Update for you guys!
Just wanted to point out that I've noticed the disagreements in the reviews, and while I love your feedback, please remember to be courteous and kind to each other! Everyone is entitled to their own opinions, and can choose to read or not read as they see fit. I am glad that so many of you do seem to like the story, and I will be continuing it.
So let's be respectful :)
Moving on, this is one of my favorite chapters so far! So I hope you guys enjoy!
And again, TRIGGER warning for all details of this story. It will get darker.
It had been almost an hour since she had heard from Katherine.
Elena tried to tell herself that this was a good thing.
If Katherine was successful tonight, that meant she was at the club keeping Damon Salvatore plenty distracted, which had given Elena the time she needed to find the outdoor power box, shut down the electricity, and get into his home.
The place had appeared as impregnable as Fort Knox, but she had done a fair amount of scouting to prepare.
There were exactly three entrances that she could've used that wouldn't be detectable, though none of them were easy to get to, considering they were chimney chutes that opened on the roof.
And before she could even attempt to scale the building to reach them, she'd had to shut down the power, and before she could do that, she had to pass the lawn security, including invisible cameras that could be mounted anywhere.
Luckily, she had come prepared.
From the gear bag she had brought along, she'd retrieved a pair of night vision binoculars.
They were damn near military grade and had a sensor for heat signals, which she'd used to scan the yard, to pick up readings on the outdoor camera hardware.
It took a few more minutes than she would have liked, but she'd found three mounted cameras, and mapped out a route that had gotten her to the house without the risk of being compromised. She would have to disengage the one on the far side wall, but it shouldn't be too difficult.
She'd moved like part of the night, her black boots silent against the soft earth, and her dark clothes blended perfectly with the shadows.
There wasn't even the moon in the sky to shine notice on her.
The box was easy to find, and she managed to shut down the power, then did the same to the threatening camera.
However, she wasn't naive enough to believe a man like Damon wouldn't be running his security on either battery alternatives or some back up system.
So she had pulled a flashlight from her bag and hooked it to her tool belt.
Propelling the walls had been easy after that, with the vine growth along the far side, not to mention the rope and tools she had brought.
Then it was a short, but careful descent down the chimney shaft.
She'd gotten covered in soot, so once she reached the bottom, she turned on her flashlight, kicked out of her shoes, and stripped her jacket.
The room was some sort of den or parlor, and save for her flashlight, was pitch black.
Good. That meant any indoor cameras would be running on night vision, and her light would render them useless.
Even if Salvatore checked his footage, there would be nothing to see but a lot of black.
She kept the light aimed a little high and her face out of the glow, as she maneuvered carefully through the room.
The necklace would have to be planted somewhere Salvatore would never find it, but also close enough to her entrance spot that she could retrieve it again without too much difficulty.
Part of her wished she could have just hidden it somewhere on the grounds outside, but she didn't want to risk weather damage, or Julian's suspicion.
There were a few paintings on the wall, perhaps she could slip the necklace case behind one.
Or maybe she could tuck it into the large bookshelf that took up half the wall on the other side of the room.
Her eyes scanned quickly for any other possibilities, but none seemed secure enough.
If the necklace was discovered before she could come back for it, she wouldn't get her payout.
With that in mind, she decided on the bookshelf.
Dust should tell her which volumes were the least used, and she would slide the case behind-
The lights flickered and Elena froze in place, her breath catching.
Another flicker.
This time they remained on.
Shit!
She dashed for the fireplace, thanking the heavens that she had left the rope tied to the top of the chimney, had crawled inside the space, and was about three feet up the rope before remembering her shoes and jacket.
Damn it all to hell.
She deliberate for half a second as the sound of a door echoed in the distance, and she knew time was running out fast.
Her things were proof of her involvement, which was too incriminating for her to risk, even though "Katalena" had made an appearance at the club.
And that would only matter if Damon had actually been at the club tonight.
He should have been.
But maybe…
Elena cursed silently, realizing she did not have enough time to think things through properly.
She had a choice to keep climbing without her things and risk exposure, or take thirty seconds to grab them and shove them into the bag on her back so her hands would be free to climb.
Fear spiked her movements as she chose the latter.
Sliding back down so quickly she felt her hands sting with rope burn, she bent to retrieve the boots and jacket.
They were just within reach and the moment her fingers closed around them, she slung the bag off her back and worked it open.
In her rush, the zipper jammed on the close up.
Oh for the love of- she yanked and the thing nearly snapped.
Footsteps, too close now.
She fumbled with fast fingers, and got the bag mostly closed, which would just have to be good enough, and tossed a strap over her head.
