chapter 32: Unbreakable Bonds

The sky was already a blanket of stars when Ethan finally left the forest behind, his heavy boots crunching on the gravel of the road that led to the cheap hotel where he was staying. The fight against the hellhound still pulsed in his muscles, the dried blood on his hands reminding him of the chaos of last night—and of those words that had escaped him as he looked at Hope, the blue-eyed girl he barely knew but who already felt like a part of him. His body screamed for rest, and he climbed the creaky hotel stairs, the musty smell enveloping him as he opened the door to his room. He tossed his leather jacket into the corner, collapsed onto his bed and closed his eyes, the hum of the ceiling fan drowning out his thoughts of her as sleep swallowed him.

Sunlight crept through the curtains the next morning, waking Ethan with streaks of gold across his face. He blinked, his eyes adjusting as he sat up, rubbing his sore neck. His stomach growled, and he grabbed a sleeveless black shirt from his backpack, pulling it on in a quick movement that highlighted the muscles in his arms, marked by subtle scars from the night before. "Time to eat," he muttered, a crooked smile appearing as he left the room.

At the Mystic Grill , the air smelled of coffee and hot grease, a familiar comfort that Ethan didn't question. He sat at the counter, the leather of the stool creaking under his weight, and ordered the messy-bun waitress, "Chocolate milkshake and fries, please." She raised an eyebrow, but wrote it down.

"Strange combination for a morning," she said, her tone dry. "A vice of yours?"

"It's my favorite," Ethan said, chuckling softly as he drummed his fingers on the counter. "I don't know why. I just know it calms me down." There was something about the taste—the cool sweetness of the milkshake mixed with the crunchy salt of the fries—that felt like a piece of something lost, an echo he couldn't quite reach. He ate slowly, lost in thought, Hope's face flashing back to him as he dipped a fries into the chocolate.

The sun was high in the sky when Ethan arrived at Marty's Auto Shop , the heat clinging to his black shirt that exposed his arms, muscles flexing as he carried a toolbox. The radio was playing Sweet Home Alabama , and Marty greeted him with a grunt. "Day two, kid. Ready to sweat?"

"Always," Ethan said, heading straight for an old Ford that a customer had dropped off. The owner, a man in a battered cap, appeared shortly after, scratching his beard as he complained, "This car is coughing like crazy. Can you fix it quick? My daughter's waiting for me."

Ethan popped the hood, the smell of oil rising. "Clogged carburetor and punctured hose," he diagnosed, grabbing a screwdriver. "One hour and it'll be good as new. Want to wait?"

"An hour?" The man blinked in surprise. "The last guy took days to say he didn't know."

"I don't waste any time," Ethan said, laughing as he dismantled the carburetor. "Stay there or get a coffee. Your call."

The man nodded, impressed. "Where did you come from, huh? I haven't seen you around here before."

"A lot of places," Ethan replied, his tone light as he cleaned a part. "Now I'm here fixing cars. I like it." He smiled crookedly, focused on the work.

Later, a noisy pickup truck pulled up, and a skinny surfer got out with a crumpled board. "Hey, mechanic! My radiator's fried. Want to take a look?"

Ethan brushed his hands off, laughing. "No jacket today, but I'll take care of that." He popped the hood of the truck, checking the radiator as the guy spoke.

"I'm going to the coast next week," the surfer said, gesturing. "I want to catch some waves. Have you surfed yet?"

"Never," Ethan admitted. "But I've ridden a motorcycle down some crazy roads. Does that count?"

"Reasonable!" the guy laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "With those arms, you'd be a real slam dunk on the board!"

"Maybe someday," Ethan said, adjusting a hose. "For now, I'll get you ready to go."

As he worked, two girls walked by on the sidewalk, backpacks on their backs. One blonde whistled loudly when she saw Ethan, muscles flexing beneath his black shirt. "Hey, hot mechanic!" she shouted, her friend giggling beside her.

