Prague was colder than Evelyn expected.
The city sparkled under ice-dusted spires and old-world charm, masking secrets centuries deep. But charm didn't matter tonight. What mattered was who would be attending the Equinox Summit—and what they planned to do behind those vaulted doors.
Rhys Kellan would be there. So would representatives from nearly every major global tech and defense conglomerate. Hidden among them, HYDRA's architects—the minds behind the machine.
Evelyn checked her gear. Minimalist. Sleek. No weapons that would trigger customs. Everything she needed was embedded—fiberglass wire in her bracelet, encrypted recorder in her ring, retina-accessed contacts with facial recognition.
Beside her, Wolfe adjusted his cufflinks with a controlled ease that didn't fool her.
"You ready for this?" she asked.
He met her gaze. "I've never walked into a lion's den smiling."
"Then let me be the teeth."
---
The Equinox Summit was held in the Black Room—a subterranean conference chamber carved beneath a historic cathedral. No press. No photography. No electronic signals permitted.
Which meant no safety net.
They entered as separate guests—Wolfe under his legacy title as founder of Wolfe Global. Evelyn under an alias, posing as a foreign economic advisor.
The summit began in silence.
Twelve chairs around a matte obsidian table.
Twelve players.
Rhys was seated third from the right, his smirk a silent dare across the room.
Evelyn didn't blink.
She activated her ring. The hidden recorder linked to her contact lens. Names, expressions, vocal frequencies—catalogued.
Beside Rhys sat a man they didn't recognize. Silver cufflinks. Vatican pin. No record in any known surveillance log.
Evelyn whispered under breath. "That's him. One of the real architects."
Wolfe's reply was low. "Then he's priority."
---
The first hour passed in vague policy rhetoric.
Then the language shifted.
Terms like "asset consolidation," "liability containment," and "nodal influence restructuring."
All coded.
All HYDRA.
Then the silver-cufflink man spoke.
"There has been a breach," he said. "Operation CULLING has been delayed. There is resistance."
His eyes flicked to Wolfe.
Evelyn's fingers curled.
Rhys leaned back lazily. "Resistance always comes before surrender."
"Not this time," Wolfe said aloud.
The room stilled.
Every eye turned.
Rhys chuckled. "There it is."
Silver Cufflink narrowed his gaze. "You should not have come."
"And yet," Evelyn said, removing her ring, "we did."
She tapped it to the table.
An instant pulse of light.
The encrypted feed was sent—everything said, every face recorded.
"Every intelligence agency in the western hemisphere just received a direct transmission," Wolfe added.
"From twelve war criminals."
Chaos erupted.
Rhys lunged.
Wolfe blocked.
Evelyn swept under the table, smashing the ring against a chair leg, detonating the embedded smoke capsule.
Alarms screamed.
Two guards rushed in—Wolfe's men, disguised.
"Move!" he barked.
They fled through the tunnel route mapped by Evelyn two nights before.
Up stone staircases.
Out into snow.
Into history.
---
They didn't speak until they reached the safehouse.
Evelyn collapsed onto a bench, heart pounding.
"We just exposed a shadow empire," she breathed.
Wolfe checked his phone. "And Rhys is still alive."
"For now," she said. "But he's running out of places to hide."
Wolfe looked at her.
"No more shadows," he said. "No more towers."
She smiled.
"Then let's finish it."