The moment the reinforced door rumbled shut behind Domino and her unconscious cargo, the adrenaline that had sustained me evaporated, leaving a bone-deep exhaustion in its wake. The forge was a wreck. The ceiling was torn open, the floor was slick with hydraulic fluid, and the air was thick with the scent of ozone and cordite.
Emma stood amidst the chaos, her diamond form having receded, leaving her looking pale and vulnerable in my baggy clothes. She wasn't looking at the damage; she was looking at me, her gaze intense and unnervingly perceptive.
"You didn't just give her a better offer, Alex," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "I was close enough to feel it. That... pressure. That was you. In her head."
I sank onto a nearby crate, too tired for deception. This was a moment of truth. She had seen my power, seen the dungeon. She deserved more than a clever lie.
"You're right," I admitted, my voice low. "I edited her memories. I took the contract from Winston Frost and put my name on it instead."
A flicker of something—fear? fascination?—crossed her face. "You can do that? Just... rewrite someone's mind?"
"It's not that simple," I hedged. "It was a targeted, surgical strike. And it was the only way to win. Her power... it's a kind of probability manipulation. Perfect luck. You can't fight it head-on. Traps fail, guns jam, ricochets happen. The only way to beat her was to make it so she wasn't fighting us in the first place."
Emma processed this, her expression unreadable. She walked over, her heels clicking softly on the concrete. "So you violated her mind. You took away her free will and made her a puppet." The words weren't an accusation, but a clinical, detached statement of fact.
"I gave her a better employer and a massive raise," I countered, a bit defensively. "Is she worse off now than she was taking blood money from your father?"
"That's not the point, Alex," she shot back, her voice sharp. "The point is the principle. What's to stop you from doing that to anyone? To me?"
The question hung in the air between us, heavy and cold. It was a valid fear.
"You are," I said simply, looking her directly in the eye. "You're my partner, Emma. Not my employee. Not a tool. My partner. What I did tonight was a desperate move in a fight for our survival. It is not, and never will be, my standard operating procedure."
The door rumbled open again, and Domino sauntered in, dusting off her hands. "Okay, the trash has been taken out. They'll wake up in a dumpster in the Bronx with a killer headache and no memory of the last twelve hours." She looked from me to Emma, sensing the tense atmosphere. "Did I miss the part where we all share our secret origins?"
"Just a board meeting," Emma said, her composure restored, though her eyes still held a flicker of doubt. She looked at Domino, her expression hardening into one of cold fury. "There's been a change of plans regarding my father's... retirement."
Domino gave a lazy salute. "I'm all ears."
Emma turned to me, her eyes blazing with a lifetime of resentment and a newfound, burning ambition. The attack hadn't just been a hostile takeover of a company; it had been a personal violation, the final, unforgivable act of a tyrannical father.
"He came after my company, Alex," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "He tried to have me dragged back to his gilded cage like a misbehaving pet. I'm not going to wait for him to try again. I'm not going to run. I'm going to take everything from him. His company, his reputation, his legacy. I'm going to dismantle his empire, piece by piece, until he has nothing left."
Her declaration was so fierce, so absolute, it seemed to suck the air from the room. This was no longer just business. This was vengeance.
I stood up, moving to stand by her side, a silent show of solidarity. This was her fight. But she wasn't alone.
"I'm with you," I said, my voice resonating with a quiet, unshakeable promise. "Whatever you need. Technology, protection, an alibi... you have it."
Domino's grin was pure, unrestrained delight. "A hostile takeover of Frost International? Now this sounds like a fun gig. Where do I sign?"
Emma looked at her new Head of Security, then back at me, a slow, predatory smile spreading across her face. The doubt in her eyes was gone, replaced by the fire of a queen ready to wage war.
The game had changed once again. We were no longer defending. We were on the attack. And Emma Frost was finally ready to take her father's throne.