Ethan lifted his head, hair falling into his eyes, and waved the screwdriver. "Thanks, but the car here is the real heartthrob," he joked, his husky charm making the girls laugh before they walked away, still looking back.

Marty shook his head, laughing. "You're going to be a tourist attraction, kid."

"It's not my fault they like grease," Ethan retorted, returning to the Ford with a smile.

While Ethan worked in the workshop, in another corner of Mystic Falls, Hope walked through the square, the warm sun beating down on her shoulders as she tried to ignore the weight of the previous night—Ethan's words, his gaze, the heat she still felt in her chest. 

She frowned when she heard the school intercom chime, "Hope Marshal, come to the principal's office now." Short and to the point. She sighed, changing course with a low grunt. "Always something urgent," she muttered, quickening her pace.

Minutes later, she knocked on Alaric's door, his face creased with worry as he gestured for her to come in. "Close the door," he said. 

Hope crossed her arms, tilting her head with a wry smile. "A bit dramatic, talking on the intercom like that just to call me, don't you think?"

Alaric ignored the tone, grabbing his phone and waving it in the air. "Not as dramatic as the message Landon left me earlier today, saying he had something urgent to tell me. Can you give me a heads up on what's going on, Hope?"

She hesitated, her blue eyes flicking to the window before returning to him. She took a deep breath, the weight of the truth pressing down on her chest. "We… we've discovered that the monsters are after Landon. Specifically him," she said, her voice firm but with a hint of reluctance.

Yesterday, while we were running away from a wolf, he went straight to attack Landon, but I stepped in front and defended him until she was going to tell him about Ethan but left it aside. 

Alaric frowned, dropping his phone on the table with a thud. "So even if Landon means nothing to you, he still needs help. Just like all of them. And you, Hope, are the best option we have for now."

Hope tensed, her shoulders stiffening as she uncrossed her arms. "I have some issues with that," she said, her tone lower now, almost vulnerable. "Like…Landon and I were dating. Like, epic, super-in-love kind of love, before all this craziness happened."

Alaric mouthed an "Oh," his eyes widening for a moment as he processed that. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his short beard in surprise. "Boyfriends?"

Hope nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Yeah. But no one remembers it. Not him, not you, not anyone. It was all… erased."

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as he tried to read her. "It's strange the way you're saying this," he said finally, his tone careful. "Are you really telling the truth? Because I don't sense any feeling in your words. Nothing. It's like you're reciting a report."

Hope stiffened, her entire body clenching at his words. She ran a hand through her hair, then her face, a heavy sigh escaping her as she tried to find the words. "Something's happened these past two days," she admitted, her voice shaking slightly as she sat in the chair across from him, her eyes fixed on the floor.

Alaric leaned forward, eyebrows raised. "What things? What happened?"

She took a deep breath, her fingers drumming nervously against the arm of her chair. "There's this guy I met," she began, her tone softening as Ethan's face flashed in her mind. "Everything is so different with him. It feels like everything has gone cold when I talk about Landon now. Before, it was so warm, the feeling in my chest…but now, nothing."

Alaric listened in silence, his eyes fixed on her as she spoke. He had only known the girl in front of him for a short time—"Hope Marshall," the mysterious new arrival—but he had already realized that she was no ordinary girl. There was something special about her, a strength he couldn't explain but could feel in every word, in every look. "Who is this guy?" he asked, genuine curiosity mingling with concern. "Do I know him?"

Hope looked up, hesitating for a moment before answering. "His name is Ethan. And he's… a different kind of werewolf entirely. His shape, when he shifts, is humanoid—tall, leanly muscled, covered in dark fur that gleams like shadows, long, curved claws like blades, and these eyes that cut through the darkness, one blue and one green, shining like beacons." She paused, almost lost in the memory of his transformation, so different from the wild wolves she knew—a mix of beast and man, imposing and almost elegant in his brutality.

Alaric blinked, taking in the description. "A different werewolf, huh?"

