Unspoken (The Vampire Diaries 12)

Elena did not take his hand.

Chapter 26

Matt wiped his sweaty palms against his jeans and let his head rest against the driver’s seat for a moment. He took a deep breath before looking at the polished wooden

stave in the passenger seat—one of Meredith’s old bo staffs. He gritted his teeth and picked it up. It was cool and sturdy in his hands, and he gripped it tightly, trying to remember all the moves Meredith had ever taught him.

Then he climbed out of the car, dread pooling in his stomach. Waiting wasn’t going to make this any easier.

Gravel scattered under his feet as he made his way across the parking lot toward Jack’s warehouse. Everything was silent, no signs of life in the empty lot. The silence seemed wrong, and, after a moment, Matt realized how weirdly complete it was: no sounds of traffic from the highway, no rustling of leaves from the trees, no birdsong. He shuddered, but kept walking.

Matt couldn’t wait for the others to make a plan, couldn’t wait for Elena and Damon to come home. Not while Jasmine was suffering.

Sweet, intelligent Jasmine with her shining eyes and softly curving mouth. Jasmine who loved him, who trusted him. Who had thrown herself wholeheartedly into trying to help Matt and his friends. Whatever happened, he had to at least try to save her. Tears prickled at the back of Matt’s eyes, and he blinked them away.

He wasn’t an idiot. There was a nest of vampires inside this warehouse. With his total lack of special powers, he was probably going to his death.

Matt swallowed hard. It would be better to die today trying to save Jasmine than to live sixty more years knowing he’d abandoned her.

Clutching the stave tightly, he considered his silent surroundings. The whole place seemed still and empty, as if it were deserted, but Matt knew better. He inspected the door. There was a little rust on its panels, but it was solid looking and made of steel. There was no way he’d be able to kick it down.

With a mental shrug, Matt raised his fist and pounded heavily on the door, which let out metallic echoing thuds. They were vampires, they would have heard him coming.

The door gave a long screech as a lanky dark-haired guy with close-set eyes—not a guy, a vampire—opened it. Acting on instinct, Matt moved fast.

One hard thrust from the stave in Matt’s hand, and the vampire staggered and fell, blood blooming red across his chest, his mouth open in a grimace of surprise. His eyes dimmed. He was dead, at least for the moment. Lucky hit. Matt knew with deadly certainty that his luck wasn’t going to last.

Matt stepped over the dead vampire and moved toward the next one, a slim blond girl with a short swinging bob.

She was just standing still, looking bewildered, as if events were happening too quickly for her to catch up. Beyond her, chained to the back wall of the warehouse, he glimpsed Jasmine and quickly looked away, his breath catching.

He couldn’t concentrate on the fight if he looked at her right now. He wouldn’t have much time before the vampires got over their surprise and their superior reflexes kicked in.

But maybe he could get past one more, maybe he could make his way to Jasmine. Please, he prayed silently, raising his stave again. Please. If I’m going to die, at least let me touch Jasmine again.

But as he moved toward the girl, a pair of strong arms, as unyielding as steel bands, wrapped around him from behind and pinned Matt’s arms to his sides.

He tried to struggle, but it was pointless; however much he strained, he couldn’t move at all. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tall, thin vampire struggling to his feet, already beginning to recover. Giving in to despair, Matt sagged against his captor’s arms.

“Can you think of a reason I shouldn’t kill you right now?” Jack’s voice said, soft and low. His breath was warm against Matt’s ear, and Matt shuddered.

Jack squeezed him tighter, and Matt struggled to breathe. It was painful, the pressure of Jack’s arms compressing his ribs, slowly pressing the air from his lungs. Now that the fight was over, and he’d failed, just as he’d feared he would, he let himself look across the warehouse toward Jasmine for the first time.

Her arms were chained high above her head, her muscles taut with the strain, and she was looking straight back at him, her eyes shining with love. Tears ran down her cheeks, making long tracks through the dirt there. There were streaks of dried blood on the side of her throat. She gave Matt a tiny, tremulous smile, and his chest ached. He hadn’t saved her, and now she was trying to send him comfort.

“Take me instead,” Matt blurted out.

“What?” Jack sounded startled, and his arms loosened a fraction. Matt gasped in a quick breath.

“I’m better for your purposes than Jasmine is,” he said hurriedly. This was his only back-up plan, Jasmine’s only chance. He had to sell it. “I’m a better hostage. Elena and the others have known me longer, they’re more likely to trade Damon for me. You hunted with us. You know what I’m saying is true. ”

Jack made a thoughtful humming noise in his throat, considering, and Matt clenched his teeth. This was the only way he could possibly save Jasmine, he realized, by throwing himself into the abyss. They were all watching him, five or six vampires, their eyes hostile. Everything was sharp and bright at the edges, and he wondered if he was going into shock.

Then Jack huffed, a short, amused sound. “Who says chivalry is dead?”

Fast enough so that the world blurred around him, Matt felt himself lifted and rushed across the warehouse. Jack slammed him back against the wall so hard that Matt was knocked breathless once more.

“Now, tell me why I shouldn’t keep you both?” Jack asked.