THE WINTER ARCHITECT

Mother screamed and threw her arms over her face.

The gunshot echoed through the mansion. But on the monitor, Eleanor didn’t fall.

Instead, El Cuervo staggered backward, dropping his pistol as he clutched a shattered collarbone. The camera feed panned violently as Viktor, bleeding from a cut across his forehead, stepped into the foyer from the grand staircase, his assault rifle raised. He had taken the shot from the upper landing.

“Commander!” Viktor yelled into his comms. “Main foyer is breached, but I have the VIP pinned. Move now!”

I shoved Natalie toward the hidden safe room behind the bookcase. “Stay here and keep your mouth shut.”

I sprinted out of the study, reloading as I ran. The house was a warzone of shattered antiques, bullet-riddled drywall, and the suffocating smell of cordite.

When I reached the balcony overlooking the grand foyer, the scene was chaotic. El Cuervo’s remaining guards were exchanging heavy fire with Viktor. Mother was huddled behind a shattered marble pillar, weeping uselessly.

And then I saw the servers.

Along the far wall of the foyer, concealed panels had slid open. The estate wasn't just a fortress; it was a physical data hub. Rows of black server racks were lighting up with furious red warnings.

“Ethan!” Claire’s voice called out. She had followed me out of the safe corridor, clutching my heavy tactical jacket tightly around her. She was staring at the blinking servers.

“They triggered the purge!” Claire yelled over the gunfire. “The transfer documents from the dining table—Eleanor didn't just try to get my signature for the money. The signature was the biometric release for the servers. Because I didn't sign, the cartel is manually overriding the system to destroy the ledger!”

El Cuervo, bleeding profusely against the mahogany front doors, laughed. “You lose, Vance! The ledger burns tonight! Your father died for nothing!”

If those servers purged, the names of every corrupt official protecting the cartel would vanish. My father’s life work, and Claire’s sacrifice, would be entirely erased.

“There’s a physical backup!” Claire yelled, grabbing my arm. “Your father told me before he died. The servers mirror directly to an offline drive. It’s hardwired into the estate!”

“Where?” I demanded, laying down suppressing fire to keep El Cuervo’s men pinned.

“The garage!” she yelled. “The vintage Mercedes!”

I looked at her, realizing the brilliance of my father’s paranoia. A car that never ran, sitting in a locked, climate-controlled garage for a decade. Hidden in plain sight.