My Milf Conqueror System novel Chapter 123

Chapter 123: The World Beneath

[Ethan’s POV]

The Black Sea Investment Bank was a fortress of pale stone and reinforced glass, sitting in the center of a wide, cobblestone plaza in Odesa’s historic district.

Claire and I were crouched on the flat roof of a neo-classical apartment building across the street, hidden behind a stone parapet. The wind whipping off the sea was bitter, carrying the scent of salt and impending snow.

I lowered my binoculars, my jaw tight. "It’s a hard target. I count twelve PMCs on the perimeter alone. They’ve got overlapping fields of fire, thermal cameras on the roof, and reinforced steel barricades over the ground-floor windows."

"Isabella isn’t taking any chances after the warehouse," Claire said, her teeth chattering slightly as she pulled her scarf tighter. She was looking at a physical tourist map of the city she had bought from a kiosk earlier that afternoon.

"If Jake tries to walk across that plaza, they’ll cut him to pieces before he gets within fifty yards of the front door," I said, scanning the shadows. "He has to know that. The Oracle would calculate the probability of a frontal assault as zero."

"He’s not going to walk across the plaza," Claire said softly, her finger tracing a web of dotted lines on the tourist map.

I looked over at her. "What do you mean?"

"Odesa isn’t like other cities, Ethan," Claire explained, tapping the map. "It was built on a massive bed of limestone. In the 1800s, they mined the stone to build the city above. It left behind a network of tunnels. The Odesa Catacombs. There are over fifteen hundred miles of them right beneath our feet."

I stared at the bank, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. "He’s not going through the doors. He’s going under them."

"During the Cold War, the Soviets expanded the tunnels to build nuclear bunkers," Claire continued, her eyes wide. "Smugglers have used them for decades. If Jake got his hands on a subterranean map, he could navigate right under the bank’s foundation."

Before I could respond, the streetlights in the plaza flickered.

A low, deep hum vibrated through the soles of my boots, resonating from deep within the earth.

Then, the entire historic district went black.

The streetlights, the neon signs, the floodlights illuminating the bank—everything died in an instant. The sudden darkness was absolute, broken only by the pale moonlight filtering through the clouds.

Down in the plaza, the PMCs began shouting in French and Russian. Flashlight beams sliced frantically through the dark as they formed a tight defensive perimeter around the bank’s entrance.

"He cut the main power grid for the whole block," I whispered, pulling my Glock from its holster.

A second later, a muffled, concussive THUMP shook the ground. It wasn’t an explosion on the street. It came from directly beneath the bank. A faint plume of gray smoke began to drift out of the brass ventilation grates set into the plaza’s cobblestones.

"He breached the vault," Claire breathed.

"Stay close," I ordered, moving toward the fire escape at the back of the roof. "We’re going in."

We scrambled down the rusted iron stairs, hitting the dark alleyway at a dead sprint. The PMCs were entirely focused on the front of the building, their radios hissing with static as they tried to figure out what had just happened.

We circled around to the rear loading dock. Two PMCs were stationed there, their night-vision goggles glowing green in the dark. They were nervous, their rifles sweeping the shadows erratically.

Strike the biggest threat. Strike to break them. Darius’s voice echoed in my mind.

I didn’t slow down. I emerged from the alley at a full sprint, closing the distance before they even registered my footsteps.

The PMC on the left turned, raising his rifle. I dropped into a slide on the wet pavement, kicking his legs out from under him. As he hit the ground, I drove the heavy steel pommel of my Glock into the side of his helmet, knocking him out cold.

The second PMC yelled, swinging his weapon toward me.

I didn’t have time to aim. I lunged forward, grabbing the hot barrel of his rifle and shoving it upward just as he pulled the trigger. The suppressed shots chewed into the brick wall above my head. I pivoted, driving my elbow into his throat, and followed it with a brutal knee to his solar plexus. He collapsed, gasping for air, and I hit him with a right cross that put him to sleep.

"Clear!" I hissed, grabbing a keycard from the unconscious guard’s tactical vest.

Claire ran up behind me, her breathing heavy. I swiped the card on the loading dock door. The electronic lock was dead from the blackout, but the magnetic seal had disengaged. I pulled the heavy door open, and we slipped into the pitch-black interior of the bank.

The air inside was thick with the acrid smell of burning thermite and melting steel.

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