Alaric returned to the dimly lit cell, the door clanging shut behind him with a metallic finality that echoed in his ears. The sharp sting of needles and the ache from their incessant prodding lingered like phantom talons raking his skin. He pressed his back against the cold stone wall, sliding down until he sat on the floor, knees pulled to his chest.
The air was stale, thick with the scent of mildew and dried blood from both of them. Alaric's lips twitched into a hollow smile, his gaze fixed on the far wall, unblinking. Slowly, he began to rock back and forth, a motion that started subtle but grew erratic. His head tilted forward, then slammed back against the wall with a sickening thud. The first blow left a faint mark on the stone; the second sent a sharp jolt through his skull.
Again.
And again.
The pain felt electric, a cruel shock that briefly snapped the chaos in his mind into focus. A laugh bubbled up from his throat, low and broken, before spilling into the room in jagged bursts. His laughter echoed off the walls, sharp and unhinged, as if the cell itself were mocking him.
His fingers clawed at the stone floor, nails scraping until they cracked. His breathing quickened, and his eyes darted wildly, glassy and bloodshot. "Dr. Halloran," he hissed, spitting the name like venom. He grinned through bloodstained teeth. "Elias. Selene. Eleanor. The guards. All of you." The names tumbled from his lips, one by one, like a twisted litany.
His stomach churned at the thought of them—at their smug faces, their condescending voices, their hands that dared to touch him, to restrain him. The blood dripping down his temple mixed with sweat, the metallic scent flooding his senses. His tongue darted out to lick at the corner of his mouth, his grin widening as his thoughts turned darker.
The shadows of the cell seemed to close in, twisting and writhing as his laughter deepened. His mind painted vivid pictures of their terrified faces, their bodies trembling, their screams echoing just for him. He didn't need to act now. No, not yet. But soon.
"Soon," he whispered to himself, the word rolling off his tongue like a promise. His laughter died into a low hum as he leaned his head back against the wall, blood smearing behind him like a cruel signature.
His lips twitched into a crooked smirk, his breath shallow as he rocked forward once more. "I'll be free," he murmured, his voice soft but laced with something feral. "I'll be free… and so will they. Piece by piece."
His hands trembled at the thought, the anticipation a cruel thrill running down his spine. He tilted his head back again, pressing it hard against the wall, savoring the sting as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. But his grin remained, sharp and unwavering, as his whispered mantra filled the room.
"Piece by piece…"
Alaric's laughter cut off abruptly, severed like a blade slicing through a tense string. His body stilled unnervingly, his head tilting slightly as if he'd just heard something distant, something no one else could. The unhinged grin that had painted his bloodied lips faded into a hollow expression of despair, one so convincing it could chill even the most hardened soul.
Slowly, his shaking hands reached up to his face. He smeared the streaks of crimson on his skin, almost as though wiping away the remnants of his fractured mind. His fingers trembled, his breaths came unevenly, and his body began to curl in on itself as he slid
onto the bed.
With deliberate effort, he collapsed onto the thin mattress, letting his body sink into it as though crushed beneath the weight of hopelessness. His knees drew up to his chest, his arms folding tightly around himself. His lips moved silently at first, mouthing incoherent words, until a low, guttural whisper emerged:
"Not yet... not yet... not yet..."
The mantra was ragged and fractured, spoken in a voice teetering on the brink of complete collapse. His eyes darted toward the ceiling, wide and brimming with desperation, as if he were pleading with some unseen force for mercy.
Alaric knew what he was doing. Every flinch, every whispered word, every shiver was calculated. If they believed he was breaking, they'd let their guard down. They'd leave him just enough room to strike when the time was right.He knew Eric probably thought he was breaking too and he couldn't help but be secretly amused at the little vampire's foolishness.
His nails dug into the mattress as the door groaned open, spilling dim light into the cell. Alaric froze as he forced his shoulders to hunch, his body shrinking as though trying to make himself as small as possible.
He turned his head slowly, dragging the movement out, as if even acknowledging the sound of the door was a struggle.
The door creaked open, but Alaric didn't bother to look up. The faint sound of footsteps, steady and deliberate, filled the room, followed by the soft click of the door closing behind him. The air shifted slightly, the faint scent of something sweet mingling with the cold, sterile atmosphere of the cell.
Alaric felt the bed dip beside him.Slowly, reluctantly, he lifted his head, long lashes framing his sharp, gray eyes as they met Elias's steady gaze.
Elias didn't speak, his face calm, his expression unreadable. He sat close but not too close, his presence intentionally measured, as if he didn't want to startle a feral animal. His eyes roamed over Alaric's face, tracing the hollowed lines of exhaustion, the faint traces of blood smeared on his head, the way his chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths.
Alaric's lips curled. It was a look of disgust so visceral that it cut through the tension in the room like a knife. His gaze, once pleading and lost earlier in the day, was now sharp, venomous.
