Devil's Angel ° {K.M}[Rewriting]

{049}

After School Special [1]
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"I wish that heaven had visiting hours and I would ask them if I could take you home but I know what they'd say, that it's for the best, so I will live life the way you taught me and make it on my own." 
—Ed Sheeran {Visiting Hours}
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"You intentionally sent me to slaughter them." The man greeted her with a distasteful statement as she stepped into their shared room. "Is our agreement on honesty and hidden agendas null and void when it comes to you, Eleanora? Are you free to have your secrets as you please and am I just to fall victim to the aftermath?" He stood in the centre of it, a gruesome sight as his suit was soaked with blood, the sword in his hand at his side gleaming a dark red. America blinked slowly, thinking through her next words as she was well aware of how little of a thread Klaus' trust in her hung by. 

"I'm sorry, Nik," his back remained to her, his head bowed. "We did agree—I was the one to ask, to demand, really. I am sorry that I lied, even by omission." His hand tightened around the hilt of the word. "But if I told you about the unsired hybrids. . . you would've killed them all. And then come another night on another full moon, Hayley would've orchestrated the murder of another twelve, unsired hybrids. We would've lost everything we had." Though he didn't turn to look at her, he raised his head more clearly, indicating that he was listening. 

"There's something bigger happening here—bigger than the cure itself—and Atticus Shane is orchestrating something it because this is part of a ritual. He killed the original twelve in that explosion on the farm. He set you up to kill twelve of your hybrids. There's more to be done and I don't know what yet but it'll only worsen from here on out," she grimaced at the thought but cleared her face as she focused on Klaus once more, "Again, Nik, I'm sorry but know I did it to protect the last piece of the family we still have; the one we made." Different from him and his siblings, and she and hers. They had pieced this one together making it precious in its own right.

America frowned as Klaus moved only to set the sword down on the coffee table, never once turning for her to see his face. "I," she furrowed her brows, exhaling in a confused huff, "Why won't you look at me?" His shoulders tensed, a muscle in his neck twitching under the strain. "Hey, we're—oh," America blinked, a thought occurring to her. Her expression softened as she approached the man slowly, exaggerating her advance though she knew there was no need. "Nik," she whispered, placing her hands on his shoulders while she pointedly ignored his subtle flinch. 

Gently, she coaxed him to turn to her, the man doing so with an air of reluctance but doing it nonetheless. A small, distraught noise echoed in her throat. His face was splattered with blood and as she forced him to meet her gaze, what he had been holding at bay flooded into their bond. Her hands twitched in response to the overwhelming rush of emotions that ranged from anger to distrust to regret and a mix of amoral satisfaction. Those were the most intense, slivers of feeling betrayed strung through the restless chaos of emotions. "Nik," she reached up to cradle his face, caressing his stained skin with her thumb. "I already know."