Elena's pain-filled screams pierce the darkness as the cold steel of the blade is dragged across her arm, slicing open her flesh almost effortlessly and allowing blood to bead up along its path. Wes backs up menacingly. She watches him begin to prowl back and forth in front of her, obscured only by the thick mass of curls hanging in her face. He has the knife secured in one hand while the other toys with the point of the bloody blade.
Her throat feels tight as if someone is choking her. Her heart is racing and all she wants to do is curl up into a ball and wait for someone to save her. But for her plan to work she needs to regain control so she closes her eyes for a few seconds then looks up at him and smirks - just a small pout of her lips; a narrowing of her eyes and a tilt of her head.
He raises his arm like he's going to backhand her for her insolence but stops when she speaks again.
"I thought we were going to run away together and here all you're doing is giving me some scars. If I had known you were going to do this, I wouldn't have gone to so much trouble to primp," she snaps her head, trying to get her hair out of her face.
Fear surges in her veins with every frenetic pound of her heart. By strength of will only, she keeps her eyes and voice steady. "Is this any way to treat the woman you claim to love?" Elena watches him the same way a tiger would as it closes in on its unsuspecting prey.
A shadow passes over his eyes as he approaches her again. Rather than say anything, he dips his fingertip in her blood, moaning when he sticks it in his mouth.
"Let me go, I can make you feel so good..." she toys with him, her glance as conspiratorial as a wink.
"You always were so feisty." He takes her chin in his fingers, tilting it upwards. "Is that what he loves about you?"
Nothing on her face betrays her fear as she jerks away from his grasp. She licks the blood from the corner of her mouth while keeping her stare perfectly intact, "It's certainly what I liked the best about you."
"Oh sweetheart," he cups his junk while leering at her. "Only for tonight," he loosens the ropes and pulls her to her feet. Before she can make any kind of a move, his mouth swallows hers.
Although her heart is pounding in her throat and as repulsive as the act is, she plays along but she can only describe it as sloppy and wet. His tongue feels something like an eel worming its way into her mouth. Her stomach lurches and a wave of nausea rushes through her at the feel of his mouth on hers.
Then suddenly he pulls away and runs his hand over his neck just below his ear. "Katherine... wh," he can't articulate the words against the coming darkness. His legs crumple and he falls forward. Elena takes her own bindings and secures him as best as she can .
"Don't- don't... don't do this."
How in the hell did she get herself into this mess?
24 hours ago...
In the dark with only the illumination from the street lights, a man lurks in the shadows, staring through the window like a cobra about to strike its prey. His eyes narrow to slits as he watches the man and woman.
An evil glint is the only light in his beady eyes, the dark hue matching the smudges beneath them. Imitating a tarantula's scuttle, he stealthily makes his way closer to the window for a better look. He can't make out the conversation but after watching her mannerisms, the way she carries herself, the waves in her chestnut hair and those brown eyes that radiate a fierce, uncompromising intelligence, he's certain that the woman in the window is indeed Katherine.
How is it even remotely possible?
Markos fucked up.
But he's not going to question it. This...
Is a Gift!
Should he approach her tonight - sneak up from behind, cover her mouth and shove her in his car? For a brief moment his mind drifts to her children but he doesn't dwell on it, Katherine's his. His features soften slightly as the corners of his mouth lift slowly into a bright smile. He could kill her husband right now - so easily. Pulling the Glock automatic out of his pocket, his heart pounds in excitement as he runs his hand over the cold steel. With steady footsteps he draws closer, raises the gun, and puts his finger on the trigger, the crosshairs landing on Niklaus Mikaelson's head. But if he were to do that, there's no way she would be able to meet up with him tomorrow. As covertly as possible, he disappears like a shadow into the encroaching gloom of twilight.
