In a moment of desperation, I saw Emerson turn away, his attention momentarily diverted. My heart pounded with a surge of hope as I lunged for the airlock control button, a chance to save my friends, to reverse this nightmare. But Emerson was quick, his reflexes honed by a singular focus on revenge. He knocked me down with a brutal force that sent me sprawling to the ground. As I struggled to regain my footing, Emerson was upon me, his hands wrapping around my throat with a vice-like grip. Panic surged through me as I gasped for air, my lungs burning with the need for oxygen. His eyes were filled with hatred, a mirror of the pain and rage that had consumed him. As Emerson's grip tightened around my throat, a desperate, primal instinct kicked in. My hands clawed at his, struggling to break free, but it was like trying to bend steel. His fingers were locked in a vice-like hold, each second draining the life from me, each gasp for air a futile effort against the inevitable.
The world around me began to swim, the edges of my vision darkening. Emerson's face hovered above me, a twisted mask of rage and satisfaction. His eyes, once human, now seemed devoid of any soul, consumed by an abyss of hatred. He was no longer the man I remembered – he was a monster, forged in the fires of loss and revenge. Panic surged through my veins, a wild, frenzied terror. My mind raced with thoughts of Lexa, her final moments in my arms, her whispered words of love. The thought of joining her in death was a small comfort, but the agony of leaving our friends to a similar fate was unbearable. I kicked and thrashed, my body fighting for survival even as my mind succumbed to despair. Emerson's hold was relentless, an unbreakable chain forged by his single-minded need to make me suffer as he had suffered.
Flashes of our friends, trapped in the airlock, their faces contorted in fear and desperation, flickered through my mind. I had promised to protect them, to lead them, but now I was failing them in the most profound way. The guilt was a crushing weight, compounding the physical agony of my impending asphyxiation. In these fleeting moments, my life played out in a series of fragmented memories – battles fought, loves lost, victories and defeats. Each memory was a sharp stab of regret, a reminder of roads taken and roads forsaken. The faces of those I had loved and lost haunted me, their voices a chorus of what could have been. Emerson's voice broke through the haze of my dwindling consciousness, a cruel echo in the chamber. "This is for my children, for all those you took from me!" His words were a venomous whisper, a final declaration of his victory over me. I felt myself slipping away, the fight draining out of me as darkness encroached on the edges of my consciousness. My last thoughts were of Lexa, of the life we could have shared, and of the hope that, in death, I would find some semblance of peace. And then, there was nothing but the cold embrace of oblivion, the end of a journey marked by struggle, love, and an unyielding fight to make a difference in a world that was often too cruel to bear.
Emerson's taunting question, "Any last words for your friends?" echoed in the airlock chamber, a cruel jibe meant to twist the knife of despair deeper into my heart. His face, contorted with malice, loomed over me as I lay there, drenched in the blood of Lexa, the mother of my unborn child. The loss was unbearable, but surrender was not an option. Not while my friends' lives hung in the balance.
In those desperate moments on the ground, Emerson thought my struggles were futile attempts at resistance. But amidst the chaos of my fight for air, I had another purpose. My fingers, seemingly flailing in defense, were covertly inching towards my back pocket, towards the one thing that might change our fate – the flame. With each gasp for breath, I edged closer to my goal. The flame, the legacy of Lexa and the key to possibly stopping ALIE, was my last hope. Emerson, consumed by his desire to see me suffer, didn't notice my subtle movements, didn't realize the plan forming in my oxygen-deprived mind.
"Any last words?" Emerson repeated, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure.
Gathering the last shred of my strength and will, I managed to gasp out the words that held a flicker of hope. "Yeah. Ascende superius," I choked out, invoking the activation phrase for the AI.
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Cloaked Heart (Silent Moments Series: Book 3)
FanfictionKegan Foster is forced from his refuge. He could have stayed there forever if he'd been allowed. He couldn't hurt anyone alone in the woods. That is until he was drug right back into the war. Now that he was back, he had to make a choice. But who wo...
