Run With The Devil

Chains of Control

Deons pov

"Do you have the locks?" I asked Angelo.

He nodded, a grim expression on his face. We had prepared these locks for just this sort of scenario-an emergency measure to restrain Lyra if she ever became uncontrollable. Now it seemed that moment had arrived.

As we arrived at the villa, the sight that greeted us was unnerving. Lyra was lounging on the couch, her dress stained with blood. It was clear that she had been in a violent confrontation. Her demeanor was eerily calm, her eyes glinting with a dangerous edge.

We approached cautiously, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on us. I could see the tension in Angelo's movements as he prepared the locks. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the confrontation that was about to unfold.

"Lyra," I began, trying to keep my voice steady, "we need to put these on you. It's for your safety and everyone else's."

Her eyes flashed with rage as she stood up, the bloodied dress swishing around her. "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?" she yelled, her voice echoing with fury.

"Just to hold you for a while," I replied calmly, though I could feel my own anger simmering beneath the surface. "So you won't run and harm anyone else."

Angelo moved quickly, but Lyra was already trying to phase out of the restraints. Her body began to blur, and I could see her frustration mounting as she struggled against the locks. I watched, a mix of concern and determination in my gaze.

"Lyra, calm down," I said, trying to suppress my frustration. "We're not here to hurt you. We just need to ensure that you're safe and that no one else is harmed."

She continued to rage against the locks, her eyes filled with a dangerous light. "You think you can just control me with these? I'll show you!"

Angelo tightened the locks around her ankles, his hands steady despite the tension. I could see the strain on his face as he worked. The locks were designed to hold her, but the sight of Lyra's anger and defiance made it clear that this wasn't going to be easy.

"I don't want to hurt you, Lyra," I said, trying to reach her through the anger. "But we have to do this. You're out of control, and it's dangerous."

She glared at me, her expression a mix of rage and disbelief. "You don't understand anything! You think you can just cage me like an animal? I'll show you what happens when you try to control me."

As the final lock clicked into place, I took a step back, watching her closely. Her anger was palpable, but I could see the exhaustion in her eyes. This wasn't the same Lyra I had known. She had changed-grown more ruthless, more defiant.

"We're doing this for your own good," I said, though my voice was tinged with frustration. "I need you to understand that."

Her eyes bore into mine, filled with a mixture of hatred and pain. "You don't get to decide what's good for me. I'm done with your rules and your control. If you want to keep me here, you're going to have to deal with me."

With that, she sank back onto the couch, her body tense and defiant. I could see that this was going to be a long and difficult battle. Her transformation had changed everything, and it was clear that regaining her trust-or her obedience-was going to be a monumental task.

As Angelo and I left the room, I could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on me. The stakes were higher than ever, and I knew that I had to find a way to reach her. The chains of control might hold her physically, but the real challenge lay in reaching the heart of the person she had become.

I looked back one last time, seeing her sitting in the dim light, her anger still burning bright. This wasn't over-not by a long shot. And as we moved forward, I knew that the path ahead was fraught with danger and uncertainty.

Lyras pov

I stared at the chains around my ankles, the cold metal a harsh reminder of my confinement. They clinked softly with every movement, resonating with memories from the Lab-memories of being restrained, controlled, and used. My duplicate's words echoed in my mind: I would be more powerful, reaching my full potential.

I focused on the chains, feeling the energy within me surge. The power my duplicate had unlocked was still raw, but I was determined to harness it. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the sensation of phasing, on slipping through barriers.

In a moment of intense focus, I felt the chains' grip loosen. I phased through the locks, breaking them apart as if they were nothing more than vapor. Freedom was within my grasp, and I wasn't going to let anything stand in my way. I phased through the wall and emerged into the hallway, ready to unleash my fury.

Deon's men were scattered, and I attacked them with a cold, ruthless efficiency. Each strike was a release of the anger and frustration I felt-every punch, every kick, every burst of speed was driven by the need to break free, to assert control. The men tried to fight back, but they were no match for my enhanced abilities.

In the midst of my rampage, I felt a strong grip on my shoulder. I turned, only to find Deon standing there, his face a mixture of determination and concern. His hold on me was firm, unyielding.

"Let go of me!" I shouted, struggling to break free. My fists hammered against his chest, my back repeatedly hitting him as I tried to phase away, but his grip only tightened.

"You're not going anywhere," Deon said, his voice steady despite my frantic movements. "You're out of control, and I can't let you hurt anyone else."

I tried to phase through him, but each time I managed to slip out, he grabbed me again, his hold relentless. My frustration mounted, and I felt my anger intensify. Every time I phased through, I was pulled back into his grasp, his strength holding me captive.

"You can't keep me here!" I yelled, desperation mingling with my rage. "I won't be your prisoner!"

"I'm not trying to imprison you," Deon replied, his voice barely audible over the chaos. "I'm trying to help you. If you keep this up, you're going to hurt yourself."

But my fury was all-consuming. I kept fighting, trying to free myself from his grip. Each time I phased away, I felt a flicker of hope, only to be pulled back into his embrace. It was a battle of wills-my desire for freedom against his determination to protect.

Finally, with a burst of speed, I managed to phase away from him, only to find myself momentarily disoriented. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, and I struggled to regain control. Deon's men were regrouping, and the hallway was filled with tension.

Deon's voice cut through the chaos, firm and commanding. "Lyra, please. Stop this. You're only making things worse for yourself."

I glared at him, my chest heaving with exertion. "You think you can control me? I won't be anyone's puppet. I'm done being used and locked up."

Deon's expression softened, but he didn't let his guard down. "I know you're angry, but we need to work together. I'm here to help you, but you have to trust me."

The battle within me was fierce. Part of me wanted to lash out, to keep fighting, but another part was beginning to question my actions. Was I losing myself to my anger? Was there a way to regain control without resorting to violence?

As I caught my breath, I realized that the only way out of this spiral was to find balance. The power within me was immense, but it needed to be controlled, not just unleashed. Deon's words, though frustrating, carried a kernel of truth.

I looked at him, my anger still simmering but now tempered with a touch of resolve. "If you really want to help, then prove it. Show me that there's more to this than just control."

Deon's gaze was steady, and for the first time, I saw a hint of understanding in his eyes. "I will. But first, we need to find a way to get you back on track. We need to understand this power of yours, together."

I nodded slowly, realizing that the path to freedom might not be as simple as breaking chains. It was about finding control, trust, and a way to harness the power without losing myself in the process.