The black sedan cut through the Geneva night like a sliver of solid shadow, weaving between the cobblestone arteries of the Old Town with a precision that spoke of Ethan's intimate knowledge of escape routes. Sophia clutched the recording device in her trembling hands, its small LED screen glowing with the captured ghost of Julian's false peace—the spectral waveform of the Monotone Frequency that had nearly unspooled her will into compliant threads.
"Ninety seconds," Ethan said, his voice stripped of everything except operational clarity. He didn't look at her. His eyes tracked the rearview mirror, the street ahead, the darkened windows of the buildings flanking them. "Synergy security will have locked down the summit perimeter by now. They've initiated radio silence on all official channels."
