Page 102 of Echos and Empires
William’s voice cut in, soft and teasing, the sound like music. “Looks like she’s gonna kill you next, Chris. Like she did with the transmission.”
Emma laughed again, kissed Chris, then William, then Bash and Alex as they took turns holding her, passing her between them, whispering their love and disbelief and wonder.
“Thought we lost you,” Alex said, his voice hushed, reverent.
“Thought I lost you,” she replied, the memory of the moment they left still too sharp, too close. “It’s really done, isn’t it? It’s really over?”
Bash nodded, fierce and sure. “And we’re all here.”
The tears didn’t stop. Neither did the relief.
They’d made it. They’d survived. The worst was behind them, and the future was wide open, just like she’d dreamed it would be.
The mainland thought the island was a farce. Victor was dead. Supplies would be harder to come by, and no more people could come to this island.
But it would be home. It would be life.
It would be theirs.
Emma took a breath, felt the sweetness of it, the impossibility. She let it fill her, let it carry away the doubt, the fear, the burden of what they’d done, of what they’d lived through. Her men were here. Her family was here.
“Are you ready?” Chris asked, his voice soft, the question hanging in the air between them.
Emma smiled, looked at them all, the love of them, the strength of them. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m ready.”
And she was.
More than she ever thought she could be. More than they knew.
They kissed her, held her, passed her between them.
They didn’t stop.
Neither did she.
“It’s time to go home,” Liam said, the words bright, full of promise, full of everything they’d fought for.
It was.
They piled into the truck, the sound of the engine loud, triumphant, an anthem to the new life they’d find. Emma leaned against Chris, her hand in his, her heart full.
They drove off, their hope and determination as strong as they were, as unyielding. They drove off, and the world was wide open, waiting.
THIRTY-TWO
Chris gazedat the sea of faces and swore he could himself reflected in the doubt and fear shining out of their eyes. The weight of the world seemed to gather above them like an ominous cloud, waiting for the right moment to unleash.
Waiting for him to fail after the assertion Emma made just a day ago.
He stood in front of the crowd, feeling as fragile as the hope they placed in him, and breathed in the air—heavy with humidity and uncertainty. How did you repair something so broken? The pressure on his shoulders was nearly physical, a mantle of responsibility he never sought, but now couldn’t refuse. His eyes flickered across the crowd again, locking with several pairs of eyes before he had to look away. Could he really do this? Could he be the man they needed him to be? His heartbeat pounded in his ears, each thud echoing the urgency of his decision.
He knew he couldn’t delay. Even though Victor was dead and gone, his shadow still loomed large over the island, casting doubt and fear that only decisive action could erase. Chris closed his eyes for a moment, the darkness behind his eyelidsa temporary escape from the overwhelming expectations. When he opened them again, only a tremor of uncertainty remained beneath the surface. He swallowed hard, tasted the salt of the ocean in the air, and prepared to make the impossible promise.
“Listen,” Chris began, his voice rough and unpolished like the man who wielded it. “I know the last few days have been chaotic. I know many of you are afraid, uncertain. And I can’t say that I blame you.” He paused, the words stretching out like a tightrope over the gulf of their fear. “We’ve overthrown Victor’s rule. But that’s only the beginning. We want to dismantle what’s left of his regime. Establish something better. A true democracy, but we can’t do that until we make certain every last trace of his genetic programs is gone for good.”
The crowd shifted, a murmur rippling through them like a sudden wind. He saw hope flash briefly in their eyes, only to be chased away by doubt. He tightened his grip on the moment, refusing to let it slip away.
“I’m not going to lie to you. Trust has been shattered. It’ll take time to rebuild. But we’re committed to making that happen. To making sure you have a say in what comes next.” His voice carried over the gathering, strong but not impervious, resonating with his own vulnerability. “You deserve that much.”
