STOLEN | THE ORIGINALS

3.10 | The Power of Two

[ Chapter Thirty-Eight ]

AS IT TURNED out, it did not matter that Ryan saved everyone at St. Anne's. Lisina and the rest of the Crescent Pack, along with the few witches in attendance, managed to escape the bomb threat without injuries, but he could not save them from the terror that came for them afterward.

The survivors of the attack decided to convene for what they called, The March for the Quarter, a walk through the city in protest against the extremist vampires and their ideals. During the event, a group of innocent witches were targeted. Their chalices used in a peace ritual were spike with poison, killing them all. Ivy being one of them.

But to Ryan's dismay, that seemed to be the least of his and his family's worries.

The dark magic inside Hope began to grown stronger and angrier. To compensate, Hope lashed out in bursts of violence to calm it, which only lasted for a few hours at most. Klaus insisted that he help, having Hope throw him across the courtyard in fits of rage to quiet the urges.

Ryan knew it would not help his sister for long. A sharp tinge filled the air, twisting knots in his stomach. The closer he got to Hope, the worse it became. He hated it. The feeling made him want to storm into her room and rip every last molecule of the darkness from her body. Although, he had not tried. Yet.

Near late morning, Ryan could hear his father's shouts and Hope's screams through the closed door of his bedroom. They were amidst another one of their 'sessions' as he liked to think of them. Hope needed them to rid her mind of the strange whispers that rolled around in her head. Ryan tried to drown them out with music, his television, even a climb onto the roof to focus on the roar of the city, but nothing seemed to help.

When the commotion downstairs fell silent, Ryan set his electronic tablet aside, having grown bored with the stupid game he found a few days earlier, and stood to exit his room. He walked through the corridors to where the metal railing lined the second level of the home. Voices caused him to slow his pace. He continued forward and looked down into the courtyard to find his mother and father in the middle of a heated conversation.

"You are not letting your daughter torture a boy because betting your ass isn't helping," Raylynn hissed toward her husband. Her eyes narrowed, and hair tossed into a very messy bun.

"She needs something to ease the pain. Surely, you understand that," Klaus countered with his features scrunched.

"I understand that she needs that thing out of her head. Is that what you want to hear, that I was wrong to let her take on this responsibility. Then fine - I was wrong."

Klaus sighed and ran a hand through his unruly curls. "That is not what I want. What I want is for my daughter to be alright and to no longer be in pain. And if torturing that boy helps her, then so be it." He spun on heel and strode out of the courtyard without a another word.