"What do you want?" Alaric's voice was low, quiet, but it carried the weight of anger. His body stiffened, and he shifted slightly away, as if Elias's presence was something he needed to shake off like a bad memory.
Elias didn't flinch under the venomous glare, nor did he move from where he sat. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, studying Alaric as though trying to piece together a puzzle. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft but firm, each word deliberate.
"Have they broken you yet?"
Elias leaned back, his gaze never leaving Alaric.
"You're a hell of a lot more interesting than they give you credit for."Elias started, his voice smooth but carrying an edge,
Alaric's lips curled into a slight, dismissive smile, but there was a wariness behind it. "I'm not here for your admiration, Elias."
Elias chuckled, the sound low, almost predatory. "I don't need your permission for that." He took a step closer, the movement slow, deliberate. "You've been playing it cool, pretending you're not exactly my type, but I'm not blind. I can see what you're doing. Playing this game... like I'm not watching—always."
Alaric flinched slightly. His tone was colder now, more direct. "I don't want anything from you."
Elias leaned in closer, his lips near Alaric's ear, his breath warm against his skin. "Well, I want you," he said, the words carrying weight. "After being away from you for so long because of my hunter duties ,I've missed you.And if you think I won't make you give in, you're wrong."
Alaric stiffened, fury flashing in his eyes, and he took a step back. "If you think I'm going to let you have me—"
Elias cut him off, his voice now dark, almost amused. "You resist me, Alaric... and Eric's dead."
Alaric froze, his heart pounding in his chest. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze, and he almost let his guard slip. He was tired—tired of them using Eric as leverage, and it infuriated him. He wasn't that close to the vampire; he shouldn't be feeling like this every time they threatened to kill him. Maybe, though, it was the fact that Eric held the key to his freedom. He hated the thought, but it lingered in his mind, gnawing at him.
"Do think I wouldn't do it?" Elias continued, his voice almost teasing now, as though he were describing something trivial. "You're wrong. I'll kill him. Slowly. Just to make you see what happens when you fight me."
Alaric's hands clenched into fists, his nails biting into his palms. His breath came faster now, the rage surging through him like fire. "I refuse to allow your filthy human hands to touch me or him."
Elias's grin grew wider, dark and full of satisfaction. He stepped closer again, so close now that Alaric could feel the heat radiating off him. "I don't need you to want it, Alaric. But you will. You'll let me in. And you know what? The moment you stop resisting? That's when I'll make you feel something... something you can't pretend isn't there."
"You're out of options. You're going to do exactly what I want. And if you don't, Eric's blood will be on your hands."
Alaric didn't move, his gaze following Elias as he circled. His silence stretched the tension in the room to a breaking point.
Elias paused behind the chair, leaning down so his breath brushed against Alaric's ear. "Tell me you understand," he murmured.
Alaric didn't answer immediately. Then, in a voice like ice, he said, "You'll regret this."
Elias straightened, his smirk returning, more calculating now. "I'm sure you'd like to believe that," he said, his grin widening. "But tell me, isn't this around the time your little pet is due back from his so-called 'training' with Grayson? Though, I wouldn't call it training… More like torture, but who's keeping track, right?"
Alaric sat still, his expression carefully blank, betraying nothing. Elias leaned in slightly, his smile deepening. "I wonder how your guard dog would react if he saw me kissing you. Would he care?"
Just as the words left his lips, the heavy door to the large room creaked open. Eric stumbled inside, pushed roughly, collapsing onto the floor from sheer exhaustion.
Alaric's sharp eyes softened for a fleeting moment as he surveyed Eric's disheveled form. His wild hair, the slight tremble in his shoulders, the faint scuffs on his hands—it was clear they hadn't treated him kindly. But before he could think too much on it, Eric looked up, and their eyes locked.
For a heartbeat, relief washed over Eric's face, his lips trembling with emotion. "Alaric," he whispered, his voice a raw mix of gratitude and pain.
But that fragile moment shattered when Eric's gaze shifted, falling on Elias standing off to the side, leaning casually against the bed. The sudden tension in the room was palpable, thickening the air between them.
Eric's eyes darkened. His fangs descended, sharp and glistening, as his lips twisted into a furious snarl. In a blur of motion, he shot to his feet, a defensive posture forming in an instant, his body a taut line of aggression as he glared at Elias.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Eric's voice was a low, venomous growl, thick with a seething hatred.
Elias didn't flinch. In fact, his expression was almost amused, as though the entire situation was nothing more than a game. He pushed off the wall, strolling toward them with that infuriating smirk plastered across his face. "Now, now," he purred, his tone oozing mockery. "Is that any way to greet me? I just finished dealing with a feisty mother, and now I have to deal with a pet."
Eric's hands curled into fists, his claws scraping against his skin, his muscles taut with the urge to lash out. "Get the hell out," he growled, his voice raw with fury.
Alaric, still seated on the bed, watched the exchange with cold, dark intensity. His mind raced. He had seen Eric angry before, but this… this was different. Eric's protective instinct was a raw, palpable thing, and Alaric felt it like a tight knot in his chest, threatening to pull him under. He knew the moment Eric moved, it would be lethal, and that could end in Eric's death. He could not allow that.