From there, he finds a pub near his motel room, ambles up to bar and takes a seat. He crooks his finger at the bartender, orders a bottle of whiskey and glass. After filling it, he throws it back, enjoying the burn as it goes down. Looking around, he realizes what a dive he's stumbled into. Apparently this hole is a hangout for underage hookers of both sexes. From his perch, he watches with his neck goosing from side to side. Then his mind drifts to her. After a time, a petite red-head in a tight black dress takes the seat next to him. When she not so subtly slides closer to him, he jumps up, grabs his bottle and bumps into her, knocking her off her seat on his way out of the bar.
"You bastard," comes from behind him as he steps out into the dark night and goes back to his room. He drinks half of his bottle then stumbles into the bathroom, only then noticing his rather disheveled look when he sees his reflection in the mirror. He needs to shave and get cleaned up before his date tomorrow - no tonight - he grins when he glances at the Rolex on his wrist. After corking his bottle, he strips off his clothes and gets into the shower where he lathers up his cock and pleasures himself with Katherine's image in his mind.
He's breathing heavily, not from heat or fatigue and not from lack of physical capability. From excitement. He's standing near the Ferris Wheel waiting. The wind gently brushes his hair and grazes his face, almost soothingly. This is what he needs.
Some risk.
Some danger.
He begins walking, taking one ragged breath after another. He approaches one of the eating places and slows his pace, peering round it just enough to see a short, obese man with long greasy hair. Rolling his eyes, he pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and lights up. Smoke particles dance in on the inbound breeze, layering his tongue with a woody fragrance.
Just by happenstance he glances up and sees her approaching the Galaxy wheel. She's a vision, her curls shimmer in the moonlight. Her lips are red as the rose and her tight jeans make him twitch beneath his jeans zipper.
His heart starts to pound in excitement as he watches her. With a menacing gleam in his eyes, he takes a long draw from his cigarette, drops it to the ground and then begins to move towards her surreptitiously so she doesn't see him coming.
"Katherine," he lays his hand on her shoulder.
"Wes," Elena's heart is thundering inside her chest as she smiles and scrutinizes him.
"I had my doubts you'd show up," he considers her, trying to decide for sure if she's Katherine. He grabs her firmly by the wrist and roughly pushes up her sleeve, his eyes landing on the tattoo of two tiny stars. "It really is you," he runs his finger over it.
"Why would I lie?" she arches an eyebrow at him, grateful now that she and Katherine got matching tattoos on a whim one day.
"Come on, let's get out of here," he grabs her by the arm and pulls her along the boardwalk till they reach his car. He shoves her inside then drives to the destination he's prepared...
How in the hell did she get herself into this mess?
"Damon, it's Enzo, Luka Martin just called in. He's not on duty tonight but he saw Elena Gilbert leaving with a guy. Says either it was Dr. Maxfield or his doppelganger."
"Where?"
"He followed them to the parking lot, they drove off before he could stop her."
"Son of a bitch! Did he get a license number?"
"He sure did, I already have an APB out."
"Good work, Enzo. Give it to me," Damon writes it down, "I'm going to drive down there, maybe I'll get lucky?"
What's happening to him? Why is he feeling so weak? Did she just...? A weak shake of his head is all he can muster before everything goes black. ..
Elena pulls her cellphone out of her bra and presses his icon with a shaky finger. "Answer - please - please - answer."
"Elena, where are you?"
"I'm in a warehouse at Pier 21, hurry please?" her voice is trembling.
"Is there anyway you can tell me the number?"
She bobs her head, looks back at Wes who's still laying in a heap on the concrete floor then runs outside. "Nine, it's number nine."
"I'm very close. Stay on the line with me."
In shock, she just shakes her head.
"Are you there, Elena?"
"Yeah," she mumbles, sighing heavily when headlights swarm over the darkened pier. The car screeches to a halt, Damon flies out of driver's seat but just before he reaches her, Wes stumbles out the warehouse with a rope dragging from his ankle, wraps an arm around her neck, squeezes hard then presses the muzzle of his gun against her temple.