With the bag dangling from her body, she grabbed the rope and began to climb.
But not fast enough.
Damon almost missed her.
He and Stefan had both arrived around the same time, to a pitch dark house.
With haste, he had instructed his cousin to find the breaker box and search the grounds, while he checked inside.
The lights came on just as he'd unlocked the front door.
Things seemed silent and still, for the most part.
It was by mere chance he had walked down the long hall and entered the main lounge in time to see a flicker of movement come from the fireplace.
He ran over and reached up, grabbing the first thing his fingers touched.
A surprised scream encouraged him, as did the hard jerk of what must have been an ankle.
Damon reached his other hand into the space, fitting as much of himself forward as he could, and he yanked hard.
The intruder, his intruder, fell with a yelp, practically landing on him, and they were both propelled backwards onto the floor.
"Ooof," he groaned, but had no time to recover.
She was fast, unbelievably so, and was on her feet in a blink.
He lunged his entire body at her in a tackle that, once again, took them down to the hardwood and stole their breath.
The girl was a fighter; fist, elbows, knees, and god knew what else, all came at him as he tried to find something solid to grip.
"Stop!" he instructed, but she was far from obeying any order he might give.
With a hard struggle, Damon managed to pin her arms above her head and used the weight of his body to hold the rest of her in place.
"Stop," he tried again, squeezing his grip and "Katalena" looked up at him.
Those deep brown eyes were the same as he remembered, only now, they were widened with adrenaline, but no trace of fear.
Now isn't that a turn on...
Her lips parted in frustration and her heart was pounding beneath him.
Before he could assess any further, her leg somehow twisted up around his waist and her wrist turned inward toward his thumb, breaking his hold.
Her head lifted then, colliding with his nose and when he flinched, she heaved her body forward, halfway freeing herself and gaining leverage.
In frantic motions, her hand gripped at his back, trying to shove him off...and instead, found his gun.
"Fuck," Damon growled as her hand closed around the thing and he felt it pull free from the halter strapped around his waist.
He was carrying a second piece, but had no time to retrieve it.
"Katalena" brought the glock up, and Damon grabbed at her before she had the momentum to position her arm.
He caught her elbow and slammed it into the ground, shaking the gun loose.
They both scrambled for it, causing it to slide across the wooden floor.
Before Damon could untangle himself, a sharp pain seared in his neck as "Katalena" bit the thin skin hard enough to almost rip open his jugular.
It was enough for his hands to release her body, to instinctively push her away, and that had been exactly what she wanted.
Upon release, she dove for the gun, and Damon, finally able, pulled the second one he had strapped to his ankle.
When "Katalena" turned, gun cocked and aimed, he had his Beretta leveled with her forehead.
They both stood there for a moment, eyes searching, chests pumping.
"Let me pass," his intruder hissed, and despite hurting all over his body, Damon smirked, "Not a chance, sweetheart. We need to talk."
Her gaze flickered between his gun and the exit, while his was all over her face.
That brown hair was a mess, her eyes were fierce, and one of her cheekbones had a slight shadow across it, already bruising.
"I didn't take anything," she tried again, her voice hard as stone, "Let me leave and neither of us has to get hurt."
"You know that is not how this works," he told her, and his eyes took in her attire.
For some reason, she was barefoot, but her clothes were black and stretched over a well toned body.
She was certainly dressed for a burglary.
The bag of supplies she had dropped when they fell was another clue.
"You came in from the chimney," he deducted, and his brow arched, "That is.. a first I have seen."
"Ho, ho, ho," she muttered with sarcasm, and Damon smiled.
Oh, this was so his intruder.
"You are full of surprises, no?" he couldn't help but sound impressed.
It was one thing to have a pretty face, another altogether to have the brains to back it.
"Put down the gun, let's talk."
"Katalena" shook her head, not that he really expected any different.
"If I put down the gun, you shoot me," she reasoned, "I happen to like living."
Damon chuckled, "Then, please, tell me how you plan to get out of this situation. You put down the gun, you risk death. You do not put down the gun, maybe I shoot you anyway, and you risk death. If you shoot me, my finger will squeeze in response and you still end up dead."
"Yes, but with option three, you end up dead too," she pointed out, stiffening the hand that held the glock.
"And you think that matters to me?" Damon asked casually, as if they were discussing the weather, "Life, death...we all end up cold and buried in the end. Whether you kill me now or someone else does it later, it does not change this situation."
Her nose scrunched in confusion at his noncommittal response and Damon smirked, "Go ahead, see if I am bluffing. Shoot me. But know that you will have to be prepared to risk everything if you are wrong. I have made my peace with death. The question is, cara mia...have you?"