Elias, oblivious to the danger he was in, took a step closer, his gaze flicking between Alaric and Eric. "You're awfully protective, aren't you?" he mused, his smile widening. "It's cute, really. But you should know by now, Eric, that nothing you do matters. Alaric belongs to me."
The words stung like a slap. Without warning, Eric lunged forward, faster than a blink, his claws aimed straight for Elias. But Alaric moved in a flash, stepping in front of Eric, his arm outstretched, stopping him with a single motion.
"Eric, don't," Alaric's voice was low but firm, slicing through the tension like a blade. He didn't even look at Eric as he spoke, his gaze locked on Elias. The command was clear, but the undercurrent of fear for Eric's safety was unmistakable.
Eric froze mid-motion, his furious eyes snapping to Alaric's face. His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, his fangs still bared. "Why are you stopping me?" he spat, his body shaking with rage. "He's—"
"I know what he is," Alaric cut him off, his voice steady and chilling. His sharp eyes flicked to Elias, cold and calculating. "But killing him won't solve anything. Trust me."
Elias chuckled, savoring the moment, leaning back slightly. "Listen to him, Eric," he said with mock sweetness. "Alaric knows exactly how this works. We have an understanding, don't we?"
Eric growled, the sound low and guttural, his fists clenched so tightly that his claws dug into his palms. He stepped back, but his eyes never left Elias, a look of death in them.
Before Alaric could exhale, Elias reached forward, roughly grabbing a fistful of Alaric's hair, jerking his head back to expose his neck. The move was sharp, calculated—designed to strip Alaric of his dignity, to force him into submission.
Alaric hissed through clenched teeth, the sound feral and filled with fury. His body trembled under the pressure, but he did nothing to fight back. He couldn't. If he resisted, if he gave in to the burning rage in his chest, Eric would be dead before the night was over. That thought alone kept him still, locked in place, his fangs glinting in the dim light.
Eric shot to his feet, the chair he'd been sitting in screeching violently against the stone floor as he surged forward. His fangs were fully extended, his eyes wild with rage, his entire body vibrating with the urge to strike. "Let him go!" he demanded, his voice rough and low, dangerous.
Elias only smiled wider, his grip tightening on Alaric's hair. "Ah, ah," he chided, his voice silky, mocking. "Sit down like a good boy, or I'll make sure the two of you never see each other again. Permanently."
Eric froze, his body trembling with suppressed fury, every muscle screaming for release. His eyes flicked to Alaric, who, despite the agony in his body, gave him the smallest shake of his head. The silent command to stand down was clear.
Alaric's lips curled back into a snarl, his fangs glinting in the dim light, but still, he said nothing. His breath came in shallow, controlled gasps as he held himself back, the hunger in him mounting, sharper now, stirred by the pain and the disrespect.
Elias saw the look, and his smile grew even more self-satisfied. "Still thinking you can fight back, huh?" he sneered. Without warning, he slapped Alaric hard across the cheek. The sound of the impact rang through the room, sharp and unforgiving.
Alaric's head snapped to the side, but there was no flinch. His eyes remained cold, burning with an anger so deep it could only be felt, never shown. He bared his fangs, his body trembling with the urge to tear Elias apart, but he remained still. Silent. His rage, contained and dangerous, radiated from him in waves.
Elias, unable to resist, leaned closer, his voice mocking. "No fight left in you, Alaric? Disappointing."
That was the breaking point. Eric moved in a blur, faster than even Elias anticipated. He lunged forward, sinking his fangs deep into Elias's shoulder, tearing through skin and muscle with raw, unrestrained fury. Elias staggered back, growling in pain, but he recovered quickly.
"You little pest," Elias spat, wrenching Eric away with a forceful shove. He reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek black gun, aiming it at Eric without hesitation. The crack of the gunshot echoed through the cell.
Grayson had shot him so many times that Eric had become numb to it. The bullets never seemed to slow him down, his body healing faster than the damage could take hold.
As Elias leveled his gun at Eric, the shot rang out—quick, precise, but futile. Eric's body shifted in an instant, a blur of speed, his movements a seamless dance of instinct and survival. The bullet missed by inches, slicing through the air as Eric pivoted and sidestepped .
Another shot. Elias's expression hardened as he fired again, but this time, Eric was already moving before the shot could even reach him. He was fast, too fast, his body weaving and ducking, dodging the bullets as if the laws of physics no longer applied to him. Each shot was a failure.
The tension in the room was unbearable. The echo of the gunshots reverberated in the air, but Eric's movements made him look like a shadow, flickering in and out of sight.
Elias cursed under his breath. His eyes narrowed, frustration seeping into his composure. He squeezed the trigger again, and this time, the bullet grazed Eric's side, the skin splitting and the blood spilling out. The pain was sharp .
Elias growled in annoyance, clutching his bleeding shoulder.