The chamber smelled like old steel and ozone—like something sealed for decades finally exhaling its breath. A low hum echoed off the metallic walls as Ethan stepped inside, his boots tapping lightly on the floor. The room was circular, lined with sleek panels and dim blue lighting that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Cassian stayed just outside the threshold, arms folded.
"It's yours now," he said.
Ethan walked to the center console. A transparent panel flickered to life at his touch, revealing a biometric interface. He hesitated only for a second before placing his palm flat against the surface.
The scanner whirred. A beam of light traced the contours of his face.
"Identity confirmed," a synthetic voice announced. "Welcome, Ethan Marcus Alden."
Ethan blinked. It was the first time he had heard his full name spoken aloud like that—with weight, with history.
The console sank into the floor, and a second panel opened. Inside was a thick, sealed case, about the size of a briefcase, engraved with the Alden family crest—a hawk over a fractured crown.
He reached out slowly, fingers brushing the metal.
Cassian finally stepped in, voice lower. "Before you open that, you need to understand something. That box isn't just inheritance. It's a trigger. Once you see what's inside, people will come. Not just to stop you—but to erase you."
"They already tried," Ethan muttered, recalling the fight in his apartment. "I'm past that line now."
He lifted the lid.
Inside: A data drive, black and sealed with a rotating encryption lock. A folded envelope. And underneath, a pistol—sleek, custom-made, etched with "M.A."
He ignored the weapon and picked up the envelope. It was thick, yellowed, and sealed with red wax.
Breaking the seal, he found a letter—handwritten.
Ethan,
If you're reading this, then you're alive.
And if you're alive, you're in danger.
I never told you the truth because I had to protect you. I made enemies in places where names don't exist on paper. I destroyed dynasties, exposed governments, and built something I couldn't control in the end.
What you're holding is the last key to it all. The drive contains the location and access codes to a hidden server farm beneath Zurich. Inside: records, identities, and leverage. Enough to crumble the real empire hiding in the shadows.
You weren't supposed to inherit this. But now that you're in, there's no out.
You have two choices
Destroy the drive. Burn it. Disappear. You might live a quiet life—for a while.
Use it. Find the others. Finish what I started. But know this: every ally has an agenda. Trust no one completely.
Especially Cassian.
--Marcus
Ethan read the letter twice. Then a third time.
When he looked up, Cassian was watching him closely.
"Well?" the man asked.
Ethan didn't answer. He simply held up the drive.
"What do you know about Zurich?" he asked coldly.
Cassian's face remained unreadable. "Enough."
"Then let's start with that."
He placed the drive back in the case and closed it, sealing away the pistol.
Cassian raised an eyebrow. "You're not taking the gun?"
"I'll get my own," Ethan said. "Something not tied to Marcus."
Cassian gave a slight nod. Approval, maybe. Or caution.
As they walked out of the vault, the chamber slowly powered down behind them.
Ethan didn't look back.
That night, Ethan sat alone in a temporary safe house provided by Cassian. Spartan room. One window. One exit. But for now, secure.
He laid the letter out on the table, the words running over and over in his mind.
"Especially Cassian."
Trust no one.
He opened his laptop and decrypted the first layer of the drive. Screens of encrypted code flashed across the screen.
Then coordinates.
Then a name: Project ECHO.
His eyes narrowed.
This wasn't just his father's legacy. It was a map to a battlefield.
And Ethan Alden was now marching straight into it.