Page 51 of A Mate For Matrix
He twisted to keep her in sight as she began to circle him, slow and predatory.
“What do you mean?” he growled. “Who are you?”
“You are the one chosen—promised to me—in exchange for knowledge.”
Matrix staggered as a flash slammed into his mind?—
A memory.
Elaine Brim, again, only this time different.
She was standing on a research vessel—his mission. The last one. The one that had nearly killed him.
Elaine’s voice was firm. Desperate.
“I can offer you knowledge for knowledge. The Confederation—you need organic bodies. Just show us… how the Hive survives.”
Pain speared through Matrix’s skull. He dropped to one knee, gasping, one hand clawing at the floor while the other clutched his temple. Blood dripped from his nose, pattering onto the metal deck.
“No—” he choked.
The Queen’s voice purred, wrapping around him like a net of cold silk.
“You will submit to me, Matrix. You are Hive. You will be my General. You will lead.”
Matrix shook his head violently.
“No!” he snarled through clenched teeth as visions of worlds destroyed, devoured by this… creature burned into his mind. “You won’t control me.”
“This world you left… it still exists,” she whispered, drifting closer. “And now I know how to return to it. You will guide me. I will kill the one called Gracie before she can stop us again. We will not be defeated this time.”
He gritted his teeth, the fire in his gut battling the ice in his veins.
“I will never serve you. I will never help you destroy everything?—”
Before he could finish, the Queen raised a slender arm, and agony ripped through him.
The pain wasn’t heat or fire, it was pure neurological torment, like every nerve had been replaced with barbed wire and struck with lightning. His limbs convulsed. He screamed—loud, raw, human.
The bridge vanished. His vision fractured—white hot, then black.
“You belong to me, General,” she hissed. “You cannot escape the Hive.”
His muscles seized. He was slipping. The pain tore through his soul now, eroding the last shreds of resistance.
He couldn’t hold on much longer.
He could feel her infiltrating his thoughts, her commands crawling through him like parasitic wires. She would have his knowledge—his memories—his mission.
A final cry ripped from his chest.
And then?—
Warmth.
Soft.
Gentle.
