Liam tramped through the thick, powdery snow, his combat boots crunching softly against the quiet earth. He paused for a moment, tilting his head back to gaze up at the vast Siberian sky, where a pale full moon bathed the frozen wilderness in silver light.
He lowered his eyes to the unconscious teenager cradle-carried in his arms.
Ethan... Liam thought quietly, adjusting his grip so the kid's head wouldn't drop into the cold wind.
I hope our paths cross again under better circumstances.
Reaching the edge of the treeline, Liam spotted the asphalt of the main secondary road cutting through the valley. Liam looked at Ethan's pale, battered face—remembering the sheer hell the kid had endured over the past twenty-four hours—his conscious refused to let him leave him to freeze.
A couple of minutes in this temperature and he'll die, Liam reasoned.
Changing direction, Liam sprinted parallel to the highway toward the dim lights of a small regional medical clinic three miles out.
Moving like a ghost through the treeline, he reached the clinic's rear courtyard, gently laid Ethan on a wooden bench near the service entrance, and draped a thermal wool blanket over his shoulders.
Without leaving a trace, Liam melted back into the shadows and vanished into the night.
Sixty seconds later, a sanitation worker pushed open the clinic's heavy back door carrying a heavy bin of trash. Stopping in her tracks, her eyes caught the blanket-wrapped bundle on the bench. Dropping the bin, she rushed forward, kneeling beside the bench and pulling back the edge of the blanket.
Her breath hitched.
It's him... the woman realized instantly, her pulse racing. The boy Lady Ophelia's network put an APB out for!
She gathered Ethan into her arms and scrambled back inside the heated hallway, yelling for the head nurse.
Meanwhile, a custom matte-black Rolls-Royce Phantom Limousine glided through the snow-dusted highway, its tires humming softly against the pavement.
Inside the luxurious leather-trimmed cabin, Lady Ophelia sat near the tinted window, her hand resting against her chin as she stared blankly out into the dark forest.
Still no sign of Ethan, she thought, a heavy knot tightening in her chest.
Please, let us find him before anything bad happens to him.
She leaned back into the plush upholstery and let out a tired sigh. Across from her, Isabel, her fiercely loyal personal attendant, sat in respectful silence, keeping a watchful eye on her mistress.
Suddenly, Ophelia's phone vibrated violently on the leather console between them. The screen flashed with the priority caller ID of their local Siberian medical contact.
Ophelia's eyes narrowed instantly. She snatched up the device and tapped the screen. "Report."
"Lady Ophelia... we found him," the panicked voice came through the speaker. "He's alive. He's at the..."
Ophelia didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second. She slammed her hand against the driver's partition. "TURN THE CAR AROUND! NOW!"
The heavy Phantom executed a sharp, controlled U-turn across the snow-slicked road, its engine roaring as it surged back toward the clinic.
Minutes later, the limousine screeched to a halt outside the clinic's main entrance. Ophelia burst through the rear door before the vehicle had even fully stopped, storming into the lobby with her long coat trailing behind her.
"Where is Ethan?" she demanded, rushing up to the front desk.
"Please, calm down, My Lady. He is stable," the head nurse reassured her quickly, coming out from behind the counter. "He is in Room 104—"
Before the nurse could finish her sentence, Ophelia was already sprinting down the hallway, her heels clicking rapidly against the linoleum. Isabel followed a step behind, her hand resting discreetly near the hidden sidearm inside her blazer.
"Isabel!" Ophelia called out over her shoulder without breaking stride. "Use my phone. Call my son immediately and tell him Ethan has been secured."
"At once, My Lady," Isabel replied, and dialed the primary contact labeled: Son.
Ophelia pushed open the door to Room 104. The quiet room smelled of antiseptics. A attending physician and the sanitation worker who had discovered Ethan were standing beside the bed. Ethan lay beneath a thick duvet, his chest rising and falling in a steady, deep sleep.
"How is he?" Ophelia asked, her voice dropping into a breathless whisper as she approached the bed.
"He's completely stable," the physician reported softly. "No major structural trauma, just severe exhaustion and traces of a mild sedative in his system. He should wake within the hour."
Ophelia felt a massive weight lift from her shoulders. She stepped over to the couch beside the bed and sank into it, closing her eyes for a brief moment to catch her breath.
"Where exactly was he found?" Ophelia asked, looking up at the sanitation staffer.
"Just outside the rear loading dock, ma'am," the woman explained nervously. "Someone left him wrapped in a thermal blanket right before I walked out with the maintenance run."
Ophelia gave her a warm, appreciative nod. "You've done an incredible service tonight. You will be compensated beyond your wildest expectations."
Isabel stepped quietly into the room, stepping up to Ophelia's side and handing back the encrypted phone. "My Lady, I've delivered your message to your son."
"Good," Ophelia said, taking the phone.
"He also mentioned that he has something to share to your personally, My Lady," Isabel added quietly.
Ophelia nodded and said, "Gave this woman a generous gift. Also to this clinic."
Isabel nodded.
Isabel gestured for the sanitation worker and the nurse to follow her into the hallway to handle the gift.
Ophelia stood up and walked over to the side of the bed. Reaching down, she gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from Ethan's forehead, wiping away a light sheen of sweat.
"Rest now, Ethan," she whispered softly. "You're safe."
Raising the phone to her ear, she dialed him.
The line connected after two sharp rings.
"Hello?," Ophelia spoke into the receiver.
"Yes, First—how is the boy?" a sharp, confident voice responded over the static-free line.
"He's resting. The doctors say he'll be fine," Ophelia replied, sitting back down. "Now talk to me. There was something you wanted to share?"
"Where do I even begin..." her son said, his tone serious like always. "Our orbital satellites caught the entire sequence. I went to the drop zone myself—the initial skirmish took place right near the place where we first founded Ethan. As for Damian's part of the plane... it few miles away, near the mansion of Dr. Philip."
Ophelia's brows knit together. "Philip?"
"A bigshot... But here's the interesting part: satellite confirms Philip's recovery team pulled Damian out of the snow drifts alive. He's currently inside the manor."
Ophelia nodded slowly. "Then.. can you bring Damian back to us?"
"That won't be necessary," her son replied smoothly.
"Why?"
"Because Damian will walk out of that estate on his own two feet... assuming he survives what's coming."
Ophelia's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
"An elite Unit called DWO has established a tactical perimeter around Philip's manor," he continued, "It appears the Organization sent one of their units to eliminate Philip before he makes things difficult."
"Organization? Philip?" Ophelia asked. "I don't understand?"
"It's a long story... What you need to you is that Philip once worked for the same organization, which has sent DWO to kill him.
"Why?" Ophelia asked.
"He knows too much. He's been fortifying that estate for months." Her son said.
Ophelia processed the information.
"Take care of the boy." Her son said.
The line went dead.
Miles away, The white-haired young man clad in a tailored black tactical suit stood before a towering floor-to-ceiling wall monitor.
The screen displayed high-resolution, thermal satellite feeds of the Siberian mountain ridge, zooming in on dark tactical silhouettes creeping through the treeline toward Dr. Philip's fortified estate.
"The war begins at first light," he murmured into the quiet room.
"Let's see who survives... the hunters, or the doctor."