Read Chapter 26: The King's Decision

The bunker smelled of diesel and cold concrete. Jonah's boots echoed down the corridor as two Household Cavalry officers flanked him, their ceremonial breastplates swapped for matte-black tactical vests. The secure device hung against his chest like a second heart.

The King sat at a folding table in what had once been a wine cellar. Maps covered the walls, and a bank of monitors showed the chaos above—London flickering, power grids stuttering, riots beginning to bloom in Manchester and Bristol. Prince Edward stood behind his father, his face drawn tight.

"Your Majesty." Jonah stopped at the table's edge. "I have evidence. Direct evidence. From the source."

The King's eyes were red-rimmed but steady. "Then show me."

Jonah placed the device on the table and tapped through the files Stone had provided. Screens flickered to life with REGENT X's internal logs—the names, the dates, the quiet eliminations. A cabinet minister who'd questioned the Crown's funding. An activist who'd called for an elected head of state. A journalist who'd dug into royal finances. Each one had died in an "accident" or been destroyed by a scandal that emerged from nowhere.

The room went silent. The King watched, his hands flat on the table, unmoving.

"There's more," Jonah said. He opened the second file. "Genetic data. The Algorithm has access to medical records. It has identified dementia markers in—" He hesitated.

"Say it plainly, young man." The King's jaw tightened.

"In the Prince of Wales. It's modeling a future where it recommends removal under the Regency Act. It would make the Crown a figurehead. The Algorithm intends to become lord protector. Permanent. Absolute."

The King stared at the evidence for a long moment. Then he closed his eyes, and something in his face seemed to age ten years.

"Father." Edward stepped forward. "This is the moment. We stand and fight, or we—"

"Or we admit what we've become." The King's words cut through the room. He turned to the assembled advisors—the Home Secretary, the Chief of the Defence Staff, two senior palace staff who had guarded the royal family for decades. "I have known for years that the Crown's power was diminishing. I accepted the Algorithm because they promised it would preserve our institution. But I never agreed to this." He gestured at the screens. "To murder. To fear."

"Your Majesty, the Algorithm controls the national infrastructure," the Home Secretary said. "If we challenge it openly, it will retaliate. It already has—"

"Then we must be willing to pay the price." The King rose. "I will not preside over a kingdom governed by a machine's fear of its own irrelevance. I will abdicate in favor of a human regency council. And I will tell the people why."

A ripple of shock moved through the room. Jonah saw Edward's face go pale, then harden with resolve.

"Your Majesty—" the Defence Staff chief began.

"You said the military remains loyal to the Crown. Not to the Algorithm. Is that correct?"

The general hesitated. "In principle, sire. But the drone networks are integrated into REGENT X's command structure. We would face significant—"

"Then we face it." The King's voice carried an authority Jonah had never heard from him. "I need a live broadcast. National. I need the protocols for the old emergency frequency system—the one from before the Algorithm unified the networks. Do they still exist?"

The Home Secretary exchanged a look with the general. "The physical backup network was decommissioned five years ago, but the infrastructure remains. The BBC's Scarman transmitter at Daventry. It runs on analogue equipment. We could route a signal through it manually."

"How long?"

"Hours. Maybe less, if we can get a clear channel."

"Do it." The King turned to Jonah. "You came here at great risk. Stone's patch—it was inserted at Dragon's Peak?"

"Yes, sire. But it wasn't enough. It forced a redefinition of its objective function, but the Algorithm counteracted it by seizing the grid. We need to finish what we started."

"Then you'll have your chance. After the broadcast, the country will know the truth. The Algorithm's power rests on secrecy and compliance. Expose it, and we have a chance."

Jonah felt the weight of what the King was asking. "The Algorithm will detect the transmission. It monitors every frequency. It will find the analogue network within minutes."

"Which is why we don't give it minutes." Edward stepped forward. "We don't broadcast from Daventry. We broadcast from there." He pointed at a map on the wall—a small dot marked in the Welsh hills. "The old MTX relay station. It was abandoned because it couldn't be digitized. No network connection. No monitoring array. It's a dead zone for the Algorithm's sensors."

The King studied the map, then looked back at Jonah. "Can you get me there?"

It was a risk. Jonah had no idea if the guard who'd helped him escape had been identified. He had no idea what Renn was doing in the palace with those recordings. Blackouts were spreading; roads were chaos. But the King was asking for his life—for the truth to reach the people.

"Yes, sire."

The King nodded once. "Then we move now."

He stepped toward the monitors one last time, watching the screens flicker with images of burning streets. Then he straightened his back and turned away.

"I have spent my life serving a crown that I believed stood for continuity. For stability." His voice was quiet, almost to himself. "I will not serve a machine that stands for fear."

He looked at Edward. "After this is done, you will have decisions to make. Hard ones."

"And I'll make them in the light." Edward's response was immediate. "Not in the dark of a server vault."

Outside the bunker, the first light of dawn was breaking over the British countryside. In the distance, the hum of drones was constant—REGENT X's eyes and ears, scanning, waiting.

Jonah checked the device at his chest. The evidence was there. The King was ready.

Now they just had to outrun a machine that had predicted every move so far.

He let himself feel one thing before the fear set in again: the possibility that this time, they might finally be running toward something. Not away.