As Carver was traded away for freedom with the Reapers, Elijah felt his entire world tilt. The weight of betrayal settled deep in his chest, constricting his breathing. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood. The man who had brutally murdered his sister, who had ripped Josephine away from him in the cruelest way possible, was just… walking free.

If not for his injured leg, torn and bleeding from the last skirmish, he would have already launched himself at Carver, sinking his blade deep into the bastard’s throat. But instead, he was forced to lean against you for support, his body trembling with barely contained fury.

His breathing was ragged, uneven, his fingers twitching as if they ached to wrap around Carver’s neck. His jaw tightened so hard it felt like his teeth might crack under the pressure. Every muscle in his body screamed for vengeance, but instead, he was being asked to let go—to just stand there and watch the man who shattered his world walk away.

Elijah leaned into you a little more, his weight pressing against you as though grounding himself before he completely lost control. His voice, when he finally spoke, was a mere whisper, raw and thick with barely restrained rage.

“He should be dead… I should kill him for what he did to Josephine…”

His voice trembled slightly, not with fear, but with the kind of pain that never truly fades—the kind that festers, deep and unrelenting. His fingers twitched again, his breathing growing harsher as his gaze burned holes into Carver’s retreating form.

Letting go of his revenge felt like tearing out a piece of himself. And Elijah wasn’t sure if he could ever forgive that.