the lockdown was supposed to ma

"What the fuck is this, Abram? Get your hands off the instruments."The medical wing smelled of copper and industrial bleach. Doctor Aris lay across his own examination table, his neck twisted at an angle that made the vertebrae grate. His eyes were wide, glassy, staring at nothing. Propped between his stiffening jaws was a single, vibrant blue cornflower. The petals looked wet. Fresh."Get back, Elara!" Abram shoved her toward the wall, his palm hitting her shoulder with enough force to make her teeth rattle. He didn't look at her. He crouched by the corpse, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the steel table. "He was the only one who knew the dosage. The only one. Vane! Lock the ventilation. Now!""The ventilation is fine, Abram. Look at his mouth. That’s not a Syndicate hit." Elara wiped a smudge of the doctor's blood from her sleeve. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm she hoped he couldn't hear. "The Syndicate uses piano wire or lead. This is... it’s a

"Get the fuck away from the glass!"Abram’s voice cracked like a whip across the suite. The sound of the primary window detonating followed a millisecond later. A high-velocity round punched through the reinforced pane, turning the three-inch thick laminate into a spray of diamond-sharp dust. The air pressure in the room shifted violently, sucking the heavy velvet curtains toward the jagged hole.Elara hit the floor, her palms skidding on the marble. Shards of glass sliced into her knees. Blood, hot and sudden, soaked into the hem of her white silk robe."Abram! Where the hell are they?""South-east roof. Six hundred yards." Abram lunged across the rug, his massive frame a blur of motion. He didn't grab her arm; he threw his entire weight over her, pinning her to the floorboards as a second round hissed through the opening and buried itself in the mahogany headboard above their pillows. Plaster dust rained down. "Don't move. Stay under me."His chest heaved against her spine. He was a

"Where the fuck is the access panel, Silas? I'm running out of air and patience!"Elara's voice was a jagged whisper, lost in the metallic drone of the sub-station. She shoved aside a stack of rusted crates, her knuckles scraping against the rough pine. The red emergency light pulsed, casting long, rhythmic shadows that made the pipes look like twitching limbs."Shut up and look for the yellow stencil," the Fixer rasped through the earpiece. The signal was degrading, buried under layers of concrete and lead shielding. "It’s hidden behind the intake for the secondary grid. If you miss it, you’re just a rat in a box when Abram seals the level.""I found it." Elara kicked a loose floorboard away. There, etched into the grime-caked metal, was a fading 'Y-14' stencil. She jammed her fingers into the narrow gap of the vent cover, pulling until the steel screeched. The grate popped free, hitting the floor with a hollow clang. "I’m in. Now give me the extraction coordinates.""Not so fast, ho