Damon raises his pistol, aiming it right at the man's head. "Let her go," he yells.
"We're gonna play this my way or she dies," he sneers, his face hardens into that of a demon.
"She dies, you die," Damon keeps his gun trained on Wes.
"I want...," he starts when suddenly a Range Rover appears driving erratically and nearly crashing into the building. Wes tightens his grip and shoots the man that falls out of the back door and just as quickly sticks the gun's muzzle flush against Elena's ear.
"Let her go," Damon yells again, moving closer.
Wes shoves Elena inside, follows her, then aims the gun at the driver, demanding he get them out of there now. The man slams his foot on the gas pedal, leaving Damon behind in a cloud of dust.
Damon's about to jump in his car and give chase when he sees a TV helicopter about a block down the street. He slides behind the wheel, slamming the brakes and skidding to a halt in front of it.
"Hey, get that thing away before I call the cops," reporter Andie Starr glares at him.
Damon flashes his badge, "I'm commandeering this chopper," he climbs in. "Call 911, a man was shot up by warehouse 9," he puts the headphones on and tells the pilot to look for a black Range Rover. The guy nods and soon they're airborne. Luck must be with him because it doesn't take long for them to find the vehicle on the Galveston Causeway.
Wes is trying to see what's going on ahead. The driver is speaking heatedly in Spanish, and getting no answers.
Elena feels as though her blood is on fire. Oblivious to the pain in her arm, she uses the moment of distraction to lunge forward to grab at the gun. Wes fires erratically as they struggle for control of the weapon. The sound is deafening. A second shot rings out, catching the driver behind the ear, and he slumps forward. His foot mashes down on the accelerator pedal and the car surges faster.
Damon watches the vehicle track chaotically back and forth across the lanes from one guardrail to the other, throwing off sparks where metal hits metal.
Inside, Elena knocks Wes's hands against the edge of the open sun roof and the pistol goes flying out. Adrenaline floods her system like it's on an intravenous drip - right into one of her coronary arteries at full pelt. Her breaths are harsh and ragged, she almost thinks her heart will explode.
"You... bastard," she rages, grabbing at his head and pounding it against anything hard she can find. A hard swerve makes her stop, giving her a moment to look out the front window. Panic flares in her eyes as fresh terror rears up and claws at her throat.
A half a mile ahead, the causeway is still under repair after Hurricane Harvey's wrath.
The chopper is descending rapidly to catch up. Damon climbs out onto the skids. He hooks an arm and leg over it and hangs down as low as he can.
With fear flooding her body, Elena shakily stands on the seat, sticks her head through the sunroof and flails her arms frantically towards Damon.
"Get lower, god-damnit! Right now!" Damon strains downward with one hand while Elena reaches up toward him. The car screeches along the guard-rail, slamming against it, throwing her from side to side in the sunroof. Their fingers touch, then separate. She looks forward - the limo is almost on the precipice.
Wes is desperately pulling on the driver. The man's body slumps over on him, pinning him down. He looks over the dash as the shattered edge of the causeway rushes toward them.
The chopper drops again, Damon finally gets a tenuous grip on Elena's wrist, jerking her through the sunroof, screaming just as the car arcs gracefully into the ocean below.
Damon finally manages to pull Elena up and onto the skid with him. She is gasping, holding on for dear life as she looks down at the ocean, the wreckage on the bridge, the whole unbelievable panorama.
And then she looks up at Damon in shock...
She's alive!
That scene was totally modeled after the one in 'True Lies'. I tried to research if the Galveston Causeway was damaged by Hurricane Harvey. I believe it was but when I googled, it really only showed damage to Galveston as a whole. I apologize if my assumption is incorrect. We always try to do meticulous research for accuracy when we work on a story.
Chapter title: 'Dangerous Tonight' by Alice Cooper.
Thank you all very much. We're not done yet, there are still a few chapters of story left to tell and perhaps a surprise... ;)
Have a terrific day, be safe and we'll see you next time.