war of hearts

ch.6

𝘼 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙜𝙤

He ran a finger over the dusty window and as he pulled his hand away, he cast a glance over his shoulder at the girl standing silently in the doorway. She looked as though she were no older than sixteen,perhaps even younger.

And he hoped she was as gullible as she seemed.

"You have my word," he said, his voice low and even.

She kept her expression stoic, her eyes betraying nothing as she stepped closer to him. Without a word, she extended her wrist.  He recoiled inwardly at the sight, a wave of repulsion washing over him.

"You need to feed," she said, her voice cold and matter of fact,

He sneered, the suggestion grating on him like a personal affront. Did she truly think him a savage? The mere thought was insulting. He was many things, but he was not that. His gaze met hers, and he spoke with a measured tone that barely concealed his disdain.

"Whatever notion you may harbor about me, I assure you, I am not so loathsome as to feed on a child. Not even in my condition."

For the first time, she smiled, and the sweetness of it caught him off guard. But there was something mocking behind her expression. She saw him as a monster,
of that, he was certain. Perhaps she was right.

"Just bring the memoir," she said, her voice soft but commanding.

_________

Marcel raged and raged, the question of how he could ever trust Klaus lingered.

The betrayal cut deep, and now, he was left with a trusted man dead, Elijah gone, and Davina disappearing into the shadows.

He wanted to kill him,truly, he wanted to let out the fury that consumed him, to make Klaus pay for the ruin he had wrought. Yet, beneath the anger, he was worried about her. About Davina. Perhaps more than he was angry at losing an asset.

The other witch was dead, at least.

And if only he could get his hands on Sophie Deveraux…

Klaus would pay, of that, Marcel was certain. If nothing else, he would make sure of it.

____________

"Welcome back, brother," Klaus drawled, raising his glass in a mock toast.

Elijah simply sipped on his scotch, the bitter taste mingling with the bitterness in his heart. The betrayal still lingered, a heavy weight on his conscience. But Elijah was not Elijah if he didn’t cling to the hope that his brother might one day be redeemed. So, he put up with the shenanigans, the pain that Klaus so effortlessly inflicted upon him and everyone else.

"Did you get what you wanted, Niklaus? Was betraying your family worth it?"

Klaus’s smile broadened, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Always so dramatic"

It wasn’t lost on Elijah how careless Klaus was, how little he cared for anyone or anything in his endless pursuit of power.

Rebekah’s voice cut through the tension, her tone laced with irritation. "You two have ruined an ancient rug!" she snapped, glaring at the lifeless body lying on the table, its blood seeping into the fabric.

Klaus laughed. "Consider it a reconciliation gift."

"Unbelievable," Rebekah muttered, her frustration palpable.

She glanced between her brothers, an exasperated sigh escaping her lips. "Have the two of you finally made up?"

Klaus looked at her with a  smile, raising his hand in a mock gesture of innocence. "I'm ready to bury the hatchet, sister," it was as if the notion of reconciliation were a simple affair to him.

"Of course it's easy for you to bury the hatchet, Nik. You weren't the one lying in a box for days. You have no idea what that feels like."

Elijah, ever composed, set his glass down with a resigned expression. "I have grown quite... accustomed to Niklaus's caprices," the weight of years spent enduring his brother's antics was clear in his voice.

If Klaus ever felt guilt, he didn’t show it. But it was his concern for his brother that had driven him to orchestrate the entire charade, the witch avenging her dead vampire boyfriend.

It was the only way for Sophie to perform the locator spell they needed. After all, Davina could only keep track of one witch performing magic at a time.

And it did pay off, even better than Klaus had anticipated. Now they knew what Marcel's secret weapon was.

________

The door was already unlocked. She noticed it the second she stepped into the apartment, her senses immediately on high alert. Her guard was up as she cautiously walked in, her eyes scanning the room.

And there he was, sitting on her couch, casually flipping through her pictures as if he belonged there.

It took him a moment to even acknowledge her presence. When he did, he looked up with a smile, one that was  charmingly unsettling.

It sent a chill down her spine.

"What are you doing here?"

He stood up slowly, his gaze never leaving her. "I just wanted to get to know you better,"

She swallowed hard, her fingers twitching involuntarily as her nerves tightened. He moved closer to her, his presence looming over her slightly.

"Did you know," he began, his tone laced with mockery, "that Marcel's secret weapon is a sixteen year old girl? Who would’ve thought?"

He grinned, and a wave of terror washed over her. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath growing shallow. The room seemed to close in around her.
All she could think about was how he now had no use for her. She was expendable. She was going to die.

"Are you going to kill me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He laughed softly, reaching out to take a strand of her hair between his fingers, his touch gentle yet menacing. "No," he answered bluntly, his smile never wavering. "Marcel trusts you. You might be of more use to me now than you ever were before."

He let the strand of hair slip from his fingers, stepping back as he regarded her with an unreadable expression. "I'll need your help getting the girl to cooperate."

With that, he wished her goodnight, his tone disturbingly polite, and turned to leave.

Hayley’s hand trembled as she stood frozen in place, her breath shallow and uneven,

Playing the game right at the moment, seems to be the only way out for her