It was 3:47 a.m. when the breach occurred.
The Draxon Tower a fortress of glass, steel, and secrets roared to life with klaxons and emergency lockdowns. From his high-rise command room, Elias Thorne stood motionless, watching silent footage of masked mercenaries slipping past guards with ghostlike precision.
They weren't here for tech.
They were here for him.
"Activate Protocol Erebus," he said calmly to Jude.
The lights dimmed, doors sealed, and an entire floor of operations submerged into blackout. Jude didn't blink.
"Sir... they know the vault schematics."
Elias narrowed his eyes. "Then let's give them a different blueprint to die in."
Fifteen Hours Earlier, Magritte's Loft
Magritte sat across from Elias, legs folded under her, a file in hand. On the floor between them: photographs, shredded blueprints, encrypted drives.
"These are all the Guild's financial backers," she said. "Some tied to off-shore shell corps. Others? Ghost names."
Elias leaned in. "And Adrien?"
"Still moving. He's heading to Berlin after Zurich."
Elias smiled bitterly. "That snake keeps slithering."
She touched his cheek. "We need to hit first."
His fingers brushed hers. "No. We need to hit last."
And with that, a kiss one that silenced everything else for a moment. It wasn't gentle, nor soft. It was the kiss of two people who'd both burned and still chose fire.
Flashback Thirteen Years Ago, A rainy alley in Marrakesh.
Adrien Vos and Elias Thorne crouched beneath a rusted balcony, clothes torn, adrenaline high. They were brothers in blood then, just out of a failed arms exchange with a Middle Eastern cartel.
"We nearly died," Elias coughed.
Adrien smirked. "But we didn't."
"Why do we always survive?"
"Because we're too angry to die."
They laughed then.
It was the last time Elias would ever call him friend.
Back to Present –Draxon Tower, 4:05 a.m.
The first mercenary made it into the data wing.
He didn't make it back out.
Lewis silent, brutal, armed was waiting in the shadows. And as the merc's body hit the ground, he whispered, "Message delivered."
Jude watched from surveillance. "They're splitting. Room Alpha-12 is next."
"Let them come," Elias replied.
Then to Magritte: "Are you ready?"
She loaded a pistol, no hesitation. "I was born ready."
Together, they stepped into the dark hallway, flanked by encrypted walls and decades of Draxon secrets.
Valerie faced a mirror, draped in a wine-red silk gown. Behind her, Adrien poured two glasses of something gold and dangerous.
"Tonight was the strike," he said.
"And tomorrow?"
"We finish it."
Valerie turned, eyes unreadable. "When he falls, what then?"
Adrien studied her. "Then we erase him. Every legacy, every breath."
She paused. "And me?"
He hesitated.
Then: "You were always meant to rise."
But even as he spoke, Adrien saw it the shadow of doubt in her eyes.
Lazarus glowed now, humming in alien rhythm.
Elias stood before it, whispering:
"They think this is just tech... but you're more than that, aren't you?"
A pulse. A flicker.
Jude's voice rang through the comm: "Sir... we just intercepted a satellite feed. They're broadcasting your identity globally. Framing you for the Zurich implosion."
Elias smiled.
"Let them."
Final Scene Global Broadcast Intercept
Across Times Square, Piccadilly Circus, and Tokyo's Shibuya screens, the world saw a face.
Elias Thorne.
Words flashed, "WORLD'S MOST DANGEROUS MAN. WANTED IN 38 COUNTRIES. NEW WORLD ENEMY."
But Elias stood, fire behind his eyes, watching the footage play.
Beside him, Magritte said softly, "They made you the villain."
And Elias whispered, almost reverently, "Good."
Because this was not the end.
It was the beginning of his rise to legend.