Chapter 16 - The Tactical Surrender
The heavy machine guns on the helicopters whirred to life, aiming directly at the wooden walls of the racing stables.
Ghost, the massive white stallion, reared up inside his stall, letting out a terrified, echoing scream that shattered Elara’s heart.
Silas stood completely still on the patio, his green energy pulsing wildly, calculating the impossible odds of saving the animals in time.
If he used his kinetic blast to destroy the choppers, the falling shrapnel and exploding fuel would incinerate the barns anyway.
Commander Graves tapped her cybernetic eye, completely unbothered by the deadly standoff unfolding on the lawn.
Ten seconds, Elara, before I turn this animal sanctuary into a slaughterhouse.
Elara looked at Silas, her glowing purple eyes slowly fading back to their normal, frightened brown hue.
She slowly raised her hands in the air, allowing the terrifying, destructive aura to sink back into the depths of her blood.
Stand down, Silas, do not attack them.
Silas clenched his fists, his jaw tight with absolute fury, but he slowly let his green energy dissipate into the cold wind.
Graves smirked, snapping her fingers at two massive guards who immediately rushed forward with heavy, reinforced titanium shackles.
They clamped the cold, heavy metal around Elara’s wrists, treating her with the extreme caution one would use on a nuclear bomb.
As they dragged her toward the lead helicopter, Elara locked eyes with Silas one last time.
She did not scream or cry, but instead gave him a single, barely perceptible nod toward the forest treeline.
It was a silent, desperate command to go back to the underground cave and find the answers hidden in his grandfather's journals.
The mercenaries threw Elara into the back of the chopper, strapping her securely into a heavy metal restraint chair.
Graves climbed into the seat opposite her, crossing her legs as the aircraft lifted violently into the stormy sky.
You are making the right choice, Elara, the Syndicate will teach you how to properly aim that beautiful destructive power.
Elara looked out the small window, watching her beautiful sanctuary shrink into the distance as the storm clouds swallowed them.
I am not a weapon for you to aim, Graves.
May you like
She leaned forward against the heavy restraints, a faint, deadly purple spark dancing across her shackled fingertips.
I am the bomb that is going to tear your entire Syndicate to the absolute ground.
