The flashing red and blue lights of the ambulance cut through the night, painting the worried faces of the students in stark colors. Paramedics worked quickly, and with Matt's and a shaken Jeremy's help, Vicki was loaded onto a gurney and into the back of the van. The doors shut with a final, heavy sound. Matt gave Jeremy's shoulder a firm, reassuring pat, a silent message that he should go home and rest. Jeremy just nodded, looking lost, before turning and trudging away from the dying party.
The crowd began to disperse, the night's excitement now replaced by a chilled dread. Elena hugged her arms against the cold, feeling utterly drained. She walked over to where Jeremy had been standing, her steps slow.
"Let's go home now," she said to the empty space beside her, her voice quiet and tired.
Almost without meaning to, she turned her head. Her eyes found Leo. He was standing a little apart from everyone, watching the ambulance pull away down the gravel path. As if he sensed her look, he turned his head too. Their eyes met across the distance. Caroline was nowhere to be seen—someone had mentioned she was sick behind some bushes after seeing the blood.
In that moment, a small, foolish hope flickered in Elena's chest. The night had been terrifying. Her brother was traumatized, a friend was gravely hurt, and nothing made sense. A part of her, the part that still felt the warm, confusing pull from his car, wished he would walk over. That he would say something, anything, just a simple "Are you okay?" It wouldn't fix anything, but it would feel like an anchor in the chaos.
But he didn't move. He just looked at her, his expression unreadable in the uneven light. He offered no words, no comforting smile, not even a nod of shared concern. The flicker of hope sputtered and died, leaving a cold, hollow disappointment in its place. It was a silly thing to want, she told herself. They barely knew each other.
Elena did not let this show on her face. Her features, schooled by months of hiding her own grief, settled into a tight, composed mask. She gave him one brief, acknowledging nod—a polite gesture. Then she turned her back on him, walking with steady purpose towards the parking area where Bonnie's car waited, its headlights already on. Bonnie was inside in the driver's seat, ready to go.
Elena slid into the passenger seat, the door closing with a soft thud that felt like an end. She stared straight ahead as Bonnie pulled away, the dark trees swallowing the last of the party lights. She let the quiet of the car surround her, burying the disappointment deep down where no one, not even Bonnie, would see it.
Leo watched the red taillights of Bonnie's car disappear down the dark road. For a second, he replayed the look Elena had given him—not angry, but something quieter. Heavier. Was there something she wanted to say?
The thought was cut short by a voice, shaky but trying hard to sound normal.
"I think my shoes are ruined. This mud is, like, impossible."
Caroline appeared at his side, holding a bottle of water. Her face was pale, and her usually perfect hair had a few strands stuck to her damp forehead. She took a small, delicate sip of water, wincing as she swallowed.
"I can't believe what happened to Vicki," she said, her voice a mixture of genuine distress and a kind of theatrical horror. "It was so… graphic. I mean, all that blood? Right there on her neck?" She shuddered visibly, her free hand fluttering near her own throat. "What kind of animal even does that?"
She looked up at Leo, her blue eyes wide, searching for agreement. She was clearly upset, but even now, her energy was directed outward, needing a reaction from him. "Are you okay? You look… really calm."
She moved a half-step closer, the concern on her face shifting into something more intent. The night's trauma was already being woven into her next topic. "That was so scary. We should definitely not be alone tonight. My mom's working late. You should come over. We could, I don't know, just not be by ourselves after… that."
Leo looked at her, at the genuine fear hiding behind her bold invitation. He softened his expression, trying to let her down gently. "Caroline, I can't stay with you tonight," he said, his voice low. "I've got something and I really need to do that."
He understood why she asked. She was scared, rattled by the blood and the violence, and didn't want to be alone in her big, empty house. But he couldn't say yes. The image of Damon Salvatore, smug and ruthless from the show, was fixed in his mind. That vampire was a loose cannon, and Leo had already seen how his story played out. Caroline, with her loud voice and relentless curiosity, would be a perfect target for Damon's cruel games. Without even realizing it, Leo had accepted her as a friend in this strange new world. The thought of her getting hurt—compelled, fed on, or worse—was not something he was willing to watch happen.
Caroline's face fell for a second, the brave front crumbling into clear disappointment. She took another sip of water, buying time. The rejection stung, especially tonight.
"Oh," she said, the word small. She quickly cleared her throat, straightening her shoulders. "Right. Okay. It's probably for the best anyway. My mom might be home earlier than I thought." It was a transparent lie to save face.
She looked him over, her keen eyes missing nothing. "And this 'something you need to do'," she pressed, though her voice was thinner now, worn out by the night. "What are you going to do out here tonight?"
Leo met her gaze. He didn't flinch or look away. He kept his expression open and his voice steady, offering a piece of the truth that felt honest. "Just some personal work I've been putting off," he said. "If I don't take care of it tonight, I won't be able to sleep." It wasn't a lie.The memory Damon hurting Caroline in the story he remember, would indeed haunt him if he did nothing. Taking action was the only thing that would bring any peace.
Caroline studied his face for another long moment. She was looking for a hint of a brush-off, a sign he was humoring her. But he just looked back, calm and serious. She was too exhausted to push further. All the adrenaline from the shock had drained away, leaving behind a deep, bone-tired weight.
"Oh," she said softly, the single word carrying her surrender. She didn't have the energy for more questions. She just needed rest. "Okay."
They turned and began walking across the trampled grass toward where his car was parked, one of the last ones left. The night was quiet now, the party's roar completely gone, replaced by the crunch of their footsteps and the distant chirp of crickets.
A cold breeze swept through, and Caroline folded her arms tightly across her chest, shivering. She walked close to him, her shoulder occasionally brushing his arm, seeking a little warmth or comfort.
When they reached, Leo hit the key fob.The car gave a soft chirp and the interior lights glowed warmly. Caroline didn't move right away. She sat very still, staring at the dark, empty windows of her house.Her voice was barely a whisper when she asked again, "You're sure you won't come in?" The fear was back, plain in her eyes.
Leo looked at her. A part of him really did want to say yes. It would be easier, warmer, to follow her inside and let the rest of the world fade away. But the face of Damon Salvatore was like a cold hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. Solving that problem wasn't just important—it was necessary.
"I'm sure," he said, his voice gentle but final.
She heard the rejection clearly. A flicker of hurt passed over her tired face before she tucked it away. She just said. "Okay."
She finally gathered her purse and opened the door.She walked quickly up the path to her front door, her heels tapping a hurried rhythm on the pavement. At the door, she turned and gave him a small, fleeting wave, a silent goodbye, before slipping inside.
Leo didn't drive off. He waited in the idle car, watching the dark house. A moment later, a soft yellow light appeared in her living room window.
Only then did he put the car in gear. The tires whispered on the asphalt as he pulled away from the curb, leaving the safe, sleeping neighborhood behind. He drove past the last streetlamp, and the world darkened. His path was set. The Mercedes's headlights cut a narrow tunnel through the blackness, leading him not toward home, but toward the old, looming silhouette of the Salvatore boarding house.
***
Leave Power Stones and reviews