Oceans by idkxwriting (ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN)

CHAPTER 2

"You forget, I am still your only hope at finding Rebekah," Tristan de Martel choked out, using the only leverage he had to plead for his life.

Elijah used his grip on the vampire's neck to slide him further up the wall. "And you forget that my family will always be one step ahead of you." His phone began to ring and he let go, Tristan crumbling to a heap at his feet.

Elijah answered wordlessly, waiting for an update.

"We have Rebekah's body," Hayley panted from the other end. "She's safe, it's over Elijah."

Elijah tightened his jaw and nodded, hanging up without a word.

"It seems you have outlived your usefulness," he glanced at the mess of a man in front of him with distaste. He reached down and picked him up, forcing him up onto his feet.

"I can fix her!" Tristan shouted in desperation.

Elijah rolled his eyes. "This pathetic plead for your life is not a good look on you. Freya will take care of Rebekah." He had no doubt his older sister would come through, he didn't need the monster in front of him.

"Not Rebekah," Tristan spoke quickly, unsure of how much time he had. "The girl! Y/N!"

Elijah's grip tightened and his eyes turned dark. He bared his fangs as a warning. "If you touched one hair on her head," he growled.

Tristan laughed. "Poor Elijah, I didn't need to do a thing. I merely had to sit back and watch you destroy your own happiness."

The Original was done listening, and he didn't hesitate when he forced his hand into Tristan's chest, his fingers gripping his heart. Elijah wasn't sure what game Tristan was playing at, but he didn't want any part of it. He leaned his face in so Tristan could feel his breath at his ear. "You forget, dear Tristan, you live and die by my will," he growled.

Elijah gripped tightly and pulled his hand away, the vampire dropping lifeless to the floor.

Elijah stood above Tristan's corpse, a still heart in his hands. He glanced at the organ for a moment, and then at the empty cavity where it once resided.

Tristan had been a nuisance and he would not be missed, but his death did not bring Elijah peace. He opened his palm, letting the grotesque organ roll from his fingertips and hit the ground with a thud at his feet. Elijah removed the handkerchief from his pocket with his clean hand, wiping away any trace of violence from his skin.

He didn't bother cleaning up the mess, leaving it behind to be someone else's problem.

The Strix were gone. Tristan was dead. His sister was safe.

Y/N was safe.

She will never be safe as long as she is with you, a little voice whispered in his head, but he pushed it aside. A better man would let her go, but Elijah was not a better man, despite centuries of trying.

When push came to shove, at his core he was a monster.

He had tried letting her go, but these last few months had proven more difficult than he could have imagined. Elijah may not be a better man, but anything he was or was not was better with her. He needed her, craved her.

He loved her.

His feet carried him to her doorstep without thought, as if he were on autopilot. When he approached the door it swung up, Davina stepping out and closing it behind her.

"Elijah, what are you doing here?" She stopped in her tracks.

Elijah said nothing for a long moment, as he planted his feet and stood tall, knowing Y/N's friend, a witch of New Orleans, did not approve of their relationship. It didn't matter, her approval wasn't what he had come here for. "I need to speak to Y/N," he said. "I need to see her." He wasn't sure what Tristan was talking about, and while he knew he had not gone near Y/N (he had kept tabs after all), his last words made Elijah uneasy.