Chapter 604
Chapter 604:
“Simon,” Eliza said. Her voice was stripped of all human warmth, yet vibrating with a terrifying, absolute clarity. “Gideon wants me there, and he is holding the only card that matters. But a frontal assault on that castle is suicide. We are not walking into his slaughterhouse blindly. Initiate Plan B. I want a decoy PMC team to stage a highly visible perimeter breach on the north ridge — draw his heavy artillery out. While they are distracted, our elite extraction squad moves silently through the south ravine. Tell the team to gear up. We are flying to Geneva tonight p>
Just as Simon confirmed her orders, Eliza’s private line buzzed with an urgent, encrypted signal. Adrian Vance.
“Abort the castle assault, Eliza!” His voice was strained and breathless. “It’s a trap. My sources just confirmed it. The Citadel is a ghost town. All his primary assets — including Wendy Koch — were moved out six hours ago. He’s left a skeleton crew and enough explosives to level a mountain. He wants you to attack an empty fortress p>
Eliza’s blood ran cold. She had nearly sent her best men into a death trap.
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“Where is he?” she demanded, her voice a low growl.
“That’s the checkmate move,” Adrian said grimly. “He’s not hiding. He’s en route to Monaco. Prince Edward is hosting a private gala aboard his family’s superyacht, The Sovereign, tonight. Gideon is the guest of honor. He’s putting himself in the open, surrounded by the most powerful people in Europe. You can’t touch him there without causing an international incident p>
Eliza’s mind raced, connecting the pieces with terrifying speed. The castle was the bait. The yacht was the real stage. Gideon wasn’t simply trying to kill her — he was trying to publicly humiliate and neutralize the Koch empire.
“Get me the schematics for that yacht,” Eliza commanded, her plan reshaping with lethal precision. “And get me a spot on that guest list. If he wants a public spectacle, I’ll give him one p>
The sun was just rising over Geneva.
Azalea stumbled through the front doors of the Royal Family Estate looking like a ghost. Her stunning red dress was wrinkled, dark heavy shadows hanging beneath her eyes.
She knew what she had triggered by going to the Citadel. Gideon was going to kill Dallas. The only way to fix it — the only way to save her father — was to find the one man who could treat Dallas’s nerve damage before Gideon struck.
Dr. Henri Laurent.
Azalea sprinted past the maids and burst into the grand study.
Her grandfather, Jean-Paul Royal, the patriarch of the family, sat in his wheelchair behind a massive oak desk, reading a French newspaper.
“Grandfather.” Azalea slammed both hands down on the desk, her voice hoarse and desperate. “I need you to find Dr. Henri Laurent for me. Right now. I don’t care what it costs p>
Jean-Paul lowered his newspaper slowly. His deep, calculating eyes studied her panicked face.
“Dr. Laurent is the personal physician to the European royal courts,” he said smoothly. “His movements are highly classified. Why do you need him p>
“To save my dad,” Azalea said, her voice cracking.
Jean-Paul was silent for a long moment, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his wheelchair.
“I can arrange a meeting,” he said at last. “But a favor of this magnitude requires extreme political leverage p>
“I will do anything,” Azalea said without a moment’s hesitation.
“Excellent.” Jean-Paul smiled thinly and pressed a button on his intercom. “Please show Prince Edward in p>
The heavy study doors opened.