The lower helipad level of Chalet des Cimes was an arena carved from granite, ice, and raw adrenaline. The sheer drop-off along the southern lip fell six hundred vertical meters into the freezing darkness of the frozen valley below. The sub-zero wind screamed over the edge like a circular saw, tearing loose powder into whirling blinding vortexes that obscured the red runway beacons. When Alexander von Berg stepped through the…
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