Elena was frozen by Damon Salvatore's unreadable stare.
Half of her wanted to pull the trigger, to shoot him and jump out of the way of any answering bullets.
But the other half feared that he might be right.
That she wouldn't be quick enough.
There was an emptiness in those blue eyes of his that backed the truth of his words.
Whatever his reasons, this man was prepared to die.
And with her family counting on her, she couldn't.
"Damn it," Elena muttered, but lowered her gun in defeat.
Whatever happened now, she was at Salvatore's mercy, which pretty much put this night at the top of her "I fucked up" list.
"Smart choice," he said, and motioned for her to drop the gun.
She complied, setting it on the floor and using her foot to push it away, "There. It's out of reach. Now are you going to kill me, or did you still want to talk?"
"I have no plans to kill you at this moment," he assured her, and the gun he was holding did lower, though that finger of his was still near the trigger, "Whether or not I change my mind will be entirely up to you...now, be a good girl and take a seat, will you?"
Later, Elena would tell herself that it was the weapon he held that forced her into compliance, because there was no way she held any faith that this man wouldn't harm her.
With no grace whatsoever, she dropped onto the stiff antique sitting room couch and fought the urge to cross her arms.
Like a child who had been sent to time out.
Salvatore worked quickly, reaching down to grab the gun she had discarded and slipped it back into its holster.
Then he scooped up her gear bag and dropped it at her feet, "Open it."
She arched a brow at the demand and he smirked, "You say you have taken nothing...then you should have nothing to hide."
Uncomfortable with having lost control of the situation, Elena did as she was told, unzipping her bag and letting him peer inside.
The tip of Salvatore's black boot nudged through the contents, then he knelt down for a more hands on assessment.
"Everything you would need for surveillance," he murmured, almost to himself, "A rather expensive jewelry box," he pulled the necklace case and sat it aside, "Not mine. Were you raiding other houses tonight?"
Elena didn't bother responding.
"No? Alright, what else then? More gear, and…" Salvatore considered her, "Shoes. Your shoes are in the bag and not on your feet."
She shrugged and he chuckled.
"This is the second time you have been barefoot in my presence, you realize?" His eyes roamed from her feet, up to her face, and back again, "Perhaps our third encounter will see you lose more than just your shoes."
She shivered at the implication, but while her pride was bruised, her dignity was very much intact, "As fascinating as my possessions are, they aren't what you wanted to talk about, are they?"
Salvatore smirked and took a seat on the coffee table across from her, putting them at eye level, "Small talk is only acceptable when you are the one fishing for information, is that it?"
The reminder of her failed interrogation at the club sparked a question of her own, "How did you know? When we met at the club...you knew who I was."
"I did," he admitted, "And if you want answers, then you owe me some as well. Fair trade and all."
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours?" she asked, repeating the same words he had used during their first conversation.
From the way the corner of his lip twitched, he remembered, "Precisely."
"Fine," she consented with a short huff, and leaned forward in her seat, "What do you wish to know, Mr. Salvatore?"
"Damon," he insisted, "You broke into my home. The least we can do is be on a first name basis."
"Damon," she humored him, "What's your question?"
He did not ask right away, instead his eyes roamed over her face, sizing her up, as if wondering how honest her answers might be.
When he did finally speak, the words were the last thing she had expected to leave his lips.
"How long have you and your twin been running the con you pulled tonight?"
Damon took a perverse joy in the way his intruder completely froze at the question.
Those eyes flared in panic as she realized that she was well and truly busted.
Her mouth moved slowly, working over each syllable before letting them leave her tongue, "What...what have you done with her?"
Now there was fear...interesting.
"Ah ah," he shook his finger in her direction, "You answer me, then you get to ask your question, remember?"
Her eyes flared for a different reason now.
She was getting angry.
"Years," she spat out, "We've done it for years. Now tell me what you did to Katherine."
Her body had coiled, as if she were ready to spring on him, gun be damned, and Damon realized he probably should not be as excited about that prospect as he felt.
"Katherine," the name rolled, "Not Katalena, then? I suppose I should have guessed you would have an alias."
Elena's jaw flexed and she said nothing as she awaited his answer, playing by his rules.
"She is perfectly safe," he admitted, "When I realized she was not you...and that you were here, in my home, I had no further need to question her. My men took her phone and are waiting with her in my office until I instruct them to let her leave."
The intruder's eyes narrowed, "Why should I believe you?"