"Yeah," she continued, her tone lighter now, almost dreamy. "When I met him in the square two days ago, it was so... different. I've never felt that way before. It was welcoming, you know? He seemed to know me better than I knew myself, like he already knew who I was, and that's totally weird, don't you think, Mr. Saltzman?"

Alaric tilted his head, a half smile appearing as he studied her. "Weird is an understatement," he said, his tone thoughtful. "But it seems like this Ethan has gotten to you in a way that Landon doesn't anymore. That's…interesting."

Hope shrugged, a light blush rising to her cheeks as she looked away.

Back in the shop, Ethan was finishing up the Ford, sweat dripping down his forehead as he tightened the last bolt. 

Phew, finally done, the work really doesn't stop here, he said as he ran his hand across his forehead, wiping away the sweat. 

Later in the afternoon, the sun was beginning to set, turning the sky orange as Ethan walked through the streets of Mystic Falls, his hands in the pockets of the leather jacket he had retrieved from the hotel. Work at the garage had ended early, and he found an empty bench in the square, sitting down with a sigh as the cool wind blew through the trees. His thoughts wandered to his family—his mother, with her steady, caring manner; his sister, full of energy; and his other mother, the calm that balanced everything. How are they? he thought, his eyes fixed on a distant point as his chest tightened with inexplicable longing.

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, the old device shaking in his hand as he hesitated. It had been too long since he'd last called home. He dialed his mother's number, his heart pounding as he listened to the tones. When the line was picked up, her voice came through, husky and familiar. "Hello? Who is this?"

Ethan was silent, the words catching in his throat as he gripped his phone tightly, his knuckles turning white. He heard her impatience, and then: "You better not find me, you idiot, because I have no patience for prank calls! Do you hear me? Turn that damn thing off or just say it!" Her tone was pure fire, and Ethan laughed softly, the sound echoing in the square as he shook his head.

"Hahaha," he laughed, still not saying anything, the crooked smile returning as he hung up before she could curse anymore. He put his phone away, his chest feeling lighter, longing mixed with a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time.

The day passed in a blur, and Ethan decided to wander, seeking the freedom that only the open road could offer. He drove to the hotel, grabbed his Harley parked out back—a black and chrome machine that roared like a wolf—and climbed on, the leather of his jacket creaking as he adjusted his body. He started the engine, the low rumble vibrating in his chest, and sped through the streets of Mystic Falls, the cool breeze hitting his face and chest, ruffling his dark hair. He loved the feeling—the biting wind, the speed, the world blurring around him. It was as if, for a moment, he could leave everything behind: the monsters, the secrets, even the weight of the bond he felt with Hope.

He rode for hours, the sun dipping below the horizon until night fell over Mystic Falls, the city lights twinkling like stars trapped in the ground. As he headed back to the hotel, the motorcycle's headlights cutting through the darkness, something caught his eye near the middle of town. He slowed, his eyes widening as he saw Lizzie Saltzman holding a sword that glowed red, Landon Kirby's body slumped at his feet, a red hole in his chest. "What the fuck?" he muttered, screeching to a halt and leaping off, racing toward them.

"Hey, what are you doing?" he shouted, his hoarse voice cutting through the silence of the night.

Lizzie whirled around, sword trembling in her hands as she stared at Ethan, who had appeared behind her like a shadow. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she forgot the chaos around her, finding herself face to face with a tall guy in a leather jacket and heterochromia eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light. "Wow," she said, a nervous smile appearing. "Hey, hottie, could you help me out?"

Ethan frowned, his face serious as he stared at Landon's body, the blood staining the grass. "What do you want?" he asked, his tone firm, the muscles tense beneath his jacket.

Lizzie took a deep breath, pointing to a chain lying on the ground. "Tie me to that tree. Don't touch me, okay? Use the chains."

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Why?"

"I don't have time for a story," she snapped, her tone urgent. "Just do it, please!"

