The helicopter's spotlight was a blinding white eye, pinning Ren and Jace against the rusted metal of the radio tower. The roar of the rotors drowned out everything—the wind, the sirens, even the rhythmic clang of Jace's makeshift drums.
Elena Vance stood frozen, her pistol shaking in the harsh light. She wasn't a soldier; she was a fixer, and she was watching the Laurent empire dissolve in real-time on a million phone screens.
"Ren, step away from the edge!" she screamed over the thundering blades. "The protocol is shifting! They don't care about the image anymore! They just want the signal dead!"
Ren looked at the lens of the camera Sophie was holding. His face, streaked with black war paint and salt spray, looked like a portrait of a revolution.
"Did you hear that, Father?" Ren shouted into the microphone, his voice carrying over the live feed. "The 'Red Protocol' is a kill switch. You aren't trying to save me. You're trying to delete me."
From the helicopter above, a side door slid open. A black-clad figure leaned out, the long barrel of a high-precision rifle glinting in the spotlight.
"Jace!" Ren lunged for his partner, pulling him down just as a bullet sparked off the metal railing where Jace's head had been a second ago.
"We're pinned, Maestro!" Jace yelled, shielding Ren with his own body. "We can't stay up here, and we can't go down the ladder. They're coming up the center shaft!"
Ren looked over the edge. Below them was nothing but the churning, black void of the Elbe River. The drop was staggering, a suicide plunge for anyone who didn't know exactly how to hit the water.
"Klaus!" Ren keyed his earbud. "Tell me the boat is in position!"
"Twenty meters out!" Klaus's voice was barely audible over the interference. "But Ren, if you miss the deep channel, you're hitting concrete. It's a leap of faith, kid!"
Ren looked at Jace. The drummer was bleeding, exhausted, and holding a seven-year-old girl's future in his trembling hands.
"Jace," Ren whispered, grabbing Jace's collar. "Do you trust my rhythm?"
Jace looked at the black water, then back at Ren's dark, determined eyes. A wild, desperate grin broke across his face. "Always, Ren. Lead the way."
"Sophie! Cut the feed!" Ren commanded.
The screen on a million devices went black.
On the tower, Elena Vance watched in horror as Ren and Jace stood up, locked hands, and backed toward the very edge of the abyss.
"Don't!" she shrieked.
The sniper in the helicopter fired again, the bullet grazing Ren's shoulder, tearing through his jacket. Ren didn't even flinch. He looked up at the helicopter, at the man he knew was watching through a remote link in a mansion miles away.
"End of the set, Arthur," Ren said.
And then, they jumped.
The sensation wasn't like flying; it was like the earth had been pulled out from under them. The wind screamed in Ren's ears as they plummeted through the fog. For a heartbeat, there was nothing but the weight of Jace's hand in his and the cold, crushing roar of the dark.
SPLASH.
The water hit like a brick wall. The cold was an instant, paralyzing shock, dragging Ren down into the lightless depths of the river. His lungs screamed for air, his limbs feeling like lead as the current tried to pull him under the massive hulls of the docked freighters.
He fought his way toward the surface, his head breaking the water just in time to see Jace's dark hair bobbing a few feet away.
"Jace!" Ren coughed, gasping for oxygen.
"Over here!" A low-profile zodiac boat, completely blacked out, drifted out from under a pier. Klaus reached out a massive hand, hauling Ren over the side, then grabbing Jace by his tactical vest.
"Get down!" Klaus hissed.
A split second later, the radio tower above them erupted in a bloom of orange fire. The contractors hadn't waited—they had demoed the transmitter platform to ensure the broadcast was dead. Metal rained down into the water, hissing as it sank.
"They think we were on that platform," Jace panted, lying on the floor of the boat, clutching Ren's hand so hard it hurt.
"Let them think it," Klaus said, opening the throttle. The zodiac cut through the water, invisible in the fog. "For the next hour, the world thinks the Ghost of Berlin is actually a ghost. That gives us exactly enough time to get to the airport."
Ren looked back at the burning tower. The "Golden Boy" was gone. The "Nobody" had survived the fall.
"We aren't going to the airport, Klaus," Ren said, his voice cold and sharp.
"Then where the hell are we going?"
Ren looked at the black war paint on his hands. "We're going back to the mansion. Arthur thinks he's won. He's going to be alone, celebrating his 'tragedy.' And I still have the key to the back door."
Jace sat up, his eyes widening. "Ren... that's suicide. The whole security team will be there."
"No," Ren said. "The security team is here, at the docks, looking for our bodies. The house is empty, Jace. Just a man and his ghosts. It's time for the final confrontation."