Chapter 3

Avalon exited a gritty Brooklyn subway station. She took three complex detours through dark alleys, ensuring no tails followed her. Finally, she slipped through a rusted metal door into an abandoned warehouse. The glow of multiple server racks illuminated the massive space. Her fixer, Silas Archer, sat at a desk surrounded by monitors. Silas tossed her a dry towel. "Sterling just placed a fifty-million-dollar dark-web bounty on Citron's head." Avalon caught the towel. She dried her hair aggressively. Her expression hardened. Sterling would never stop hunting her alternate identity. "It's time to execute Protocol Phoenix," Avalon declared. "Citron needs to die tonight." Silas hesitated. His fingers hovered over his keyboard. "Killing off the Citron persona means losing your absolute immunity in the medical underworld. You sure?" Avalon walked over and coldly logged into her encrypted laptop. "Freedom is worth more than a title." Her fingers flew across the keys. She hacked into the New York traffic grid, manipulating streetlights to clear a direct path toward a cliffside highway in upstate New York. Silas preps the decoy. He rolled out a black Audi. He rigged the trunk with remote-controlled C4. Inside the driver's seat, he strapped a medical dummy containing Citron's known DNA markers-specifically, hair samples left at previous surgical sites. Avalon stripped off her wet clothes. She changed into dry, black tactical gear. She strapped a specialized EMP detonator to her left wrist. They drove out to the winding cliffside road of the Palisades. The storm was still raging heavily, thunder shaking the ground. Avalon parked her motorcycle on a hidden, elevated ridge. She had a perfect vantage point overlooking the treacherous hairpin turn where the decoy Audi was positioned. Silas initiated a fake distress signal on Citron's known encrypted frequency. It was a beacon Sterling's intelligence team would easily intercept. Twenty minutes later, the roar of helicopter blades cut through the storm. Three black SUVs sped down the wet highway. They boxed in the remotely controlled Audi against the guardrail. Sterling Vanderbilt stepped out of the lead vehicle. The rain plastered his hair to his forehead. His eyes were fixed on the Audi. He believed he finally had Citron cornered. Avalon lay flat on the wet ridge. She watched him through the sniper scope of her rifle. Her finger rested gently on the EMP detonator. Sterling ordered his men to breach. He raised a megaphone, his voice booming over the rain, demanding Citron's surrender. Avalon waited. Her breathing slowed. She watched Sterling's men approach. Ten feet. The safe blast radius. She hit the detonator. A massive fireball erupted. The explosion ripped through the night. The shockwave shattered the Audi, blowing the flaming wreckage straight off the cliff and into the raging river below. The force of the blast forced Sterling to shield his face. His expensive coat whipped violently in the fiery wind. Sterling walked to the edge of the broken guardrail. He stared down at the burning wreckage sinking into the black water. His expression was a terrifying mix of shock and furious frustration. Caleb ran up to him, holding a thermal scanner. "Zero chance of survival, boss. Citron is dead." Sterling punched the hood of his SUV. The heavy metal dented under his sheer rage. He had lost his ultimate target. Avalon lowered her rifle. A faint, triumphant smirk played on her lips. She pulled out a tablet and wiped her digital traces from the local cell towers. The explosion was now a perfectly documented, desperate suicide attempt. Silas patted her shoulder. "Welcome back from the dead, Avalon White." Avalon packed her gear. Her past as Citron was ashes. Her future as the White family's estranged daughter was just beginning. She rode her motorcycle back toward Manhattan as dawn broke. Her burner phone buzzed. A cold text from her father, Harrison White: "Return to the estate immediately. We need to talk."