C5- Stronger than this.

Elijah's POV

With my eyes in slits, I watch as the woman's toe twitches ever so slightly. The rope with which Jet had bound her to the iron chair, cuts into her skin causing a deep bruise to form.

A delayed tear rolls down her inflamed cheek as her gaze falters under Jet's intense stare.

"That's all I know, I swear." She whimpers, her voice trembling.

My jaw ticks as I detect the lie. Again!

Simmering just below the surface is a cluster of fury but I keep it in check.

For now.

Jet's fist flexes once more, his eyes blazing with a fierce intensity. But before he can carry out his thoughts, Klaus's hand shoots out, grasping Jet’s wrist and holding him back.

"Enough," Klaus says, evenly. "She's told us all she's going to."

The woman's gaze drops to the floor, her eyes take in the sight of her partner's unconscious body before squeezing shut immediately. As if envisioning her tormenting end, a sob escapes her lips, and her face crumbles in fear.

"Disgusting," Klaus states, his voice taking on a darker tone as he unsheathes his claws. The sharp tips glint in the dim light and the woman's eyes fly open, she shrinks back in her chair, her eyes fixed on the deadly claws.

"It's a shame. You are just another unfortunate puppy used by a cowardly master. We'll be expecting him, but this time from his new plaything." Klaus says, and the woman's face contorts, her eyes welling up with tears.

Jet clearly noticing the subtle change in her demeanor, takes a step back, allowing Klaus to take the reins.

"I don't care." She spits out, still trying to maintain a brave facade.

Having had enough, I pull out my rifle from my back pocket, ready to move on to more pressing matters. But before I can take a step, Klaus raises a hand, his eyes still fixed on the woman. It's a subtle gesture, but I know it's a request for one last minute.

Sitting back down and keeping my rifle to myself, I wander how Klaus knows me so well; he's aware of my patience wearing thin. I give him a silent nod, allowing him to continue his interrogation.

Jet flips his phone open, his thumbs flying across the keyboard as he types out a message. He turns the screen towards the woman, and her eyes widen in horror.

For a moment, she sits there, her gaze fixed on the image displayed on the screen. I can see the shock and disgust written across her face, and I know exactly what Jet's shown her.

It's a picture of her boss - her lover, judging by her reaction - He is surely a propitiatory compromising position with another woman. The image is grainy, but there's no mistaking the identity of the people involved.

The woman's face crumbles, her eyes welling up with tears as she looks away, unable to bear the sight any longer.

Then within a few seconds I watch as the woman stammers, "I-I didn't want any problems," her eyes darting between Klaus and Jet. "We just wanted recognition. My boss, he's been trying to get my attention for years."

Klaus raises an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "Recognition? At what cost?"

The woman swallows hard, her eyes flicking to me before returning to Klaus. "We didn't hurt the human. We knew that would...would piss you off."

Jet scoffs, his face incredulous. "Wait, so you think kidnapping is a good way to get recognition?"

The woman shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. "No, I know it was wrong. But, he's desperate. He wants a connection with me so he can...so he can build his own empire."

As she speaks, I rise from my seat, my towering frame looming over her feeble form. I can feel my disdain for Ystàvà's tactics burning within me as I saunter closer until I'm close enough.

"Ystàvà not only fooled his 24th victim," I say, my voice dripping with disdain, "he chose to pick up a strategy dumber than the worst he's used in all his twenty years of pursuit.

"I'll give you a choice," I tell the woman, my voice firm. "You can continue to work for a coward, or you can eliminate the coward and start anew."

The woman's eyes widen in panic, and she shakes her head frantically. "I-I can't," she stammers. "I can't kill someone I love."

My expression turns dark, my eyes narrowing in disgust. "Love," I sneer. "A pathetic excuse for weakness. A bond that only serves to manipulate and control."

I take a step closer to her, my whisper, menacing. "Love is a poison, a disease that infects the mind and soul. It's a vulnerability, a weakness that can be exploited and destroyed."

I watch in satisfaction. The woman's face contorts, and she breaks into a sob, her body shaking uncontrollably. "I'll do it," she chokes out, her voice barely audible beneath her sobs.

But I hear them all prepared.

Just then, a guard walks in, sweating profusely from what I know would be another intense training session. "Alpha?" he says, bowing subtly.

I turn my head, giving him a nod.

"The human, she's awake." He reports.

My heart skips a beat, like a malfunctioning motor.

My mind instantly goes to Vynessa.

I look back at the woman, bruised and bleeding, and my expression hardens. "Wash her and help her rest in the west wing," I instruct Jet and Klaus.

Jet nods, his expression neutral, while Klaus's eyes flicker with a hint of curiosity.

I stride back to the north wing, my thoughts once again fixed on the human I'd been too reluctant to check up on since yesterday.

As I enter, I'm surprised by the fruity scent that wafts through the air. Is it grapes, apple? I'm not sure, but I can definitely pick out the underlying pine scent that I've grown accustomed to.

"Sir," Jennifer, my office assistant, greets, walking up to me. "You have a meeting this afternoon with Mr. Rogers to discuss the possibility of a contract review."

But before she can continue, my attention is stolen by something - or rather, someone.

As I gaze at Vynessa, my eyes devour every inch of her form. She's wearing my white shirt, and it's a revelation. The risky reveal of her chest, the way it stops mid-thigh, the flawless pale skin that looks so blank and ready for some imprint... it's all so inviting.

My mind reels with the sensations she evokes. Her skin looks like alabaster, smooth and clean. The shirt clings to her curves, accentuating the swell of her breasts and the slimness of her waist. Her hair is a bit messy up but it only adds to her irrisistability... her lips look like a living temptation, a promise of sweetness and surrender.

My cock twitches, and my hand fists beside me as I struggle to rein in my emotions. What sort of power does she wield to bring back a feeling I'd long lost just by wearing my shirt?

No, it isn't her! It's the goddamn mate bond. Fuck it, I'm stronger than this. Some weakling is not going to waltz into my life and undo sixteen years of hard work. I'll have to find a way to break this cursed b

ond without bringing another curse upon myself.