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❧ it turns out that everything meant nothing ❧

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Amalie knew Mason Lockwood was in trouble the moment she saw Damon drag his unconscious body into the truck. It wasn't hard to piece together what had happened. Mason had tried to get both Damon and Stefan killed the day before, and though his plan had failed, Damon wasn't exactly known for his mercy.

Her instincts told her to stay out of it. Damon and Mason's little feud was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. But Katherine? She would lose her mind if something happened to Mason. And if Katherine found out Amalie could've stopped it and didn't, well, there'd be hell to pay.

As Amalie slipped into the Salvatore house, the air inside felt thick and oppressive, like the house itself was holding its breath. Her footsteps echoed softly down the hallway. She could already feel the weight of the impending confrontation, the crackling tension in the air. There was something bitter in the wind, the unmistakable scent of burning metal.

When she stepped into the parlor, the scene before her made her jaw clench. Mason was chained to a chair in the middle of the room, his wrists bound tightly with thick chains. Sweat was pouring down his face, his eyes squeezed shut in pain. Damon stood over him, poker in hand, its top glowing an angry red from the fire.

Amalie's eyes flicked to the fire poker, watching the flicker of flames in Damon's cold eyes. This wasn't about justice. This wasn't even about revenge anymore. It was about Damon's need to prove dominance—to remind everyone that he was the top predator.

She sighed, stepping into the room. Damn it, Damon. Always so predictable.

"Damon," she said, making her presence known, her voice low and commanding. Damon paused, the poker mere inches from Mason's chest. The werewolf's labored breathing filled the silence.

Damon turned slowly, irritation flashing across his face as he saw her standing there. "What are you doing here, Amalie?" His tone was sharp, more a demand than a question.

She ignored his hostility, stepping further into the room. "Stopping you from doing something stupid," she said evenly, her eyes flicking toward Mason. His eyes were open now, wide with pain and fear. His loyalty to Katherine was questionable at best, but that didn't mean he deserved to die over a petty feud. "Katherine will lose it if you kill him," she warned.

Damon scoffed, lowering the poker slightly but still holding it like a threat. "Since when do you care what Katherine wants? You don't exactly strike me as a babysitter."

Amalie's patience snapped. She crossed the room in a blur of motion, grabbing Damon by the collar and slamming him against the wall with enough force to rattle the picture frames. The poker clattered to the floor as Damon's eyes widened, momentarily shock flashing across his face.

"Let him go," Amalie demanded, her arm pressed firmly across Damon's chest, her hand gripping his throat. She could feel his pulse beneath her fingers, his breath quickening.

For a moment, Damon was silent, his eyes searching hers. Then, he shoved her back, sending her stumbling. Before she could regain her footing, Damon had her pinned against the opposite wall, his forearm crushing against her throat.

"You're making a mistake," he growled, his grip tightening.

Amalie's eyes flicked to the side—and that's when she saw him. Jeremy stood frozen near the door, wide-eyed, gripping a wooden stake with white knuckles. His face was a mix of shock and fear. He hadn't expected this to escalate so quickly.

Her mind raced. She had only seconds to act. In a blur, Amalie slipped out of Damon's grasp and darted toward Jeremy. In an instant, she had him in her arms, her fingers poised around his neck, ready to snap it with the slightest motion.

"Don't make me snap his neck," Amalie warned, her voice deadly calm, her grip on Jeremy tightening just enough to make him gasp. "Let. Mason. Go."

Damon froze, his eyes flashing with anger as they locked onto hers. For a second, neither of them moved, the room thick with tension. Amalie could feel Jeremy trembling slightly in her grasp, his fear palpable. But he was smarter than he looked—his movements were too calm.

Too calculated.

Before Amalie could react, Jeremy drove the stake into her thigh with a sharp, desperate motion. Pain exploded through her leg, ripping a gasp from her throat. Her grip on Jeremy loosened, just enough for him to slip free.

He stumbled away, breathing hard, the stake still embedded in her leg. Amalie hissed, yanking it out, blood staining the fabric of her jeans.

Before she could react further, Damon tackled her to the ground, his full weight pinning her down as his hands wrapped around her throat. His grip was firm, cutting off her air, and no matter how hard she clawed at his arms, she couldn't break free. Damon's smirk was infuriating as he held her down, enjoying the struggle.

"Nice try," Damon sneered, tightening his grip on her throat as her vision began to blur.

With one quick, brutal motion, Damon snapped her neck. The sharp crack echoed through the room, and Amalie's body went limp beneath him. Damon stood up, brushing off his shirt as though it had all been a minor inconvenience, his expression indifferent.

Jeremy, still catching his breath, watched the scene unfold, his face pale but his eyes filled with something...more than fear. Sympathy, maybe, though he couldn't afford to feel too much of it in that moment. He didn't hate Amalie, not really. She had just been trying to stop things from escalating—maybe even protect Mason, in her own way.

"Bring her down to the cellar," Damon said, his voice curt as he shot a glance at Jeremy. "Then leave."

Jeremy hesitated, his gaze flicking to Amalie's still form. "Are you sure that was a good idea?" He asked quietly, his voice laced with uncertainty.

"Yes," Damon snapped, his eyes narrowing. "Now do what I said."

Jeremy swallowed hard, giving a reluctant nod before moving toward Amalie's body. He bent down, gently lifting her in his arms. For a brief moment, he hesitated, looking at her face, at the peaceful stillness that had replaced the fierce energy from just moments ago. Something about it felt wrong, like maybe this wasn't how things should have gone.

But he shook the thought away, carrying her out of the room and down to the cellar as Damon instructed, the weight of what had just happened hanging heavily in the air.