Ethan hesitated, but nodded, picking up the chains with a low grunt. He stepped closer to the tree, wrapping them around her wrists, careful not to touch her skin, the metal links clanking as he secured Lizzie to the trunk. "There," he said, stepping back, still holding the sword she'd dropped.

Minutes later, the sound of quick footsteps echoed across the clearing, and Hope and Josie came running into the clearing, panting. Josie's eyes widened as she saw Ethan standing over her tied-up sister, her protective instincts kicking in. "What are you doing to her?" she screamed, raising her hands as if to cast a spell.

"Stop!" Lizzie exclaimed, pulling at the chains. "I asked him to tie me up!"

Hope stood beside Josie, her blue eyes fixed on Ethan, her heart pounding as she thought: He's here again. "Ethan," she said aloud, her tone heavy with something she didn't want to name, as she watched him holding the bloody sword. "What's going on here?"

Ethan turned to her, his heterochromia eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made the air feel heavy. "That's what I want to know," he said, pointing his sword at Landon's body. "So what's going on?"

Hope took a deep breath, her gaze shifting from Landon to Lizzie. "It's some kind of Oni/demon," she explained, her voice steady despite the confusion inside her. "It possesses people. Whoever touches the host becomes the next. It passes from one to the next like a plague."

Ethan nodded slowly, processing. "Another one of those monsters from that Malivore shit, then?"

Lizzie laughed, a hysterical sound that cut through the silence as she tugged at the chains. "Welcome to my world," she said, her eyes brimming with tears as she poured it all out. "My life is a mess. Sebastian isn't real, I'm freaking out, I think I'm crazy, and now this, I think the demon inside me is the least of my problems honestly."

Ethan listened, his serious face softening as she spoke. When she finished, he gave a throaty laugh, shaking his head. Lizzie stopped, and the three girls stared at him. "What are you laughing at?" Josie asked, frowning.

"Nothing," Ethan said, the crooked smile returning. "It's just that I've met a lot of crazy people. Maybe even the biggest crazy person in the universe." He thought of Lucifer, the shadow that still haunted him, but didn't say the name. "And you, Lizzie Saltzman, are definitely not crazy."

Lizzie froze, his calm tone cutting through the chaos in her mind like a balm. He stepped closer to her, his eyes gentle as he reached out and gently wiped away a tear that had fallen down her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin. "You're going to be okay," he murmured, his husky voice filled with a certainty she needed to hear.

Hope watched, her hands clenching into fists as a sour jealousy rose in her chest—a new, hot, cutting feeling she'd never felt before. Was she the one he was talking about yesterday? she thought, her eyes narrowing as she watched Ethan touch Lizzie. But then, realization hit her like a punch. "NO! YOU TOUCHED LIZZIE!" she screamed, panic exploding in her voice.

Josie and Lizzie froze, eyes widening as they realized the same thing. "Shit," Lizzie muttered, tugging uselessly at the chains.

Ethan frowned, taking a step back. "I sure wish I hadn't come to this stupid place," he said, his tone sarcastic as he glared at the three of them. But then something changed—his eyes glowed red, and a hoarse whisper began to echo in his mind, disjointed words from the past he'd buried. He staggered, his hand clutching his forehead as the Oni inside him babbled, its voice coming out of his mouth in broken fragments: "Lucifer Morningstar… deal… existential wipe… the girl he loves doesn't remember he exists…"

Josie took a step back, her eyes wide. "What's he saying?" she asked, her voice shaking.

Lizzie, still tied up, frowned, her heart racing. "Lucifer? Who the hell is Lucifer Morningstar?" Is he talking about... the devil?

Hope froze, her jealousy evaporating as those words hit her like a bolt of lightning. Existential erasure... the girl he loves doesn't remember... She knew that weight, that pain—it was the same one she'd carried since Malivore. Her eyes fixed on Ethan, who was now shaking.

 face contorted as the Oni spoke further, his voice hoarse and distorted: "I never thought I would enter the body of someone as strong... as special as this boy. For me, it was even easy to enter his head. You don't know the mess that's in here, especially because of you." Ethan's arm raised, his finger pointing directly at Hope as his darkened eyes stared at her.

