~40~

Elena shrinked under the glare of Lucas, trying to focus on my bloodied shoulder. I winced at the feeling of the rubbing alcohol on the open wound.  She cleaned and patched the wound nicely, but the rubbing alcohol still stung. I looked at my shoulder and sighed, turning to look at Elena

"Thanks" I smiled, wanting to ease the tension. She smiled back and turned to Lucas who was still glaring at her.

"She's not going to help you if you keep glaring at her"

"Stop glaring at her" the beta huffed a breath like a petulant child and mumbled something under his breath before turning to look at her and rolled his eyes. Jeez, and they say I'm childish. Elena took his reactions as a temporary truce and scooted over to him, placing the first aid kit beside her and reached out for his shirt. Raising it slightly I caught sight of the cuts and bruises littering his skin. He looked worse underneath his shirt. I felt bad seeing him hurt because of me. Lucas caught me staring and winked, holding back a wince as Elena dabbed his cuts with rubbing alcohol

"I've had worse" he chuckled and tilted his head to Elena. "I still don't like you" he grumbled to her as she tended to his wounds. When she was done she sat back and sighed, wiping sweat from her brow. She looked between Lucas and I, turning to clean up the mess left behind when she patched us.

"I didn't have a choice" she whispered so faintly I wouldn't have heard if she wasn't close to me. Her hands slightly trembled as she disposed of the bloodied cotton. "Who is he to you?" she stopped cleaning and turned to me with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"He's my savior" was all she said and quickly left. Lucas and I shared a look at her statement

Saviour?

We have different ideas of a saviour

I'm not one to judge, maybe he really did save her and I'm being different about it, but even a complete idiot would understand that he's not the savior she thinks he is. Maybe if he wasn't the jealous son of a bitch pulling me into his brother's spat, I would reconsider.

Actually, no. I wouldn't, he can fuck off

He's probably hypnotized her into thinking that, I wouldn't put it past him.

But her face, her expression at that moment struck something within me; her voice, the tremble of her fingers as she tended to our injuries. I shouldn't feel sorry for her, she might be a victim and could have no ties to Lucas and I sending up in this basement. But damn my heart.

My thinking was cut short when a man barged in and I jolted in surprise. He held a camera with a sly grin on his face and I immediately didn't like what was going to happen. He looked between Lucas and I, his eyes landing on me.

"So you're the man of the hour?" He eyed me like a man starved "I'm going to take my time with you" he smiled and I wanted nothing more than to bash his head in. The chilling stare I shot his way made him falter in his steps

"Get the fuck away from him" Lucas spat angrily at the man. He raised the camera, his finger hovering over the record button. Camera raised, he pressed record. The red light blinked ominously in the dimness. A cold dread washed over me. Whatever hell we were trapped in was about to get a whole lot worse.

~•~•~

Third Person

Bruce's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white. The rage coursing through him was a tempest, threatening to consume him whole. The image of Beryl, helpless and bound, was a dagger twisting in his heart. His eyes, once a stormy grey, were now a chilling black, reflecting the darkness that had enveloped him.

"Find him," Bruce seethed, his voice low and dangerous. The command was a silent promise of retribution. Kyle nodded, his face etched with grim determination. He knew the weight of the task, the life of Beryl and Lucas hanging in the balance. The in built tracker in Beryl's earrings made the search easier. He turned to leave, his steps echoing in the shattered remains of the mansion.

Alone with the video, Bruce replayed the scene over and over, his mind working furiously. He knew this wasn't just a random act of violence. It was a message, a declaration of war. This was personal. It was a direct attack on him.