Standing before the reinforced bulkhead, Abir didn't hesitate for a single microsecond. He unclipped a block of military-grade C4 from his tactical rig, slapped it directly over the biometric locking mechanism, and pulled Arisa behind the stone throne for cover.
"Three... two... one... Down!" Abir growled.
*BOOM!*—A pressurized detonation rocked the subterranean chamber. The reinforced door was ripped entirely off its hinges, collapsing into the dark corridor beyond. Before the dust could even settle, Abir crossed the threshold with his Desert Eagles raised.
The corridor led out onto a massive open-air helipad jutting out from the mountain peak. Draco's private escape chopper was already spooled up, its rotors creating a localized hurricane. Draco was limping heavily toward the open cabin door, guarded by his final four executive security assets.
They tried to open fire, but Rider's sniper units had already established a perimeter lines on the higher ridges. Four synchronized, suppressed cracks echoed through the valley, and Draco's remaining guards dropped instantly to the floor.
Panic-stricken, the pilot pulled collective, lifting the chopper three feet off the pad. Draco lunged forward, grabbing the landing skid, desperately trying to haul himself into the cabin.
"You can't touch me, Abir Khan!" Draco screamed like a lunatic over the engine roar. "You will never leave Mexico alive!"
Abir didn't reply. His face remained a mask of absolute, unyielding coldness. He pivoted on his heel, sprinting back into the grand hall where the dark silhouette of the **H2R** sat idling. He threw his leg over the saddle, pinned the throttle, and aimed the supercharged machine directly toward the edge of the helipad launch ramp.
As the digital speedometer flashed near 300 km/h, Abir launched the H2R straight off the cliffside! The machine flew through the mountain air like a mechanical raptor, slamming its front tire directly onto the landing gear of the hovering helicopter. The violent kinetic impact sent the chopper tilting dangerously out of control.
While airborne, Abir abandoned the handlebars, executing a lethal combat dive through the open cabin door. He wrapped his hands around Draco's tactical vest, using his own body weight to wrench the syndicate leader clean out of the aircraft.
*CRASH!*—Abir and Draco slammed violently onto the reinforced concrete of the helipad below. The H2R drifted hard on its side, its carbon-fiber chassis absorbing the friction. Above them, the pilotless chopper listed hard into the mountain ridge, erupting into a catastrophic fireball.
Draco lay broken and bleeding on the concrete, his global syndicate reduced to ash. Abir walked over, his heavy boot pressing down onto Draco's chest, pinning him to the earth. He leveled the hot muzzle of his Desert Eagle directly between Draco's eyes.
"Abir... wait..." Draco gasped, coughing up crimson. "I can transfer half of the global syndicate registry to your name... just let me live..."
"I already own the streets, brother," Abir whispered, his voice cutting through the wind like a razor. "And your entire empire isn't worth a single tear from Arisa's eyes."
*BANG!*—A single, heavy caliber report echoed across the Juarez valley. Draco's eyes rolled back, turning glassy and vacant. The reign of the global dragon was officially over.
Arisa walked up beside him, her boots clicking softly against the concrete. She placed a gentle hand over Abir's bleeding knuckles. Beyond the burning wreckage, the morning sun was rising over the horizon, casting an amber glow over a new era.
Abir looked at her, a rare, soft smile breaking through his dark exterior. "The ledger is clear, my Queen. Let's go home."
---