Cyberpunk Edgerunner Rebecca Figure Novelas e Histórias

I concluded and with that I removed the phone from my ear , I slowly stood up to my feet and walked towards my wardrobe, I pulled it open and my gaze met with Damon’s army green blazer. I contemplated giving it back to him but what logical explanation would I give to him on returning it, what if these items does not even exist in his present world and I end up looking like a fool. How in the world would I tell him that we’ve had an intimate encounter before, but I died that night and somehow got reborn without sounding crazy, I exhaled deeply and closed the wardrobe with a soft thud. This would definitely be one of my deepest darkest secret.

“Like... spooky pale.” Yeah. I noticed. “Nice to be here,” the girl said with a gentle smile. “I’m Rebecca.” I stared, unmoving. Her bloodlust was gone—but my gut told me what I’d felt wasn’t my imagination. That girl had the scent of death clinging to her. Still, I turned away. If she was a threat, I’d deal with her later. That Night... After surviving hours of mind-numbing lectures, I got the message. “New assignment. Sending target details now.”

“Please, what?” “I need more…” “You’ll get what I give you.” Rebecca’s tone was sharp, commanding. She reached into the drawer of the bedside table, pulling out a sleek black strap harness already fitted with a thick silicone cock. She buckled it around her hips, the sight alone making Lucy’s breath stutter. Rebecca stroked the toy slowly, teasingly, as if it were her own flesh. “Scared?” Lucy’s eyes widened, but her thighs spread instinctively wider. “N-no…”

And now, watching her shift uncomfortably, knowing my cum was probably still leaking out of her, soaking those innocent bikini bottoms, it took everything not to drag her away right then and remind her who owned her. Rebecca clung to my arm like a trophy, her red bikini cover-up riding up her thighs, nails digging in possessively. She was hot—blonde, leggy, vineyard heiress money—but she wasn't Clara. Never would be. "Happy birthday, baby," she purred, leaning in to nip my earlobe, her breath hot and tequila-scented. "You ready to get wild? I planned this game just for you."

In that place where she had fallen, where everything had burned and ended. The pendant was identical. And somehow it made sense about why he chose this design.. When they were little, he had promised to protect her... And she had given him a charm that looked like a sword. Her pulse stuttered. In her past life, Theodore always stayed by her.. Always helping but but she was too blind to see it.. It felt like the world was replaying itself, but rewriting the script as it went. “Second chance,” she whispered. She clasped the pendant around her neck. It settled perfectly against her neck.

I said to her, knowing fully well that I wouldn't fall for the same mistake twice. The sudden sound of the door opening made me turn in the direction of the door. Even before he walked in, his scent came upon my nose, before I saw him walk in. Daxter. He looked masculine and tall as ever, with his hair shimmering like night itself, and his pair of amber eyes looking so dangerously alluring. Seeing him made me clench my fists at my sides, and a memory voluntarily played inside my head. It was the last scene I witnessed before I gave up the ghost.

⸻ As they prepare to leave Noah’s office… The steel door slams shut. Locks engage automatically. Red emergency lights begin flashing. A hidden speaker crackles. A new voice fills the room. Not Elias. Not the Keeper. A woman. Cold. Measured. At last. Subject B has arrived. Welcome home. The walls begin shifting. Entire bookshelves slide aside. Revealing dozens of observation windows. Behind each pane of reinforced glass… Someone is standing perfectly still. They all look exactly like Adrian. Different ages.

"Senna, did you think getting a second life meant you could do whatever you wanted? Too bad. This time around, I came back too." Her pupils shrank. The color in her face faded completely. "You... You were reborn too?" I did not answer. I just looked at her. Maggie rested a hand on my shoulder. Her voice was gentle, but the weight behind it was unmistakable. "Gage, the police are already downstairs. What do you want to do to her?" I looked at Senna's face, the same face I had once been obsessed with. Now, all I felt was revulsion. "Whatever she did to me and my father in the last life, I want it paid back a hundred times over."

I breathed, my heart stalling out as I stared at the screen on the wall. The projection flickered to life. A live, jangled video feed—inside some warehouse, the floor greasy and dark with diesel and rust in the air. In the middle, four masked men, rifles at the ready, flanked Rebecca Vance. She’d ditched her soaked trench coat for a black tactical vest over her suit. Her hair wild, eyes crazed. The look of someone who’s crossed the line and isn’t coming back. And strapped to a heavy iron chair behind her—Christian.