Josie and Lizzie turned to Hope at the same time. "What did you do to him?" Josie asked, her voice thick with confusion.

"What's going on, Hope?" Lizzie added, pulling harder on the chains.

Hope shook her head, her eyes wide as she stared at Ethan. "I… I don't know," she stammered, but her heart was pounding in her chest, racing as if it were going to explode. Was he… talking about me? Were those words about me yesterday? She thought, the ground seeming to drop away from beneath her feet. Ethan knows me, but I don't know him. Why? Did he fall into the Malivore pit? Did he and I have something before that? It was impossible—she remembered her entire life, every detail, and Ethan hadn't been there until two days ago. But he had touched her so much, a strength that burned inside her chest, an ember that every time she saw him it would flare up like someone had thrown logs, coals, and gasoline at him, bursting into flames she couldn't put out. The epic love she claimed to have for Landon was nothing compared to this—it was a distant, cold echo, while this was alive, wild, overwhelming.

"Ethan," she called, her voice shaking as she took a step forward, but before she could reach him, his eyes cleared for a moment, the blue and green returning to normal. He took a deep breath, his fists clenched as he fought the presence in his mind. "Get out of my head, you idiot," he growled, his hoarse voice thick with fury and determination. In one swift movement, he threw the bloody sword at Hope, the metal spinning through the air until she caught it on instinct. "Thrust it through my chest," he said, his eyes fixed on hers, pleading.

Hope froze, her hands shaking as she gripped the sword. "No... I can't do this," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes as she stared at him.

"Do it!" he shouted, muscles tensing as he held the Oni inside him, body shaking with the effort. "While I control you... now, Hope!"

Tears streamed down her face, her heart breaking as she raised the sword, her hands trembling against the hilt. "Forgive me," she whispered, her voice broken, and with a cry of anguish, she drove the blade through his chest, the metal slicing through flesh and bone with a horrible sound. Ethan gasped, his eyes widening as blood flowed, but then the Oni screamed—a high, unearthly sound that echoed across the clearing. A black shadow exploded from Ethan, twisting in the air before falling to the ground, disintegrating into dark ash that the wind carried away.

Ethan fell to his knees, the sword still embedded in his chest, blood staining his jacket as he breathed in shallow gasps. Hope dropped the weapon, falling beside him, her shaking hands hovering over the wound, unsure of what to do. "Ethan!" she cried, tears falling freely now, her face contorted in pain and fear. "Stay with me, please!"

He looked up at her, the blue and green hazy but still bright, a crooked smile playing on his bloodstained lips. "You... did what you had to do," he murmured, his voice weak as his hand reached for hers, his cool fingers brushing hers for an instant before they fell away.

Suddenly, a low groan came from the grass nearby. Landon stirred, his eyes slowly opening as he coughed, the hole in his chest already beginning to close thanks to his phoenix nature. He raised his head in confusion and took in the scene before him: Ethan on the ground, his chest pierced by the sword, blood streaming but the wound slowly healing; Hope beside him, holding his hand with a tenderness that cut through the air. "Hope," he called, his voice hoarse as he sat up, rubbing his face.

Hope turned back, her eyes widening when she saw Landon awake. Genuine relief crossed her face, and she let out a shaky breath. "Landon, you're okay," she said, her voice still thick with emotion as she tried to compose herself.

Josie, who had already rushed to untie Lizzie from the chains, helped her sister to her feet. Lizzie rubbed her wrists, her eyes fixed on Ethan, still lying there breathing raggedly. "Is he going to be okay?" she asked, her tone a mix of concern and curiosity.

