CLICK!
Cyril was on the ground when the door slowly opened, her face wounded and bleeding, her hair disheveled. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle.
She tried to lift her head, to see who had just entered the room, but her vision was blurred and unfocused, making it impossible to make out any details.
Her once bright green eyes were now clouded with pain and exhaustion. She winced as she tried to move, her body aching all over.
Every movement hurt, but she forced herself to try to stay awake. She needed to know who had come in.
Was it someone to help her or someone who wanted to hurt her more.
The room around her seemed to spin, and she could barely make out the shape of the person standing in the doorway.
Her mind was full of questions, but she couldn't speak because her mouth was covered with a ball gag. She tried to move her jaw, to say something, but the gag muffled any sound she made.
The figure moved closer, and she tried to focus on the face, but it was too hard. Her head hurt, and she felt herself getting weaker because of the drugs.
When the hazy figure got near her, she felt him untie the gag in her mouth. She took a deep breath, her lips trembling as she finally felt the restraint removed.
She tried to speak, but her voice was weak and shaky. "Who... who are you?" she whispered, her voice trembling .
"It's okay," a calm voice said. "You're safe now."
Cyril wanted to believe the words, to feel comforted, but the pain and confusion were too much.
Her vision kept getting blurrier, and she felt herself fading, the world around her growing darker.
In her last moments of being awake, she hoped that whoever had found her would help her and keep her safe.
And then, with a final, shaky breath, she let the exhaustion take her.
"You've suffered a lot," Reign muttered aloud as he gently fixed her hair. He still couldn't understand why he was doing all of this.
Maybe he had gone soft, or perhaps there was something special about her that drew him in. Some kind of unique charm
His mind raced with questions, but he pushed them aside, focusing on her.
Her breathing was shallow, and she looked so fragile. He felt a surge of protectiveness, a need to be there for her, even though he didn't fully understand why.
"I will kill everyone related to this incident," he whispered with a cold tone, more to himself than to her.
"Come on, come on," he muttered, his fingers pulling the Cyclic Stick , trying to stabilize the spinning.
The wind howled around him as the helicopter continued its erratic movements in the sky.
"Shit! Shit Shit," he growled, his jaw clenched .
He knew his power armor gave could him surviving chance.
As long as the helicopter didn't explode, his survival odds remained high.
"Hold together you piece of junk,," he muttered through gritted teeth, his knuckles white as he gripped the controls.
"Not today," he muttered defiantly to himself. "I won't go down like this."
He fought against the spinning, using every ounce of strength from the power armor to wrestle the helicopter back under control.
The strain was immense, but he refused to give up. The Hewlet name, his family's honor, depended on his ability to survive this ordeal.
And as if by a miracle, he managed to barely wrestle the helicopter back under control just in time for him to emergency land it .
CRASH!
The aircraft descent was rough, crashing onto another building rooftop with a loud, bone-jarring impact.
But, thanks to his last-minute save and the protection of his power armor, he emerged with barely any injuries at all.
"You can't kill me bastard! I am born lucky! " Vincent exclaimed in pure ecstasy , his voice hoarse with adrenaline as he gripped the controls tightly.
Next, he took a deep breath, laughing almost maniacally. He felt a rush of liberation and empowerment after pulling off that stunt.
As he calmed down a bit, he noticed a stainless steel flask containing alcohol in one of the compartments.
To soothe his agitation, he grabbed it and drank deeply, savoring the moment.
It was true what they said about near-death experiences—people learned to appreciate life more.
He felt as though everything around him had more vivid colors now, and he began to contemplate all the ways he could enjoy life even more in the future.
"Is this red wine?" he murmured to himself, noticing a drop of red liquid along the flask.
As he focused, a burning hot sensation throbbed in his forehead. Raising his hand to check, he surprisingly saw his own blood smeared on his palm.
"Fuck..." he uttered, his voice trailing off before his head slumped down.