"It is my turn," he reminded her, and the annoyance in her expression deepened, "If your twin's true name is Katherine, what is yours?"
"Elena," she said without preamble, "Now how I can know, for certain, that you are telling me the truth about my sister?"
Elena...wasn't that lovely...he played it over in his mind, again and again, before speaking it out loud.
"Elena...if I say your sister is safe, then she is safe. I have no reason to waste time lying to you. She is in my office and will not be harmed unless I call and give the commandment. When you and I are finished, I will let her go."
"I want proof," Elena insisted, and Damon understood the suspicion.
Setting his gun aside, and eyeing her warningly, he retrieved his cell phone and sent two messages.
One to Alaric, who was with the twin...and one to Stefan, who was still outside, probably in his car, driving the perimeter of the property.
A moment later, he received a response from both.
"There," he offered the screen to his intruder.
Elena leaned forward to inspect the image of her sister, entirely annoyed, but perfectly unharmed, glaring at the camera.
She sighed in audible relief, "Thank you."
The gratitude was a surprise, but Damon did not linger on it, too eager to make his next inquiry.
"She was intended to distract me, whilst you broke into my home, correct?"
Those brown eyes flashed to his, and Elena's arms wrapped around herself.
The motion made her look smaller, somehow, fragile, "She only did as I asked...coming here was my idea...how did you figure it out?"
"I'm observant, too," he teased her, and Elena laughed humorlessly at the memory, "There's a difference between being observant, and putting all of this together."
He smirked, but consented to what she truly yearned to know, "You are good at what you do, Elena, impressively so...but my security is more than an alarm and a lock box. I knew who you were at the club, the first time we met, because my outdoor cameras are triggered with motion sensors and zoom capability. Hidden as you were in that tree, we got an image."
"And tonight?" she pressed, her gaze holding his.
Damon stared back into all that beautiful, deep brown.
"Do you remember, when we danced together at the club, what I told you about your eyes?"
He could almost see the memory replaying through her head.
"You said they betrayed me," she recollected, "Because they were sad and empty. Which isn't exactly a compliment, by the way."
Damon chuckled, "No, but it was the truth. Our eyes reflect what is within us, so no two pairs are alike, and the same is true even for twins. I spoke to your sister tonight, I danced with her, and when she looked at me, I knew she was not you. You have the same face, but two very different hearts."
"We have more than the same face," Elena crooked her head at him, "We are completely identical. No one has ever suspected there were two of us."
"Most people see what they expect to see," he reasoned, "And nothing more. But you intrigued me, Elena, I'll admit. Perhaps it was the shoe you left lodged in my chest."
An unwilling smile broke her lips at the reminder and he resisted the urge to reach out and touch the corner of her mouth where it began.
"I have no interest in your sister," he continued, "I wanted to speak with you again. The beautiful girl with the empty eyes that was both brave, and foolish, enough to break into my private property a second time."
Elena's shoulders sank as she straightened, "Technically I didn't break in the first time. I only trespassed. And last time I checked, that doesn't warrent capital punishment."
"Ah, but you work for Julian Maxfield, no? Which means, by now, you have learned that there are whole lists of things that warrant mortal repercussions. Most of which are outside of your American law."
She frowned, "You knew that Julian had hired me? Is that why you threatened him?"
"Who said I threatened him?" Damon challenged.
Elena merely stared at him, and he nodded, "Alright...I may have shared a few words in defense of my privacy. But he needed to know who he was dealing with. My answer served its purpose just as sufficiently as any you could have given him from your observations."
"But how did you-"
"Caroline," he answered before she could finish asking, "Maxfield's daughter. You recognized her at the club and assumed that I would not. The pieces fell into place and I knew he had hired you. What remains unclear, however, is why you came here tonight. Do not tell me Julian was stupid enough not to heed my warning."
Elena hesitated, seeming torn with what she knew, and he was not about to accept some half-assed answer.
"Nothing between us but the truth now, Elena. Cards are on the table. So, out with it."
She sighed, "Julian doesn't know I'm here. He terminated my contract after you threatened him."
"You came for vengeance, then?" Damon was amused by the possibility, "For my putting you out of a job?"
"No," she said firmly, "But I was depending on the money he promised me for intel on you. I was hoping I could convince him to reconsider."
"A feat easier done in his home, don't you think?" Damon asked, and did not miss the way Elena's eyes glanced quickly down.
To something on the floor.
He followed her lead and saw the jewelry box, and reached down to pick it up.
The clasp was easy to open, which he did, and the necklace inside was stunning.
A pendant of rubies and delicate engravings.
He admired it for only a moment, then looked at Elena for an explanation.