Hope nodded, her eyes returning to Ethan as she gently ran her hand through his hair, brushing the dark strands from his sweaty forehead. "Yes. He's a werewolf, he heals quickly," she replied, her voice steady, but in her thoughts, a weight pressed down on her: I never want to do something like that again. The image of the sword piercing his chest was still burning in her mind, a lump tightening in her throat.

Landon watched it all, his chest rising and falling as he tried to make sense of the scene. Something in his heart twisted, a feeling he couldn't name—jealousy, confusion, longing? He frowned, his eyes fixed on Hope, and asked, almost without thinking, "Hope, why is it that every time I die, I see you in my dreams?"

Josie, who was helping Lizzie steady herself, froze at this, her eyes widening. "What did he say?" she muttered, turning to her sister.

Lizzie raised her eyebrows, equally surprised. "Yeah, what is it, Landon?" she asked, her tone thick with curiosity as she looked from Hope to him.

Hope stiffened, her heart racing as she tried to hide the turmoil inside her. "I… I don't know," she said, her voice breaking for a moment before she forced a weak smile. "You must be confused after Landon died."

But her eyes betrayed what she was trying to hide, returning to Ethan she stood there looking at his face while her hand slid through his hair, her fingers tracing the contours with a caress that she couldn't contain.

It was too fast, what this boy had done to her heart in just two days. But it didn't feel wrong—it felt right, as if every touch, every look from him ignited something that had always been there, waiting. The love she felt for Landon, the one she had once called epic, now seemed like a pale shadow compared to this—a fire she couldn't explain, but one she didn't want to run from.

Josie and Lizzie watched in silence, their eyes fixed on Hope's face as she stroked Ethan, her fingers gentle in his hair, her gaze lost in something beyond the moment. They exchanged a quick glance, then looked back at Hope. It was the same face they made when they felt this—the sparkle in her eyes, the slight blush on her cheeks, the raw vulnerability. "She's in love with him," Josie whispered, almost to herself, her voice low enough that Hope wouldn't hear.

Lizzie nodded slowly, a crooked smile appearing. "Yeah, it's obvious," she whispered back, her eyes flicking from Hope to Ethan, the wound nearly closed now.

Suddenly, Ethan gasped, his eyes flying open in shock as his body jerked up off the ground. "Argh! What happened?" he asked, his voice hoarse and confused, his heterochromia eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to understand where he was, his hand instinctively going to his chest, where the wound was now just a pink scar.

Hope didn't think—her arms wrapped around him in a tight hug, her face buried against his shoulder as a sob escaped her throat. "You're okay," she murmured, her voice shaking with relief, her fingers clutching his jacket as if she feared he'd disappear again.

Ethan, still dazed, blinked a few times, the warmth of her body against his bringing him back to reality. He took a deep breath, the scent of Hope—something between forest and something sweet he couldn't quite name—filling his senses. Slowly, confusion gave way to quiet understanding, and he ran his hand down her back, his fingers tracing gentle circles as his husky voice came out low, almost a whisper: "It's okay, Hope. I'm here."

She pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, the blue and green shining back at her, and for a moment, the world around her—Landon, Josie, Lizzie, the chaos of the night—vanished. It was just him, this boy who had turned her heart upside down in two days, and her, unable to deny what she felt.

A few feet away, hidden in the shadows of the trees that bordered the clearing, a man watched the scene in silence. He was dressed in an impeccable suit, his black hair slicked back with an almost supernatural shine, and in his hands he held a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling as he took a slow sip. A low, husky laugh escaped his lips, the sound filled with amusement and something else—maybe disbelief, maybe resignation. "Really, kid," he said, his voice soft but sharp, his eyes fixed on Ethan and Hope, still embraced on the ground. "I don't know what to make of you. No matter what happens, it seems that this universe conspires for these two to be together." He raised his glass in a silent toast, his lips curving into a crooked smile as he took another sip, his gaze lost in thoughts that no one there could imagine. Then, with an elegant movement, he turned and disappeared into the darkness, leaving only the echo of his laughter hanging in the air.