###

Amalie sat against the cool stone wall of the cellar, her muscles still weak from the brutal healing process. Jeremy's stake wound still throbbed, though it was nothing compared to the lingering ache in her neck. The cellar was damp and dark, filled with the musty smell of wet earth and mold. She let out a slow breath, willing herself to focus.

The sound of footsteps approaching snapped her out of her thoughts. She already knew who it was. When the door creaked open, Stefan and Damon stood at the entrance, leaning casually against the doorway. Damon had his usual smug smirk plastered across his face, while Stefan, arms crossed, looked more serious, his eyes fixed on her.

"Well, well," Damon drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm. His smirk was practically tattooed onto his face at this point. "Look who's awake. Enjoy your nap?"

Amalie winced as she pushed herself up from the floor, her leg still aching. She bit back the sharp pain that shot through her thigh and leaned against the wall, smirking despite herself. "Oh, it was delightful, Damon," she replied coolly, brushing the dirt off her jeans. "But I'm guessing the same can't be said for Mason."

Damon's grin widened, and Stefan, who had been leaning against the doorway, crossed his arms, his expression hard. "Oh, yeah," Damon said, as if recalling an inside joke. "We had a little...disagreement, you could say."

"Shocking," Amalie muttered, her eyes narrowing as she met Damon's. "I told you killing him was a mistake."

Damon's eyebrows shot up, mocking surprise. "Oh, did you? Guess I missed that memo." He turned to Stefan with a feigned look of confusion. "Did you hear her say that? No? Weird."

Amalie shook her head, her frustration bubbling beneath her surface. "Katherine's going to livid, Damon. You really think she's going to let you get away with this?"

"Katherine?" Damon sneered, waving her off. "Please. She can throw her little bitch fit if she wants."

Stefan cut in before Amalie could reply. "What are you doing here, Amalie?" His tone was sharp, his green eyes studying her closely. "You've been floating around Mystic Falls, playing Katherine's little helper. What's your angle?"

Amalie rolled her shoulders, as if Stefan's question didn't bother her. "Does there always have to be an angle? Maybe I just wanted to have a little fun."

"Fun?" Stefan scoffed, his voice tight with disbelief. "Katherine's idea of fun gets people killed."

Amalie's lips twitched into a wry smile. "Katherine's been my only friend these past few decades." Living friend, at least. "I figured, why not help her out with her master plan?"

Stefan's jaw tightened at the mention of Katherine, but it was Damon who spoke next. "And what exactly is this 'master plan,' hmm?" He asked, one eyebrow raised, as if daring her to spill.

Amalie's smirk deepened, but there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes that didn't go unnoticed. "You'll learn soon enough," she replied, trying to maintain her composure.

Stefan, always more perceptive than his brother, caught the shift in her tone immediately. He tilted his head, studying her closely. "You don't know, do you?" He asked, his voice softer, but there was an edge to it—an unspoken accusation.

Amalie's silence was all the confirmation they needed. She didn't know. The realization hit her hard, and before she could come up with a retort, Damon let out a laugh—sharp and mocking.

"You don't even know what you're doing here," Damon said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You know she's using you, right? Katherine's probably got you thinking you're her little partner-in-crime, but newsflash: you're just a pawn."

Amalie's eyes flashed with anger, her control slipping just slightly as Damon's words hit too close to home. She knew he was right, but admitting it? Not a chance.

"Katherine and I have an understanding," Amalie shot back, her voice tense. "She needs me."

Damon took a step forward, his smirk never wavering. "Oh, sweetheart, she doesn't need anyone. Not you, not me, not Stefan. You think you're special, but you're just another name on her list of people she can throw away when they're no longer useful."

Amalie clenched her fists, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. She hated how smug Damon was, how easily he dismissed her. She hated that he saw right through her—and worst of all, she hated that he was right. Katherine didn't care about anyone but herself. But Amalie wasn't about to let him have the satisfaction of knowing how deeply that truth cut.

"Well, maybe I don't care," she hissed, her voice sharp as glass. "Maybe I'm just in it for myself, too. Ever think of that?"

Stefan shot a glance at Damon, his jaw tight. He could see the cracks in Amalie's confidence, but he also knew pushing her further could lead to dangerous consequences. Damon, of course, wasn't as cautious.

"Oh, sweetheart," Damon said, shaking his head. "You keep telling yourself that. But when Katherine leaves you out to dry, don't come crying to us."

Amalie's eyes blazed with anger. She could feel the weight of Damon's words pressing down on her, but she wasn't going to let him win. Not like this. She needed an out—something to tip the balance in her favor.

That's when she heard it. A soft shuffle behind Stefan and Damon. Without a second thought, Amalie used her vampire speed, darting around them in a blur and grabbing Jeremy, who had been quietly trying to listen without being noticed.

In an instant, she had Jeremy's body pinned against her, her fangs sinking into his neck. Jeremy gasped in shock, his hands scrambling to push her away, but Amalie held him firmly in place, the rush of blood fueling her strength as she fed.

"Jeremy!" Stefan shouted, his eyes wide with panic as he and Damon rushed to pull her off. But Amalie was faster. She tightened her grip on Jeremy as she drained him.

Jeremy's body went limp in her arms, his eyes fluttering shut as the last of his blood left him. Amalie tossed his lifeless form aside, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes as she wiped the blood from her lips.

Stefan caught Jeremy just before he hit the ground, cradling his body with shaking hands.

Amalie wiped the blood from her lips, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she met Damon's furious gaze. "Next time, he doesn't have his ring," she said coolly, her voice calm but carrying the weight of the threat.

Before either brother could stop her, she was gone—disappearing into the night with the speed only a vampire could manage, leaving the Salvatore brothers standing in stunned silence, