Black Heart // Rynn x Alex
@ask-the-hidden-thief
There were few things she remembered about the night she’d died.
Alex DeNuit pointing a gun at her was one of them.
There had been her song - a stunning rendition of “Strangers in the Night” originally by Sinatra, and she remembered making eye contact with the handsome thief and assassin as she sang it. The owner had been smirking between the two of them, already certain of where this road would lead.
She had been too - the redhead and the thief had been exchanging glances all evening, he’d offered to take her home, but she wanted him to work harder. He would take her home one of these days, but it would not be this one. A kiss, perhaps, but no more. Instead, she would make him fall in love from the stage.
It had been a good gig, her favorite really - the family would never sell her out to her parents, but they didn’t expect her to take any lives. Just sing, that was all that was needed of her. To sing - there was nothing more she’d wanted, and her mind had been playing fantasies of her life with Alex DeNuit for all evening.
And then the gunshots, the screams, her diving out of the way as the drummer was shot. Confusion, paranoia everywhere. Alex’s eyes again, promising to get her out of there. A searing pain in her side as she turned to face her assailant - a man whose face she could never quite recall. Gasping breaths, Alex’s voice calling to her, she turned and saw the gun pointed at her, the cruel expression on his face -
And then she was waking up, in a strange, lush bed somewhere halfway across the country. Her mind had been screaming, and beside her was a goblet of blood. She drank it hungrily before looking over at the smirking lips of the man she would come to know as Alaric.
She could never forget his blue eyes, the hunger with which he’d devoured her body night after night, the way she was unable to fight him off. The past five years were a jumble of sex and blood, primal hunger and rage - and Alex DeNuit’s face.
He’s dealt the killing blow, she was sure of it - the blow that had enabled Alaric to claim her, to turn her into this beautiful monster, his little songbird. It was Alex’s fault, then, that she was a captive in this wretched life. After five years, she’d finally become strong enough to break Alaric’s compulsion while he was on a business trip, and she’d escaped his gilded cage.
It was time for Alex DeNuit to pay.
She’d tracked him to New York, a city she’d been taken from when Alaric had claimed her. It stung to be back here, but she had a job she needed to do. Perhaps killing Alex would finally sate her, fill this black void in her chest. But he was going to suffer for it first, think he was going mad until she finally confronted him.
The redhead knew his apartment, and had been following his routines for a few days now. It would start simply enough - the redhead had flashed in the crowd ahead of him a few times already today. And tonight, when he would walk by the busy little cafe just outside his apartment, he would hear her unmistakably velvet voice singing Fever, another favorite she’d had at the lounge so many years ago.
It would be difficult to play the long game, but she had eternity, after all.
