Chapter sixteen:《The Battle in the Abandoned Warehouse》
The Fierce Clash in the Desolate Depot
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The warehouse roof shrieked as rusted beams buckled, moonlight slicing through cracks like fractured blades.
Violet's pulse thundered in her ears, yet her voice emerged steady—a commander's calm slicing through chaos.
"Northwest corner.
Structural beams are intact there.
"
Ethan wiped blood from his split lip, his gaze locking onto hers.
No words.
Just the unspoken calculus of two minds syncing mid-storm.
He tossed her the serpent USB, its obsidian surface glinting.
"Buy me ninety seconds.
"
"Eighty," she corrected, already sprinting toward the crumbling eastern wall.
Her fingers flew across the USB's biometric lock—*his* fingerprints still warm from his grip.
**The Rescue Gambit**
Violet's earpiece crackled as she ducked behind a corroded forklift.
"Status?
" Ethan's voice—all gravel and gunpowder.
"Twelve hostiles.
Four thermal signatures upstairs.
" Her nails bit into peeling paint.
"The egret feather—it's not decor.
Smuggled bio-samples in the vanquill.
"
A beat of silence.
Then Ethan's dark chuckle.
"Ecological warfare.
How *quaint*.
"
Overhead, surveillance drones buzzed like metallic wasps.
Violet disabled three with a jury-rigged EMP from her bracelet.
"Your uncle's yacht logs—cross-referenced with flight plans.
The math's ugly, Ethan.
"
"Save the audit for our anniversary.
" Steel screeched as Ethan wrenched open a subfloor hatch.
"RSVP's about to get loud.
"
**Fireworks Protocol**
Black SUVs materialized like panthers at the compound's edge—Ethan's private security phalanx.
Thirty-seven seconds early.
"Sir.
" Their commander tossed Ethan a FN Five-seveN.
"The gala crashers?
"
"Leave the fireworks to me.
" Ethan's thumb brushed the gun's serial number—etched with Violet's birthday.
A marriage of practical romance.
Violet's voice cut through gunfire.
"Hostage's wearing a deadman's switch!
The feather—it's the trigger!
"
Ethan's smile turned feral.
"Cut the blue wire.
"
"There *are* no wires!"
"Exactly." He fired.
The egret feather disintegrated in a hail of bullets.
The bio-canister froze mid-drop.
**Crimson Interlude**
The shadowy figure descended from rafters—a specter in Armani armor.
The organization's lieutenant.
Their stiletto blade kissed Ethan's throat.
"Your uncle sends regards.
"
Violet moved.
Not toward Ethan—*past* him.
Her stiletto heel crushed the lieutenant's comms device.
"Bad form to monologue.
"
Ethan headbutted his captor.
"Worse form to touch my wife.
"
Blood arced.
Violet caught the lieutenant's data chip midair.
"Darling?
They're cloning board members.
"
**Betrayal's Sting**
The traitorous figure—their informant—collapsed at Violet's feet, clutching a gut wound.
"Check…the surveillance timestamps…" Crimson bubbles punctuated the warning.
"Your uncle's fourth Thursday…he…"
Ethan knelt, all ruthless gentleness.
"Speak faster.
"
The informant's laugh gurgled.
"They've replaced…" A final shudder.
Violet froze.
The USB's decryption bar hit 99%.
**Ephemeral Epilogue**
In the sudden stillness, a single notification pinged.
Violet stared at her wedding band—now projecting holographic data.
Flight logs.
Yacht coordinates.
Her voice chilled.
"Ethan?
"
He read the betrayal in her eyes before the words came.
"Your uncle wasn't dining with their chairman.
" She rotated the hologram.
"He *is* the chairman.
"
Above them, the last intact drone captured everything.
Somewhere, a media empire salivated.
The chapter ends with the incriminating hologram rotating between them, the USB's final decryption revealing not just corporate espionage but a familial knife lodged deep.
Violet's hand drifts to her bracelet—where the egret feather's twin lies hidden—as Ethan's phone lights up with seventeen missed calls from his mother.
The last anchor?
A live news alert begins broadcasting warehouse footage...
with suspiciously edited timestamps.