A week had passed since Noah recruited Volkov and Lucas.
The consequences had been swift and brutal.
Volkov sat across from Noah in the conference room, tablet displaying news reports that made his jaw clench. Smoke rose from charred remains—his Moscow estate, his St. Petersburg apartnt, his daughter's favorite dacha.
All reduced to ash.
"They didn't even wait twenty-four hours," Volkov murmured, scrolling through images of angry crowds outside his burned properties. "Vigilantes, the reports claim."
Noah studied the Russian's weathered face. The man had aged years in seven days.
Country R doesn't forgive betrayal. They never have.
"But we both know better," Volkov continued, accent thicker when stressed. "FSB doesn't need subtlety when making examples."
The death threats had started imdiately. Photos of family mbers with red X's marked across their faces. Promises of retribution. Politicians on state television denouncing him as a traitor to the motherland.
Forty-three years of building a life. Gone overnight.
"Your family is safe. That's what tter." Noah said.
"Yes, its thanks to your people moved them before the first window was broken." Volkov's shoulders sagged. "But everything else…"
Noah stood, walking to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
"Volkov…money can be rebuilt," he said without turning. "Property can be replaced. What matters is that you and your family are still breathing the sa air we do."
The Russian looked up, hope flickering in tired eyes.
"Those estates?" Noah gestured toward the tablet. "Replaceable. Your daughter's safety? Priceless."
"You're right." Volkov straightened slightly. "I know you're right. It's just… a lifeti of work."
"Will be nothing compared to what we build together."
Ti to redirect. Grief serves no purpose beyond initial motivation.
Noah turned from the window, strategy shifting into place.
"Besides, Aurora's success will make those lost properties look like pocket change."
The reminder sparked sothing in Volkov's expression—purpose replacing despair.
"Speaking of which." Noah settled back into his chair. "How's progress? I gave you everything you needed. It should be done within this week at most."
Volkov's face brightened for the first ti in days. The transformation was remarkable—from broken exile to excited scientist in seconds.
"Indeed, Sir Noah."
His accent softened with enthusiasm.
"I think we can create the prototype by tomorrow. After that, it will take us a day or two before we can start mass production."
Perfect. Ahead of schedule.
Noah's mind raced through implications. Early completion ant early profits. Early patents. Early market domination.
"Excellent."
He pulled out his phone, fingers flying across the screen.
"Then let's get the dia ready. This announcent is crucial."
"dia?" Volkov looked uncertain. "You want to publicize Aurora?"
"Strategic publicity." Noah's eyes glead. "Controlled narrative. We announce the breakthrough, demonstrate the technology, and watch every tech company in the world scramble to catch up."
"But the military applications—"
"Will remain classified." Noah's voice brooked no argunt. "We reveal the civilian benefits. Clean energy. Faster computing. dical applications. Let them focus on the pretty picture while we control the dangerous reality."
Public face, private truth. The oldest ga in the book.
Volkov nodded slowly. "And Lucas? He's been incredible this week. The boy learns faster than anyone I've trained."
Noah smiled. Lucas had exceeded expectations—exactly as his talent assessnt had predicted. A-grade minds were rare treasures.
"He'll be credited appropriately. Rising stars need recognition."
"He ntioned wanting to thank you personally for the opportunity."
"No need, now."
Noah waved dismissively. "Results are thanks enough."
Gratitude is useful. Dependence is better.
The conference room door chid. Noah's assistant's voice filtered through the intercom.
"Sir? Lieutenant Adam is requesting imdiate contact."
Noah's expression didn't change, but his fingers tightened imperceptibly.
Adam only called with urgent news.
"Patch him through."
The room's speakers crackled to life.
"Major Thompson." Adam's voice carried tension. "We have developnts. The Russian Foreign Ministry issued a formal statent an hour ago."
Volkov went pale.
"They're demanding Volkov's imdiate extradition," Adam continued. "Claiming he stole state secrets."
"Expected," Noah replied calmly. "Our response?"
"State Departnt is handling diplomatic channels. But there's more. Intel suggests they're planning direct action."
Of course they are.
"How direct?" Noah asked.
"Wet work. Team's already in-country."
Volkov's hands trembled slightly. His family's safety was guaranteed, but he was still afraid.
"Ti fra?"
"Seventy-two hours. Maybe less."
Noah stood, mind shifting into tactical mode. Three days to finish Aurora and ensure Volkov's permanent safety.
"I see,"
The call ended. Silence filled the conference room.
"They're coming for ," Volkov whispered.
"They're trying," Noah corrected. "There's a difference."
Fear motivates. Confidence inspires. Balance both for maximum effect.
"Your family is untouchable. Protected by assets they can't even identify, let alone eliminate." Noah's voice carried absolute certainty. "You will finish Aurora tomorrow. I will handle everything else."
"How can you be so confident?"
Noah's smile was sharp as winter steel.
"Because I've been planning for this conversation since the day we t."
"Sir Noah," Volkov said quietly. "What exactly are you?"
The question everyone asks eventually.
The conference room door closed behind him with a soft click. Volkov's problems were contained. Aurora would be ready tomorrow. Everything proceeded according to plan.
Noah's phone buzzed as he walked through the lab's corridors. A single text ssage that made him quicken his pace.
"Arrived early. Where should we et?"
"Perfect timing."
The Lamborghini Huracán waited in the private garage, its pearl-white finish gleaming under the LED strips.
Noah slipped behind the wheel, the V10 engine purring to life with predatory grace.
As he pulled onto the highway, his mind shifted gears completely. No more Major Thompson. No more business mogul orchestrating corporate empires. Tonight called for a different mask entirely.
Princess Diana is in the city.
The city lights blurred past as he accelerated, thoughts already focused on the evening ahead.
She'd flown in specifically to see him—a secret the tabloids would kill for, a connection that could reshape international relations.
His phone lit up with another ssage.
Noah's lips curved into a smile.
This should be interesting.
The day was still young.
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