The Story of Victoria Strife

Chapter 12: The Dance of Power

The air inside the room felt stifling. The Shinra building had long been a symbol of power and manipulation, and now, standing across from Rufus Shinra himself, Victoria could feel that legacy coiling around her like a snake, waiting to strike.

The luxurious meeting room, with its dark wood paneling and heavy velvet drapes, was eerily silent except for the ticking of an old clock mounted on the wall. A low lamp cast a warm glow on the pristine table, but the atmosphere was anything but welcoming. There was no one else—just Victoria and Rufus. Alone.

Rufus leaned against the edge of his desk, his sharp eyes tracing her movements as she stood rigid near the center of the room. His lips curved into a slow, confident smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Victoria," he began, his voice smooth and calculated, like a blade sliding through silk. "You've always had a way of finding yourself in the center of things, haven't you? Fate seems to have a particular interest in you."

Victoria said nothing, her yellow eyes narrowing at him in suspicion. She didn't trust him—not for a second. He was dangerous, just like the rest of Shinra, and though he claimed to want peace, his agenda had always been about control.

Rufus took a step forward, his hands resting lightly in his pockets. "I admire your strength, your resilience. You've managed to escape the grasp of so many who sought to control you. But perhaps you and I can come to an understanding." He walked closer, his voice lowering to something more intimate. "Perhaps... we don't have to be enemies."

Victoria's jaw clenched. "Cut the crap, Rufus. You didn't ask me here to admire my strength. What do you want?"

He chuckled softly, his pale blue eyes gleaming with amusement. "I'm merely suggesting that our goals might align more than you realize." He reached out then, his fingers brushing lightly against her arm. The touch was calculated, not threatening, but undeniably personal.

Victoria tensed immediately, her instincts screaming at her to react. She felt her pulse quicken, her skin prickling with discomfort at his touch. His gaze lingered on her face, searching for something—weakness, perhaps, or a crack in her armour.

"Don't touch me," she growled, taking a step back. Her hand twitched, ready to lash out if necessary.

Rufus raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk deepening. "Relax, Victoria. I'm not your enemy. You might even find that I could be... useful to you."

The tension between them grew heavier as Rufus closed the distance again, this time more boldly. His hand moved to her waist, his fingers brushing against her side. The move was subtle, intimate, but laced with an arrogance that set her blood on fire.

Before he could say another word, Victoria snapped.

Her hand flew up, striking his arm away with a force that caused him to stumble back, eyes wide in surprise. She didn't stop there. In a blur of motion, she twisted, slamming her elbow into his chest, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him sprawling back into his desk.

"You don't get to touch me," Victoria spat, standing over him, her body coiled with fury. "Ever."

Rufus grunted, catching his breath as he straightened himself. The smirk that crept back onto his face was almost infuriating. "Feisty, aren't you?" he muttered, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth where her strike had connected.

Victoria stepped forward, her eyes blazing, ready to strike him again. But before she could move, a cold sensation gripped her, freezing her in place.

Suddenly, a chilling presence filled the room.