Chapter 96 The Wrath of the Kings
Chapter 96 The Wrath of the Kings
The stolen Archangel supersonic jet did not enter Swiss airspace; it violently, entirely shattered it.
The hijacked multi-million dollar deep state aircraft was driven well past its absolute engineering limits by Julian Vance. The engines roared in a high-pitched mechanical scream, as we carved through the blistering, blinding alpine blizzard at a speed that was just as fast as the howling wind.
The massive mountains of the Swiss Alps stretched out below us, while the tragic, burning remains of the Vance stealth chopper that our daughter had broken into the courtyard of the chateau.
Three more heavily armored reinforcement squads were sent by the deep-state! The roar of the jet's dying turbines drowned out my voice, and my icy blue eyes followed the swarms of thermal clusters that swarmed the broken edge of our mountain home.
“They're already dead already! Julian roared, his huge, heavily muscled body emitting a feral, deeply unhinged alpha hellfire.
The fearsome dictator of the underworld didn't grab the landing gear. He gripped the flight yoke with his right hand and pointed the nose of the supersonic jet straight at the heavily fortified, snow-covered terrace of the East Wing, where the main group of deep-state assassins was trying to break into the lower levels.
"Eject, Kaelen!" Julian commanded flawlessly.
I didn't even think twice about it. My heart was beating with cold, absolute and utterly pure adrenaline; We released the manual release levers at the same time.
The heavy cockpit canopy violently blew off. We started out in the freezing, hurricane force winds of the alpine storm, giving in to gravity just as the hijacked jet hit the terrace of the chateau with perfect accuracy.
It was an earth-shattering effect.
The deafening, blinding explosion, instantly and completely obliterated the deep state reinforcements, a huge shockwave of twisted metal and superheated jet fuel ripping through the blizzard.
We didn't use the standard parachutes with Julian. We employed Vance tactical grappling lines which we fired into the remaining stone pillars of the chateau with no problems. We flew through the smoke and glass, falling with incredible speed and fatal force into the underground tunnels.
We had landed right into the blood-soaked marble hallway just outside the damaged war room.
The rest of the Archangel operatives handed over absolute terror. They believed that they had trapped two teen heirs. They didn't know that the kings of the underworld had just returned.
Julian completely unchained the monster.
No one intrudes on my bloodline! Julian roared, a huge, demonic roar of pure alpha destruction, shaking the rest of the glass in the corridor.
He charged straight into the heavily armed deep-state team. He didn't have his fighting sword with him. He was physically dominant, using his calloused, rough hands. He seized a tactical vest on an operative and lifted him off the ground and threw him violently into a second assassin, smashing their ribs on impact.
I had been standing directly next to my King, a blinding dark tactical armor and flawless kinetic velocity. I lowered myself in a perfect slide, across the blood-soaked marble with the supersonic grace of the ice. I was taking the Olympic momentum of my rotation and, spinning like a demon, I drove my twin custom combat blades with a precision I have never before achieved into the unprotected throat of a PMC lieutenant.
Our teenage heirs fully became one with the slaughter from the smoking portals of the war room.
The Vance family was one unstoppable, fearsome unit.
It was a stunning, bloody work of apex predator synchronisation. My daughter's edge-work was exactly the same, flawless, and she was using her twin blades to weaponize, and totally destroy the operatives that were flanking my blind spots. Together with our son, Julian built a wall of raw power and deadly accuracy. Our son's tactical handgun roared with its precision at the level of deafening, completely obliterating any deep-state assassin that Julian did not physically tear in half.
In just four minutes, the underground tunnels of the Vance chateau were completely and forever purified.
There was silence afterwards, and no one could hear anything but our heavy breathing and the crackling of the fire in the courtyard above.
The pitch-black eyes of Julian Vance darted from side to side, searching for the pair of fifteen-year-old twins. A tremendous chest that swelled with a proud and cruel desire. His big hands clutched the back of our son and daughter's necks, pulling them into his solid, muscular body.
You held the mountain, my Prince, little Queen," Julian growled darkly, kissing the side of our daughter's head and grasping our son's shoulder.
We are Vance, Dad, our son said perfectly, his ice blue eyes intact.
I came up to my King, and with his bloody twin blades I inserted them into their sheaths, and the pure dominance of the Mafia Consort came out of my soul. The monitors in the destroyed war room had been broken and crackling, but before I could say a word they violently sprang to life.
A big, heavy, mechanical siren started to sound, not a Vance security alarm but a very frightening high-frequency deep-state warning broadcast.
Our son didn't celebrate. His sharp mind picked up the pitch. He jumped over the broken glass table and his long fingers darted across his remaining encrypted keyboard.
“Papa,” our son breathed, and for the second time in his life, his mind, cold as a frozen lake, broke. The Archangel Commander... he didn't send a ground team, he authorized the final directive.
What did he do, Prince? I commanded smoothly, stepping up to the console.
"It's a localized orbital strike," our son choked out, entirely decrypting the deep-state satellite feed. The trajectory was huge, glowing red and it was precisely on the geographic coordinates of our chateau. The ‘legitimate' superpowers have turned a kinetic bombardment satellite against the vault, and they're not interested in breaking it in anymore; they're going to completely, absolutely obliterate this entire mountain.
Julian's flawless jaw closed on punishing steel. "How long?"
Our son replied, "Three minutes to impact.“Three minutes to impact,” our son said, his icy-blue eyes fixed on the devastating trajectory of the orbital weapon. The radius of the blast will completely vaporize the chateau and the surrounding 50 miles of bedrock.
The deep-state was willing to destroy an entire sector of the Swiss Alps, just to bury the Vance bloodline.
Our daughter replied coldly, looking at her father, “We can't fight the sky.”
"No," Julian growled darkly, a deeply unhinged, feral survival instinct entirely overriding his rage. But we are not dying in the dark," he says.
I looked to the family, the unbreakable rule of the Consort who ruled the room. "The subterranean hyper-loop. “Is the pod attached to the Geneva extraction point?”
Yes, my son said, Papa. It runs at Mach 2 inside a totally insulated vacuum tube, which is far in the earth's crust.
Then we leave the mountain," I said perfectly.
Julian grabbed my hand in a violent grip and his pitch-black eyes blazed with eternity's promise. We didn't gaze at the multi-billion dollar empire burning around us.
The Vance family raced without a moment's hesitation into the darkest depths of the mountain, entirely against the absolute, world-ending fire falling from the stars.