Empty Crown ⚜ Klaus Mikaelson

16. 𝙈𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙝 𝙄𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜

Micah Irving felt the world cease spinning.

He felt the breath as it expelled from his lungs and his heart stop.

His hazel eyes were wide, his grip on his phone had slackened and it clattered to the floor of the hotel room he was in. He blinked, feeling his body fall backward he landed on the ground. His face scrunched up, his eyes stung and his heart began racing.

Imelda Fell was dead.

His daughter, his baby girl was dead.

A scream so primal erupted from his lips. He bolted up, blind rage clouding him as he began breaking, punching and smashing anything in his path. Hot tears cascaded from his eyes, staining his cheeks and dripping down onto the floor as he breathed heavily and unevenly.

The scream gave way to a sob and he was on the ground once more, his face covered by his hands. His fingers trembled, he wanted to turn, to become the very thing that let him feel free but he was disgusted.

The very thing he loved being was the very reason he was forced to hear that his only child, his little girl, was dead through a text. He didn't know what was worse, hearing it from a random man that looked him up or hearing through the typed word.

Nothing in his life could compare to the pain and grief he felt. Not even feeling every bone in his body break every month could compare. He felt like his heart was ripped out of his chest but for some twisted reason it kept on beating.

As if fate wanted him to suffer for the mistakes and lives he took when he wasn't in control. God wanted to damn him for leaving his daughter behind, for trusting a human to look after a special soul. Amanda Fell had swore she'd look after their daughter and she failed.

Micah stood, moving stiffly as he picked up his phone and left the destroyed hotel room. He didn't care about anything in that moment but getting a drink and planning what to do next. Mystic Falls was supposed to be a safe place for Imelda but all it turned out to be was her grave.

Arriving at the Mystic Grill, Micah found only one person there but that was the least of his concerns. As he inhaled he immediately smelled vampire. His lips pressed tightly together, biting back the primal hatred. He didn't want to fight, he just wanted to get drunk and grieve.

"They let dogs here now?" Damon Salvatore huffed out. His shoulders were hunched forward and his fingers tightly gripped an entire bottle of bourbon. Looking to his left he watched a man slightly taller than himself sit next to him.

"Not tonight." Micah growled, his hazel eyes peering at the vampire. He scowled, looking away quickly as the vampire seemed caught off guard by him.

"Where's the bartender?" He grumbled as no one came out to get him a drink. He knew it was late but he also knew the damn place was always open.

Damon turned and peered at him. "Where's my manners? I'm Damon Salvatore, if you're here for revenge on your little pack that got offed last year, get in line."

Micah shot him an irritated look. "I don't give a damn about you, some pack or anything. I just want a damn drink." He growled, slamming his closed fists onto the bar top. The wood splintered and Damon smirked, holding up his hands.

"Easy wolfie. Easy." Damon wasn't sure what the hell he was doing but at that point in time, after his brother betrayed him and vanished and after he lost the girl that was like a sister, he didn't care.

"The place is closing, I'm last call."

"Damn." Micah reigned in his anger. His fingers flexed and he peered at them, they still trembled.