Ivar's sharp gaze swept over Alexander, his emerald eyes narrowing in a mixture of intrigue and calculated curiosity. He leaned slightly to one side, his weight shifting with predatory grace, his lips curling into a faint smile that was both unsettling and assured. His voice, when he finally spoke, was deliberate, each word dripping with a quiet intensity.
"The tattoo on your skin," Ivar began, his tone deceptively casual, as though discussing the weather. "Describe it for me."
Alexander blinked rapidly, his breath hitching as a flicker of panic flashed across his face. His initial reaction was surprise, quickly replaced by suspicion, his brows furrowing deeply. His hands balled into fists against the restraints, his knuckles turning white. "How… how do you know about the tattoo?" His voice cracked, the fear beneath his defiance evident.
Ivar tilted his head slightly, the movement almost feline. He leaned forward just enough for his imposing presence to close the gap between them, his emerald eyes boring into Alexander's like a hawk studying prey. The faint smile on his lips didn't waver, but there was a chilling edge to it now—a promise of dominance.
"You really think your little secret is safe?" Ivar asked, his voice low and measured. His smirk grew sharper as his gaze flicked briefly to Rebekah, who stood to the side, her arms folded and a knowing look crossing her face. "I know everything worth knowing, Alexander. Especially when my sister has… such a penchant for interesting company."
At this, Rebekah's lips twitched into a cold smile. Her eyes gleamed with a mixture of pride and disdain as she shifted her weight onto one leg, her posture exuding control. "You thought you could manipulate me," she said icily, her tone dripping with venom. "Did you really think I wouldn't tell my brother after what you tried to pull?"
Alexander's jaw clenched, his face twisting in frustration and disbelief. His eyes darted between Rebekah and Ivar, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. "I told you that in confidence," he hissed at Rebekah, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought—"
"You thought wrong," Rebekah snapped, cutting him off. Her lips curved into a mocking smirk, though her icy blue eyes glimmered with contempt.
Ivar straightened to his full height, his smirk fading into something far more menacing. He clasped his hands behind his back, his broad shoulders squaring, as if to emphasize the authority he carried in every step. "Enough games," he said, his voice sharp, slicing through the tension like a blade. "You're stalling. Tell me what the tattoo says—or better yet, describe it. Every detail."
Alexander's breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling visibly. His eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape that wasn't there. His lips parted, but he hesitated, his mind racing. Finally, he swallowed hard and spoke, his voice trembling.
"The tattoo…" he began, his words faltering as he glanced warily at Ivar. "It's a map… of sorts. Symbols, markings that lead to…" He trailed off, his eyes narrowing slightly as he realized something. "Wait. Why are you asking me this? You already know, don't you?"
Ivar's smirk returned, faint but laced with amusement, though his emerald eyes remained cold and calculating. He crouched slightly, bringing himself closer to Alexander's level. His movements were slow, deliberate, and his expression remained unreadable.
Ivar's faint smirk deepened, the sharp edges of his mouth curling with predatory amusement. Slowly, he crouched down until his face was level with Alexander's. His emerald eyes gleamed with a dangerous mixture of mockery and control, never breaking contact with Alexander's trembling gaze.
"Let's establish something," Ivar said, his voice low and commanding, a quiet storm in the still room. "You are not the one asking questions here. If you want to make this even remotely bearable, you'll answer mine." His eyes darkened, and the flicker of amusement vanished, replaced by a cold, unyielding intensity.
Alexander flinched, his body stiffening against the chair as Ivar's presence overwhelmed him. He tugged weakly at his restraints, his lips parting as though he might protest, but the words caught in his throat. His breathing grew uneven, his chest heaving with each labored breath.
Rebekah shifted her weight behind Ivar, her arms still crossed, but the way her fingers curled slightly against her sleeves betrayed her anticipation. She didn't speak, her icy blue gaze fixed on Alexander, as though daring him to defy her brother again.
Kol, who had been leaning against a nearby wall, chuckled softly, the sound carrying a mocking edge. "Careful now," he said lazily, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "Our dear Ivar doesn't like playing cat and mouse for too long. You wouldn't want him to lose his patience."
Alexander's jaw tightened at Kol's words, and his gaze flicked nervously back to Ivar. Beads of sweat slid down his face, and his voice trembled as he spoke. "Fine," he muttered, barely audible. "I'll tell you. Just… just don't—"
"Don't stall," Ivar interrupted, his voice sharp and cutting. He leaned forward slightly, his face so close to Alexander's that the latter shrank back instinctively. "Say what you have to say. Now."
Alexander swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. He avoided Ivar's piercing gaze, his eyes darting to the ground as though searching for courage. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and unsteady.
"The tattoo…" he began, then paused, his brows furrowing deeply. "It's… it's not just a map. It's a list—a set of ingredients. When the tattoo is complete, it reveals everything needed to create a new cure."
The room went deathly silent, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.
"A cure?" Rebekah said sharply, her arms unfolding as she stepped forward, her piercing gaze locked onto Alexander. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her expression unreadable, though the fire in her eyes betrayed her growing interest.
Ivar's head tilted slightly, his expression unreadable save for the faint crease of his brow—a subtle flicker of intrigue beneath his otherwise composed demeanor. He remained crouched, studying Alexander's every movement, his sharp gaze dissecting him like a hawk watching a wounded animal.
"Yes," Alexander continued hastily, his voice growing more frantic. "But it's useless without a Bennett witch. She has to make it. She… she can't tell us directly anymore—something about interference from her ex—but the instructions were clear. Once the tattoo is complete, we're supposed to find her. She's the only one who can—"
"Enough," Ivar said, cutting him off with a low, commanding growl. He rose to his full height in one fluid motion, his imposing frame casting a long shadow over Alexander. His smirk returned, but it was colder now, devoid of any humor. "So that's the plan," he murmured, his voice thoughtful, though his eyes gleamed with the sharpness of a blade. "How… predictable."