[Ethan’s POV]

The rhythmic clacking of the train wheels was the only sound in the freezing cargo car.

I sat on an intact wooden crate, my canvas jacket and shirt stripped off, shivering as the icy wind whipped through the open doorway. Claire was standing in front of me, her hands covered in my blood, holding a curved suturing needle she had pulled from our emergency medkit.

"This is going to hurt," she warned, her voice tight.

"Just do it," I gritted out, biting down on a rolled-up piece of leather strap.

Claire didn’t hesitate. She pushed the needle through the torn flesh of my shoulder. I muffled a groan, my muscles locking up as she pulled the thick nylon thread tight. She worked quickly and efficiently, her face pale but her hands perfectly steady.

"Six stitches," she said a few minutes later, tying off the knot and snipping the thread with a pair of trauma shears. She taped a thick gauze pad over the wound. "It’s not pretty, but it’ll hold as long as you don’t get into another knife fight with an ex-FBI manhunter."

"I’ll try to keep it on the schedule," I muttered, spitting out the leather strap and pulling a clean thermal shirt from my duffel bag. I winced as I pulled it over my head.

Claire sat down on the floor across from me, wiping the blood off her hands with a rag. She looked exhausted, the dark circles under her eyes stark against her pale skin.

"Varga," she said quietly, staring at the open doorway where the tracks blurred past. "He’s not going to stop, Ethan. He’s not doing this for Isabella’s money. He’s doing it for revenge."

"I know," I said, checking the action on my Glock and sliding it into my holster. "Jake humiliated him. He took his blackmail files and burned his agency to the ground. A guy like Varga... he lives for control. Jake took that away. Now he wants blood."

"He’ll track the train," Claire said.

"Let him," I said, leaning back against the cold metal wall. "Vienna is a big city. And we have a head start."

We crossed the Austrian border just before dawn. The smuggler’s train slowed as it entered a massive freight depot on the outskirts of Vienna. We didn’t wait for it to come to a complete stop. We grabbed our bags, jumped from the moving car, and slipped through the rail yard before the border police even began their inspections.

By mid-morning, we were walking through the heart of the Austrian capital.

The contrast between Odesa and Vienna was staggering. Odesa had been a gritty, industrial warzone. Vienna was a pristine, glittering monument to old European wealth. The streets were lined with immaculate baroque architecture, high-end designer boutiques, and cafes filled with people wearing suits that cost more than my car.

We stuck out like sore thumbs. We were bruised, exhausted, and wearing cheap, dirty clothes.

"We need to get off the street," Claire murmured, pulling her scarf up to hide her face as a pair of private security guards eyed us suspiciously from the steps of a luxury hotel. "Isabella’s influence is everywhere here. Half these banks and hotels are probably owned by her shell companies."

"We need a safehouse," I agreed. "And we need to figure out what Jake is targeting."

We found a small, cash-only hostel in the Leopoldstadt district, far away from the glittering palaces of the city center. The room was tiny, but it was clean, and more importantly, it didn’t require a credit card or a passport.

As soon as I locked the door, Claire opened her briefcase and spread the stolen shipping manifest and Jake’s notebooks across the small desk.

"Okay," Claire said, rubbing her eyes and forcing herself to focus. "Odesa was Isabella’s supply line. But Vienna is her financial fortress. If Jake is here, he’s not looking to burn a warehouse. He’s looking to cripple her infrastructure."

"What’s the biggest target in the city?" I asked, looking over her shoulder.

Claire flipped through the notebook, her finger tracing the complex webs of corporate structures Jake had drawn. She stopped on a page that was heavily circled in red ink.

"The Hofburg Palace," Claire said, her brow furrowing. "But it’s not a bank. It’s the former imperial palace. It’s used for state events and massive galas."

"Why would Jake target a palace?" I asked.

Claire pulled out her encrypted phone, keeping it disconnected from the cellular network, and accessed the offline data cache Nia had downloaded for us before we left DC. She cross-referenced the dates in Jake’s notebook with the public events calendar for Vienna.

Her eyes widened.

"Because Isabella is hosting a summit," Claire breathed. "Tomorrow night. It’s an exclusive, invitation-only gala at the Hofburg Palace. She’s bringing together all of her top investors, the heads of her shell companies, and the European politicians she has in her pocket."

"A show of force," I realized. "Darius said Isabella was bleeding Vanguard in the boardrooms. She’s hosting this summit to prove to her backers that she’s untouchable. She’s rallying her empire."

"And Jake knows it," Claire said, looking up at me. "Ethan, if Isabella’s entire inner circle is going to be in one room... Jake isn’t just going to hit her wallet. He’s going to cut the head off the snake."

I stared at the notebook. The Feral King was going to walk into a palace filled with Isabella’s elite guards, Varga’s hit squads, and the most powerful people in Europe.

"It’s a suicide mission," I said, my voice tight. "Even with the Oracle, he can’t fight an army in a closed environment."

"He doesn’t plan on fighting them," Claire said, pointing to a series of chemical equations scribbled in the margins of the notebook. "Look at this. He’s been tracking the HVAC schematics for the Hofburg Palace. He’s calculating airflow, ventilation rates, and cubic volume."

A cold dread washed over me. "He’s going to gas them."

"He’s going to pump something into the ventilation system during the summit," Claire confirmed, her voice trembling. "He’s going to wipe out Isabella and her entire syndicate in one strike."

"We have to get inside that palace," I said, stepping away from the desk and pacing the small room.

"We have to find him before he triggers the gas. If he murders a hundred people, there’s no coming back from that. The Jake we know will be dead forever."

"Ethan, it’s the most secure event in Europe," Claire said. "We don’t have invitations. We don’t have cover identities. And we look like vagrants."

I stopped pacing and looked at her.

"Then we get some," I said. "Isabella’s people are arrogant. They rely on digital security. We’re going to do this analog. We’re going to steal our way in."

I grabbed my jacket, ignoring the sharp pain in my stitched shoulder.

"Where are you going?" Claire asked.

"To find us some suits," I said, a grim smile touching my lips. "And to find out who’s on the guest list. Get some sleep, Claire. Tomorrow night, we’re crashing a royal ball."