"It belongs to Julian," she admitted, a light blush coloring her cheek.
That was all the answer he needed to fill in the rest of the blanks.
"So you spoke the truth. You have taken nothing from me at all, and instead, wish to augment my riches with stolen goods."
There was no use in denying it now, and Elena seemed to realize this.
"Julian loves that necklace," she explained, "and I'd hoped...I'd hoped he would pay me for a retrieval; if he thought you had taken it."
So she had meant to set him up; and if she had succeeded?
Damon could only imagine the business fallout he would be wrapped up in if Julian branded him an enemy.
Not to mention the implication that he would stoop low enough to steal a shiny piece of metal on a string was down right insulting.
He knew he should feel angry, and had every right, at the moment, to do away with the problem this female had presented in one swift move of his hand.
Finger. Trigger. Bullet.
He had killed for much less.
But when he imagined actually committing the act; bringing the gun to her head and ending her life, he felt...something.
A growing hole that bottomed out his stomach and made his chest clench.
It had been a while since he had really experienced anything stronger than his boredom or anger, but if he had to guess, he thought he might feel sad.
Yes...sad, at the thought of his intruder being dead.
Not that it made any rational sense to feel that way, but nonetheless, he knew he would not kill her.
Not now. Not tonight.
Not when there was still so much more he needed to know.
"Why not stash the necklace in your own home," Damon asked after a moment of silence, still sitting across from Elena with that intense blue stare, "Just pretend I was the thief? You risked unnecessary exposure, coming here."
It was a point she had considered herself more thoroughly, so her answer came easily, "It was necessary, though. You don't know Julian the way I do. It wouldn't be enough to accuse you of taking the necklace. It needed to be in your possession. Julian prefers thorough documentation in my reports, and might have even required photographic proof. My accusation had to be authentic."
"And to hell with the amount of heat it would have brought on me?" Damon accused, his brows drawing together, as if daring her to deny the fact that she was willing to throw him under the bus.
She was far from denying anything, "I'm sure it's nothing you wouldn't have deserved."
Those ice colored eyes widened, possibly in surprise at her bluntness...then Damon gave out a short laugh, and she hated how alluring the sound was.
"You do not like me much, do you?" he predicted, and Elena was bewildered that it was even a question.
No matter his attractive qualities, she knew what kind a man he was.
"You're my usual employer's competition," she reminded him, "And not even mentioning your means of income, you've still threatened my life twice, and that gun has yet to leave your side, so you tell me...what's not to like?"
With slow, dramatic movements, Damon reached over for the gun at his side.
Elena swallowed, wondering if she was really going to die because something about this man made her tongue move of its own accord, against her better judgement.
But this night was one for all sorts of confoundment, it would seem, because Damon merely bent down and holstered the weapon.
"There," he rose and showed her his empty hands, "Nothing left for you to fear."
"Now why don't I believe that?" she muttered, and the man sighed, "I could point out that your life was only ever at risk because you invaded my privacy, spied on me, scoped out my home as well as my place of business, and got busted tonight for breaking and entering."
She supposed that was a fair point, as much as she hated to admit it.
"So," Damon continued, "you are not exactly living a life full of moral caliber either, cara mia."
Ha.
Moral caliber?
The fact that he thought her work was somehow of equal depravity to his lifestyle was plain laughable.
As if the life she was forced to manage was equivalent to selling bodies or supplying drugs an avenue to city streets...all for the personal gain of material assets.
It was down right ludicrous to think they were anything alike.
"I may not be the most upstanding citizen," she admitted with bitter accusation in her voice, "But unlike you and your ongoing list of iniquities, I have a good reason for doing the things I do."
His answering smile was cold as he stood, "No doubt you do...and I can not wait to hear what they are. But first..."
Damon extended a hand down to her, "Let us move to my office for a drink."
"A drink?" she repeated, waiting for the punchline, "You think I want to have a drink? With you?"
That smile faded slightly, and a dark gleam appeared in his eyes, adding fire to the blue in a way that sped her heartbeat, "What I think, is that I always get what I want, cara mia. Your sister is locked in a room at my club, where she will remain until we are finished here, so it is not as if you will leave before I am satisfied. And we could both use a drink."
When he offered his hand this time, Elena did not refuse it.
And when his fingers wrapped around her own, she realized that, while lost in their conversation, she had stopped thinking about Katherine and the situation that awaited them.
Damon Salvatore had a presence that seemed to consume the entirety of her attention, and the revelation was unsettling.
There was too much at risk for her to be losing focus now.
No matter how tempting the distraction might be.
:)
