"You expect us to trust you?" Silas spat, wiping blood from his eye as he stood up.
"I expect you to want to live," Marcus said, tossing Silas a spare magazine. "The 'Architect'—Elara's father—just put a bullet in my handler's head. I'm a loose end now, just like you. I have a chopper waiting at the base of the cliff. We leave now, or we die in the avalanche they just triggered."
"Avalanche?" Elara gasped.
As if on cue, a low rumble started deep in the earth. It grew louder, a roar that shook the very foundations of the villa.
"Leo!" Elara ran to the panic room, grabbing her brother.
"Go! Go! Go!" Silas pushed them toward the service elevator.
They plummeted down to the garage just as the first wave of snow slammed into the top floor of the villa. The sound was deafening—the sound of ten thousand tons of ice obliterating luxury.
They piled into a modified snow-cat. Marcus took the wheel, Silas took the rear turret, and Elara held Leo tight in the middle.
They burst out of the garage just as the villa was swallowed by the white tide.
"Zurich is three hours away," Marcus yelled over the roar of the engine. "But we have to cross the 'Devil's Bridge.' It's the only way off the mountain, and I guarantee it's a kill zone."
Silas looked back at the mountain. Through the snow and the dark, he saw a fleet of black attack helicopters rising from the valley.
"It's not just a bridge, Marcus," Silas said, arming the heavy machine gun. "It's a gauntlet. Elara, get the thermal charges ready. If we can't cross it, nobody does."