Page 37 of Echos and Empires
“Absolutely. Mr. Warrington will just want to determine if twins were naturally occurring, due to multiple partners or perhaps something else. Then a new treatment plan will be created specific to your needs”
“So this isn’t normal?” Emma’s throat damn near seemed to close on itself.
“Don’t worry, it’s normal at every pregnancy in different stages. We want to secure the safety of this pregnancy and ensure birth happens without a hitch. With twins, you’ve just drawn attention faster.”
“And how does he already know?”
“Well,” the woman looked away. “He won’t until the message gets to him, but he is never far from the clinic. Richest manin the world and just happens to be a scientist fighting to save humanity.” The obvious hero worship was evident in her tone. “Please, through here.”
Frigid air washed over Emma, and a stainless steel table was the only furniture in the room.
Is this a morgue? What the hell are they going to do to me?
Her pulse quickened with each step, echoing her racing thoughts as she stepped in before Nurse Heather. They thought they’d broken her, that this would finish her, but she’d show them. She focused on what she had to do, turning rage into a promise that burned hotter than fear. Emma held tight to her determination, letting it solidify around her, warding off the terror that waited to creep in. They wouldn’t win. Not here. Not with everything at stake.
It had been days since the ambush on the boat. The memory of flames licking the water and gunfire echoing in the night was still fresh, a brand that would never fade. She’d fought to keep the terror at bay, but now she would possibly face the source of that terror. Her fury surged with each heartbeat, drumming inside her. They thought she’d just sit in that dark cell, scared and alone, but she refused to give them that. She would meet Victor, face whatever plan he thought he had for her and her unborn child. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—let him take any more from her.
“Just wait right here, he’ll be in soon.” Heather gave a small smile before leaving.
Her eyes flicked to the steel door at the other end of the room, determined to ensure no one unexpected came through it. Emma swallowed hard at the worry coursing through her, still making it hard to breathe. She’d cling to what mattered most—Chris, Liam, Bash, William, and Alex—and she wouldn’t let this monster destroy them. There was no way Alex would let anything happen to her.
She focused back on the room, trying to calm herself because she knew stress was bad for growing babies.
Babies.
The smile flicked across her lips even as she took in just how uncomfortable the room was.
Everything was too clean, too orderly, the chill of the room clawing at her skin. The walls, the floors, even the ceiling were a sickly shade of white, like bone picked clean. The harsh hum of fluorescent lights pressed down, a dull roar that threatened to swallow her whole. She wrapped her arms around herself, knowing there were eyes on her, waiting for her to break.
This place reeked of false promises, pretending to offer salvation while death lurked beneath its surface. The stark sterility made her shiver, but it was the intent beneath it all that made her feel truly cold. They wanted her to be afraid. They wanted her to submit.
The voices of her men filled her mind. Alex, always the jokester even in the darkest moments, trying to make her smile. Bash, all gruff tenderness, the protective walls he built around himself lowering only for her. Chris, determined and unwavering, the leader who’d moved heaven and earth to keep her safe. Liam, impulsive and kind, with the softest heart behind his cocky grin. And William, gentle and loving, quiet strength radiating from him as he’d promised everything would be okay.
She closed her eyes and held onto their faces in her mind’s eye— onto the love they shared, the life they were creating together.
Her breath came steadier, the edges of her fear blunted by resolve. She opened her eyes, her focus as sharp as the scalpel they surely intended for her. They’d taken so much already, but they wouldn’t take her. She’d make it back. She’d make them a family.
The door swung open, and Victor Warrington strode in with the air of a monarch inspecting his kingdom. His dark gaze lingered on her, not with the warmth of recognition, but with the cold precision of appraisal. His attire, opulently out of place in the desolation surrounding them, spoke of a man untouched by the chaos.
“Ahh, you must be Emma. I assure you, this meeting was a long time coming.” His voice was smooth and indifferent, resonated with the confidence of someone accustomed to bending the world to his will.
Victor Warrington exuded an aura of cultured refinement that seemed utterly incongruous with the sterile, oppressive atmosphere of the room. His steel-gray hair was impeccably coiffed, not a strand out of place, and his bespoke suit draped over his tall, imposing frame with a precision that could only be achieved through meticulous tailoring. The fabric, a rich charcoal with the faintest sheen, whispered of wealth and power, an unspoken reminder that he was a man accustomed to having the world at his feet.
But it was his eyes that truly unsettled Emma, sending a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the room’s frigid temperature. Those dark blue orbs were like chips of ice, cold and calculating, devoid of any warmth or empathy. They seemed to dissect her, stripping away every layer of her defenses until she felt raw and exposed. There was a clinical detachment in his gaze, as if he viewed her not as a person, but as a specimen to be studied, a means to an end.
His lips curved into a smile that never quite reached his eyes, a practiced expression that spoke of a man well-versed in the art of manipulation. The lines of his face were etched with a quiet arrogance, a self-assurance that bordered on disdain for those he deemed beneath him. Every movement, every gesture,was carefully controlled, a choreography of power designed to intimidate and subdue.
As he approached her, his footsteps echoing on the pristine white floor, the weight of his presence bore down on her. The air seemed to thicken with each step, the room closing in around her until she could scarcely breathe. She fought the urge to shrink back, to cower in the face of his overwhelming aura, but she refused to give him the satisfaction. She met his gaze head-on, her own eyes blazing with a defiance that belied the fear churning in her gut.
“Emma,” he said, her name rolling off his tongue with a familiarity that made her skin crawl. “Pretty name for a woman with so many men at her feet.” His voice was smooth as silk, but there was an undercurrent of danger beneath the polished veneer, a reminder that this man was not to be trusted.
She swallowed hard, fighting to keep her voice steady as she replied, “I can’t say the same for your name.”
He chuckled, a sound devoid of humor, as he circled her like a predator sizing up its prey. “You’re a fighter, I’ll give you that. But you must know that resistance is futile. You’re here because I want you to be, and you’ll stay until I decide otherwise. It’s very important to the success of bringing your babies into the world. Fight me as you wish, but these appointments will happen and your twins will survive because of me.”
His presence was a suffocating cloud, and Emma fought to keep her breathing steady. He moved with an elegance that seemed out of place here, in this brutal new world, as if he’d stepped out of a time before the bombs fell. Yet everything about him was sharp, precise, meant to cut and wound.
“That said, I do apologize for the inconvenience you’ve experienced,” he continued, every word deliberate. “Regrettable but necessary, I’m afraid. You see, I envision a futurewhere humanity’s best qualities can flourish once again. Your participation is vital to this endeavor.”
