My knuckles hover an inch from the polished wood. I realize I'm holding my breath like I'm about to jump off a damn cliff. Maybe I am. Emma's door looks more intimidating than usual. The hallway stretches empty behind me, eerily quiet for the usually bustling mansion.
I knock three times, quick taps that echo in the silence.
"Enter." Her voice filters through, crisp and British and perfectly controlled.
I push the door open, stepping into Emma's office with all the confidence of a guy walking into his own execution. Emma sits behind her massive white desk, back straight as a ruler, platinum hair falling in flawless waves around her shoulders. She doesn't look up from the stack of papers she's grading.
"I figured you'd be halfway to the city by now," she says, her pen scratching aggressively across some poor student's essay. "Magik doesn't strike me as the patient type."
"I couldn't just leave without saying goodbye," I say, my hand still gripping the doorknob like it's the only thing keeping me standing. "That wouldn't be right."
Emma finally looks up, those ice-blue eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my skin tingle. Her lips curve into something between a smile and a sneer.
"How considerate of you," she says, setting down her pen with deliberate care. "I'm sure Magik will be thrilled by your little detour."
I step further into the room, letting the door click shut behind me. The air feels different in here somehow, charged with something I can't quite name.
"She can wait," I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "This is important."
Emma's pen clatters against the desk as she stands abruptly. "You're throwing away an awful lot to go play hero with that little team, Jack." Her voice is sharp enough to cut glass, each word precise and deliberate.
"That's not what I'm doing," I argue, standing my ground even as my heart hammers against my ribs. "Magik thinks I'd be a good fit for what they're trying to accomplish. Xavier agrees. This is about finding missing mutants, not playing hero."
Emma moves around her desk with that predatory grace I've come to know so well. Before I can react, she's standing right in front of me.
Her hands reach up, fingers cool against my skin as she cups my face between her palms. The touch is gentle but somehow feels like I couldn't escape even if I wanted to.
"Did it ever occur to you," she says softly, her British accent wrapping around each word like silk, "that I might know what's best for you, Jack?" Her thumbs trace small circles on my cheekbones. "That everything I've done for you since we met was carefully calculated to help you develop properly?"
My thoughts cloud over suddenly, like someone's thrown a heavy blanket across my mind. I try to step back, but my body doesn't respond. My muscles lock in place, frozen as if turned to stone. Emma's taken control.
"What are you doing?" I manage to say, though my lips barely move.
"Shh," Emma whispers, her eyes boring into mine with frightening intensity.
Before I can protest, she leans forward, pressing her lips against mine. The kiss is desperate, hungry, nothing like the controlled Emma I know. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer with frantic need. There's something unhinged about it, like she's trying to claim me, brand me as hers.
And I can't move. Can't pull away. Can't do anything but stand there as she kisses me deeper, my body completely under her control.
A sharp knock at the door makes Emma jerk back, her concentration breaking. The mental hold on me snaps like a rubber band, and I stumble backward, gasping for breath.
"Ms. Frost?" A chorus of identical voices calls through the entry. "We heard you're back!"
Emma's eyes flash with fury as she whips her head toward the door. "Damn it!" she hisses through clenched teeth.
The mental fog in my brain clears completely as I step back, putting distance between us. My lips still tingle from her forceful kiss.
"Goodbye, Emma," I say quietly, straightening my shoulders.
Her head snaps back toward me, ice-blue eyes turning bloodshot with rage.
"You'll regret this," she says, voice brittle. "Magik can't protect you like I can."
The Stepford Cuckoos knock again, more insistently. I turn away from Emma and pull open the door to find all five identical blonde girls standing in perfect formation, their matching blue eyes assessing me with clinical precision.
"Jack is leaving," one of them announces flatly, not a question but a statement of fact. They must have been listening telepathically.
"Yes," I confirm, walking past them into the hallway. "I am."
Five pairs of identical eyes track me with synchronized disdain, like I'm some insect that's crawled onto their pristine white shoes. Their collective disapproval weighs on me, but I keep walking.
I don't look back, even when I hear Emma's voice, sharp with command, calling the girls inside. I just keep moving forward, one foot in front of the other, toward whatever awaits me with X-Factor.