The house was silent except for the faint hum of the lights and the soft creak of the wooden floor under Elijah’s shoes. He moved with his usual composed grace, hands folded behind his back as he examined an old portrait on the wall. He had spared Elena. He had spared all of them. Despite betrayal. Despite being daggered like an afterthought.

Kindness, it seemed, still earned him no peace.

A rush of wind, a blur of movement— Damon Salvatore appeared behind him, arms crossed, posture dripping with attitude.

“So,” Damon said, voice low and mocking, “you save the girl, save us all. Very heroic. But I don’t buy it. What’s your real angle, Elijah?”

Elijah didn’t turn. “I warned you not to test me again, Damon.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not great at following rules,” Damon replied, stepping closer, the grin widening. “So how about you cut the cryptic Original routine and—”

He didn’t finish.

In a flash, Elijah moved—faster than Damon could blink. One hand clamped around Damon’s neck, pinning him against the wall with the force of a collapsing building. The impact shook the framed picture beside them.

Damon choked, fingers clawing at Elijah’s wrist—futile. The man was immovable stone, unbothered, almost bored.

“I extended you mercy,” Elijah said softly, dangerously calm. “An unusual courtesy, given your… impulsive habits.”

Damon’s breath hitched, but his eyes—defiant, icy blue—still burned with that familiar arrogance. Even half-strangled, he managed a crooked smirk.

“Well,” Damon rasped, “aren’t you just… full of surprises.”

Elijah’s eyes narrowed, but his composure remained unshaken. “Do not mistake my restraint for weakness. You will not survive another poor decision made in haste.”

“What if I don’t care?” Damon forced out.

Elijah leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper. “Then you will die for nothing. Again.”

Another moment hung—tense, electric.

Then Elijah released him. Damon collapsed forward, though he caught himself on his hands before he fully fell. He coughed, rubbing the bruised skin at his throat, still wearing that lopsided smirk.

“You Originals,” Damon muttered. “No sense of humor.”

Elijah straightened his jacket sleeve with casual elegance. “On the contrary, Damon. I simply don’t find you amusing.”