Experiment of Fate ~ A Bellamy Blake story

12 - Greatest fear

The air was thick with ash and tension, the battlefield littered with the charred remains of those who had dared stand in her way. Isla's chest heaved, her flames still crackling faintly around her, though her control over them wavered. Across from her, Pike stood like a dark monolith, his eyes glinting with a malevolent light as he took a step forward.

"That's where you're wrong!" His voice boomed, cutting through the chaos like a blade. A cruel smile twisted his lips. "You will be my greatest weapon."

The words sent an icy dread coursing through Isla's veins, even as her skin burned with residual heat. She could feel Lincoln's hands on her shoulders, his touch grounding but desperate. His voice was strained, trembling with urgency. "Isla, stop! You don't want this! You don't want to be his weapon! You need to run!"

His grip tightened, but her body was a furnace of untamed energy. A gasp tore from her throat as she felt his skin sear against hers. Lincoln recoiled with a hiss of pain, his palms blistering from the contact.

"No!" Isla's heart clenched as she saw the anguish etched across her brother's face. She tried, with every ounce of willpower she had left, to pull the fire back inside, to douse the flames threatening to consume her—but she was too slow. Too late.

Pike moved with brutal efficiency, his fist colliding with the side of her head. Stars exploded in her vision, and the ground tilted beneath her before everything descended into suffocating blackness.

--

When Isla came to, the world was a blur of light and sound. Her head pounded, and her arms ached, bound cruelly behind her back. She blinked, trying to orient herself. The scent of rain mingled with the acrid stench of burning, and as her vision cleared, her surroundings came into sharp focus.

Guards surrounded her, their expressions grim and unyielding. Panic clawed at her chest as she struggled against her restraints, her eyes darting frantically until they landed on Lincoln.

He knelt in the mud, his face bruised but calm. Pike stood before him, looming like a predator savoring its prey. The sight sent a jolt of terror through Isla's heart, and she strained against her bindings, the rough ropes biting into her wrists.

"Lincoln!" Her voice cracked, raw with fear and desperation.

He turned his head, meeting her gaze with a soft smile that broke her in ways words never could. "I love you, little one," he said, his voice steady despite the storm raging around them. It was a voice filled with warmth and acceptance, a voice she had relied on her entire life.

"No," Isla whispered, her chest tightening as tears blurred her vision. "NO, no, NOOO!" The words grew into a scream as Pike pulled a pistol from his belt, the barrel gleaming under the dreary light.

No.
No.

Time seemed to slow as the rain began to fall, soft and steady, masking the tears streaming down her face. Lincoln tilted his head back, letting the drops wash over him, his expression serene even as death loomed closer. Isla's flames flared wildly, her body trembling with the force of her grief and rage.

The guards holding her cried out as the heat seared their hands, and in a desperate surge, she tore free from their grasp. Fire erupted around her, consuming everything in its path, but her focus was on one thing—saving Lincoln.

But she was too late.

The crack of the gunshot ripped through the air, louder than thunder, more devastating than any storm. Isla froze, her flames sputtering as she watched Lincoln collapse, his body crumpling lifelessly into the mud.

"NO!" The scream tore from her throat, primal and heart-wrenching. She stumbled forward, falling to her knees beside him. Her hands shook as she cradled his head in her lap, the warmth of his skin slipping away with every passing second.