739 Was It Ever Real?
Derek took a step closer to them, the space between them feeling smaller and more suffocating with each movement, "That's why, once this war is over, I will erase both of your memories, so that we can go back to being a happy family like old times."
Rachel's blood ran cold at his words. The thought of having her memories erased, of being forced to forget everything, was almost too much to bear. She thought of all the moments she had with her mother, Asher, of the pain and the healing, and the love that had started to mend her. But most of all, the true side of someone she once loved and respected as her father. She can never forget that!
For it all to be wiped away, to be reset to what Derek wanted them to be... it felt like a nightmare, a future she couldn't even imagine.
Cecilia's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but her face was hard as stone, "You think you can just erase us like that?" she said quietly, her voice trembling with a mix of sorrow and fury, "You think you can play God with our lives?"
Derek sighed as if in regret, "I'm not playing God. I'm simply making sure the family stays together," he said, his voice laced with a sense of pity. He glanced at the Vanguard Corps, who remained motionless, their eyes watching the confrontation with an unwavering gaze, "And if that means I have to take some measures to ensure it stays intact... then so be it."
Derek's voice was cold, commanding as he glanced at the guards surrounding Rachel and Cecilia. "Escort them away," he ordered, his tone devoid of warmth or hesitation.
The guards' faces remained impassive as they gestured for Cecilia and Rachel to follow, their presence a constant reminder of how little control the two women had in this situation. The sound of their footsteps echoed in the vast corridor as they were ushered forward, a subtle tension hanging in the air.
Cecilia's grip on Rachel's hand tightened, a silent reassurance amid the heavy fear that threatened to crush her. They both walked stiffly, hearts pounding against their chests with the weight of what had just transpired. The dread of having their memories erased, of being reduced to mere puppets of Derek's design, gnawed at them relentlessly. They couldn't shake the fear that their lives were slipping further and further out of their control.
—
Not long after,
They arrived at the deepest part of the Infinity Tower, a floor they'd never seen before. The walls were sterile and cold, lit only by faint lights that flickered dimly. The air was thick with tension.
As they approached an elevator, Rachel's eyes scanned the unfamiliar surroundings. She couldn't help but wonder what this place was. Her mind raced, but she found herself unable to speak the words aloud.
"What is this place...?" Cecilia muttered, an unsettled look on her face as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings. Rachel, equally bewildered, followed her mother's gaze, wondering where they were being taken.
"Of course, this is a place I never meant to let you two see or even step into," Derek's voice cut through the air, calm but laced with dark satisfaction. "It's a place where I hide those who just made the worst choices they could," His words were cold, as if he were stating a simple fact.
Rachel and Cecilia exchanged uneasy glances, both of them unable to fully process the chilling implications of his words. The deeper they walked into this unknown part of the Infinity Tower, the more suffocating the atmosphere seemed to become.
Rachel and Cecilia held each other's hand firmly, as both of them inwardly thought of Asher, praying for him to end this evil before it was too late.
—
Nestled in the serene, lush landscapes of Scotland, the Von Haughton Mansion stood as a symbol of both elegance and tradition.
The mist of the early morning wrapped itself around the sprawling estate like a soft veil, the cool air carrying the earthy scent of pine and damp stone. The mansion, though modest by the standards of some aristocracy, held an unmistakable air of quiet dignity. Its towering spires and stately columns reflected a family that had long carried the weight of being High Class Hunters, a name known for their legacy of protecting not just the realm but the very fabric of their world.
But today, that serenity was shattered.
The once peaceful grounds were now crawling with armored guards, their heavy boots crunching over the gravel paths. Helicopters churned the air above as they descended, their blades slicing through the morning stillness with magical precision. As one helicopter touched down, the door slid open with a hiss, and from it stepped Gregory Hart, his blonde hair neatly slicked back, his posture rigid and purposeful.
He surveyed the mansion grounds with a sneer, his eyes narrowing as he took in the estate's imposing presence. He scoffed under his breath, his voice a mixture of disdain and satisfaction.
"Finally," Gregory muttered, his voice a low growl, "These uptight bastards are going to get what they deserve." His gaze hardened as he continued to look over the mansion, his expression betraying the simmering fury that had been building inside him, "Time to take down the Von Haughtons for good."
Inside the mansion, the atmosphere was tense, charged with a palpable sense of dread. The servants and maids, usually busy with their daily routines, stood in hushed clusters, their eyes flicking nervously toward the towering walls and grand chandeliers, their minds consumed by the chaos unfolding outside. Whispers passed between them, but no one dared to speak loudly, lest they attract the attention of the guards.
However, deep within the mansion's bowels, the situation was far more somber. The underground floor, often a place of quiet and reflection, had become a chamber of sorrow.
The air was heavy, thick with the weight of fear, uncertainty, and loss. In the dark corridor, Amelia stood before a small teleportation chamber, her body trembling slightly as her gaze lingered on the glowing circle that marked its entrance.
Her expression was wrought with conflict. Her usually zealous demeanor was now shattered, her heart in turmoil. Tears glistened in her eyes as she looked between Logan and Isla, her parents who stood before her, their own expressions pained but resolute.
"No..." Amelia's voice cracked as she spoke, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, "I can't leave and let them take away both of you."
Damn :#
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