Chapter 3 - The Genesis Protocol
"Start talking," I said, my voice dropping into a lethal purr as I triggered the master lockdown switch beneath my desk. Heavy steel shutters slid down over the floor-to-ceiling windows, sealing the study off from the snowy Chicago night.
Elena didn't flinch at the mechanical roar of the shutters. She pulled out the chair opposite my desk and sat down without waiting for an invitation, laying the medical dossier open between us.
"You think Genevieve died in a car crash because that's what the corporate board wanted you to believe," Elena began, her voice steadying as she settled into the gravity of her own story. "She wasn't a victim of a random highway collision, Mr. Mercer. She was executed because of what she discovered inside the bio-genetics division of Vanguard Pharmaceuticals—the very company you funded with your initial venture capital ten years ago."
I gripped the arms of my chair. Vanguard was a titan in cellular research, a company I had helped launch before stepping back to focus on global logistics and private security. "Vanguard saved thousands of lives. They're pioneers."
"They're monsters," Elena corrected bitterly, pointing a slender finger at the yellowed papers. "Look at the file. These aren't normal medical records. Before your twins were conceived, Genevieve discovered that Vanguard wasn't just researching gene therapy—they were weaponizing embryonic stem cells to engineer hereditary metabolic dependencies. Your children weren't born with leukemia by chance, Lawson. They were genetically tagged before they drew their first breath."
The room seemed to tilt on its axis. My heart hammered against my ribs like a caged animal. "That's impossible. Yates runs their panels. Yates is my friend."
"Dr. Franklin Yates is on Vanguard's payroll," Elena said, her dark eyes locking onto mine with chilling conviction. "He’s the one who authorized the initial sequence modifications during the in-vitro stage while you were traveling abroad. Genevieve found out, panicked, and tried to smuggle the master cell lines out of the lab. That's why her car was rigged. That's why her body was unrecognizably burned."
Before I could process the sheer magnitude of the betrayal, Prescott’s comm-link buzzed sharply against his collar.
"Boss," Prescott’s voice came through the encrypted speaker, clipped and urgent. "We've got movement on the perimeter sensors. Three unmarked black SUVs just breached the outer gate without identification. They're bypassing the security grid using administrative override codes."
My gaze snapped to Elena. "How did they find you?"
"Because the necklace has an active military-grade tracker embedded in the sapphire," Elena said, her face draining of what little color it had left. "I thought I disabled it, but Vanguard’s security systems are tied into every municipal fiber line in Chicago. They knew the moment I walked through your gates."
I stood up, pulling a heavy SIG Sauer P226 from the magnetic holster beneath my desk and slamming a fresh magazine into the well. For months, I had felt powerless, a helpless spectator watching my children slip away. But betrayal? Betrayal I understood. War I knew how to wage.
"Prescott," I spoke into my desk master comm, my voice cold enough to freeze boiling water. "Initiate Protocol Red. Seal the residential wing, arm the internal detail, and bring Dr. Yates down to my office at gunpoint immediately."
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"Boss?" Prescott hesitated. "Dr. Yates is in the children's ward checking their IV lines."
"I don't care where he is," I snarled, racking the slide of my pistol with a sharp, metallic snap. "Drag him here, or put a bullet in his knee if he resists. We're going to have a family reunion."
