Chapter 4

Katherine pov ..

"I planned it all," Klaus announced with that stupid, smug grin plastered across his face-like he thought he was a genius ,his mouth twitching into a dangerous smirk.

I stared at him. Tall, broad-shouldered, a walking idiot in a thousand-dollar suit.

I smiled.

"Congrats," I drawled, stepping forward just slightly, my fingers playing with the edge of the knife . "You planned it all? Too bad your brain couldn't plan for this."

Before he could blink, in one quick motion, the blade in the air left my fingers like a whisper of death.

It sliced through the side of his cheek-clean, sharp, leaving a trail of blood like a red warning. He flinched, hands instinctively rising to his face before the knife embedded itself straight between the eyes of the guard behind him . The body dropped with a thud .

The silence that followed was heavy. Deadly.

I turned my back on him without fear.

But Klaus's voice rang out immediately, sharp as gunfire.

"Catch her. Bring her to me. Alive!!."

I didn't wait. I ran. Silent. Fast. Calculated.

The hall lit up with chaos - guards poured out from corners. I spun into a slide, grabbing a pistol off one of the downed men. Two shots, two bodies hit the ground. I vaulted over a couch, another shot - a throat exploded behind me. But they just kept coming.

The third reached for me-rookie mistake. I gripped his wrist, disarmed him, flipped the gun, and fired two clean shots into the others charging in behind him. Blood misted the air.

I kept running. My body crying from the inside-screaming from the open wound on my arm-but adrenaline kept me upright. Kept me breathing. Kept me angry!.

The gate was in view. Freedom, just ahead. My fingers gripped the gun tighter.

Then-

**Screech.**

A sleek UV-tinted black car spun and stopped right in front of me, blocking the gate like a final boss.

The driver's door swung open, and out stepped Elijah.

Impeccable suit. Bloody hands. Cold eyes

My feet skidded to a stop, breath ragged. I felt another figure rush up behind me. Without hesitation, I turned and planted my last bullet in his neck. The body collapsed behind me .

I looked up at Elijah-my knees trembling now. From blood loss. From rage. From everything.

I didn't lower my weapon.

Elijah didn't look at him. His eyes were locked on me. He didn't say a word to anyone. Just raised a two of his finger . Three of his men moved. In seconds, I was restrained.

I fought like hell - knees, elbows, screams, spit - until Elijah walked right past me and toward Klaus, his expression carved from stone.

Klaus stepped out slowly, clapping. "Don't tell me you came here to rescue her, brother."

" What the hell did I say?” Elijah’s voice was low, tight. “ I warned you never to step a foot here again. "

“Relax,” Klaus muttered, touching the bleeding cut on his cheek, “ we were just having fun ”

Elijah didn’t wait to throw the first punch. It landed with the weight of anger .

Klaus staggered. Laughed. Then fought back.

The two brothers went at each other like lions in a cage—elbows, fists, knees, teeth. They were identical in fury and technique, but Elijah’s rage had a cleaner edge. Klaus’s was wild.

I suddenly became weak in the knee , holding my bleeding arm. The world tilted. My vision blurred.

Klaus tried to go for Elijah’s throat. Elijah slammed him into the wall. Then again. And again—until he dragged him across the stone and threw him into the grand marble fountain in the center of the courtyard.

Water splashed everywhere. Klaus lay coughing, soaked and laughing like the madman he was.

Elijah stepped back, breathing heavy. His shirt was torn, blood soaking his knuckles. His eyes were blazing.

He pulled out his gun.

My heart jumped.

Klaus looked up from the water, laughing. “You going to kill me over her? You think she’s worth it?”

But Elijah didn’t point the gun at him.

He turned the barrel toward 'me'

Right at my skull .

My body tensed. I fought against the men holding me, but my knees buckled.

My head was spinning — my vision blurry . I could barely stand. Blood had been dripping from my arm since the night I got here , soaked into my skin, cold and sticky.

Too much blood loss.

Too much pain.

The adrenaline couldn’t keep me upright anymore.

Elijah moved closer, gun unwavering. One step then the other....

My knees finally gave out.

I collapsed.

Unconscious.

The courtyard fell into silence. The guards looked at each other.

Klaus wiped the blood from his mouth, half-drenched in water, still smiling.

The last thing I saw before the world turned black was Elijah—expression blank. Cold. And that damn gun still pointed at me like I was the one who ruined everything.

“Guess she finally shut up,” Klaus coughed from the fountain, still laughing. “Took long enough.”

*SPLASH*

A splash of water slammed into my face like a punch. Ice-cold, deliberate, merciless. I gasped—lungs snapping awake—body jerking back to life. My head throbbed, my arms screamed from how long they’d been bound, and my vision blurred before slowly adjusting to the dimly lit room.

Chains. Around my wrists. Ankles. Neck.

The taste of blood sat on my tongue like a warning, metallic and warm.

I looked down at the blood-soaked bandage around my arm. Someone patched me up. Ładny

Then I saw him.

Sitting across from me, legs crossed, hands folded like a smug monarch. Elijah. Klaus’s terrifying twin. Not smug like Klaus—collected. Controlled. Dangerous in silence.

His black shirt was rolled to his elbows, revealing veins, cuts, and bruises still healing from their little sibling showdown. But his eyes—those calm, ocean-deep eyes—were the real weapon. They studied me like I was something between prey and a puzzle.

“You're awake,” he said coldly. “Good.”

I scoffed, ignoring the sting on my lip. “Was the water really necessary, or are you just naturally a dramatic bastard?”

He smiled—barely. “ We have… unfinished business.”

I tried to move. The chains clanked, resisting. Tight. Reinforced. Shit.

My eyes flicked around. Two guards stood by the door, guns holstered, eyes on me like I was a lion in a cage. Smart.

Elijah stood, slow and deliberate, and walked to a small steel cabinet in the corner. He pulled out a thin file. Paper. Photos. Notes.

“I went through every inch of your activity over the past month,” he said, opening the file. “You didn’t meet anyone. No messages in or out. No trace of contact from the outside.”

He dropped a photo in front of me. A man. Neck tattoo. Dead eyes. Number 27 scrawled on his chest in red ink.

He dropped another. And another.

“28. 31. 45. All yours, aren’t they?”

I smiled, even though my mouth ached. “You kept count. I’m flattered.”

“You were sent to kill my brother,” he said. “But what interests me more is *who* sent you… because no one outside your crew could’ve contacted you. Which means…”

“...someone inside my circle wanted me gone,” I finished for him. “Brilliant deduction, Sherlock. Took you this long?”

He tilted his head, gaze sharpening.

“What if,” he said, circling me like a wolf, “what if I told you I’m willing to let you go… tonight. I just need you to do one thing.”

I didn’t reply. Not yet.

“You help me eliminate the man I’m meeting tonight. No drama, clean cut. And you’re free.”

I laughed. “So, what—scratch your itch for blood and I walk free? That’s a damn lie.”

He leaned down, voice low. “I already know who sent you. Someone *very* close. The only reason you’re still alive is because I need you to kill him for me.”

“And if I say no?”

“I kill your entire crew,” he said simply. “One by one. Including you.”

He paused, face now inches from mine. “Or... I keep you here. Break you until you beg to trade names for air.”

I met his gaze, biting back the flare of panic. I’d faced worse. Much worse.

“I’m not your puppet,” I spat.

“And Klaus isn’t dying unless I allow it,” he replied smoothly.

That did it.

I spit in his face.

The room went still.

His jaw clenched, his hand shot out—gripping my throat tight. He pulled close, his other hand raising—

But I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. I *dared* him with my eyes.

Hit me. Try it.

His hand hovered. He stared hard into my face—then let go. A beat passed.

Then he turned to the guards.

“Unchain her.”

" Sir ? what ? "

I blinked

“Do it,” he repeated.

They hesitated—but followed orders.

My limbs dropped free. My arms ached from the sudden blood rush, but I stood . Alert. Ready.

“She’s not going anywhere,” Elijah said, backing away. “Take her to the guest room. "

Minutes later, I stood in the center of a velvet-draped room. Warm, golden lights. Too soft. Too fake.

Then the knock came.

The doors opened—and there they were: maids, stylists, makeup artists… and a sleek black dress laid over the arms of one of them. Heels. Lipsticks. A tray of luxury I didn’t ask for.

I stepped forward, snatched the dress, and turned to the maid.

“Tell Elijah…” I paused, cracking a grin.

“…the Ghost Knife doesn’t go anywhere without her blades.”

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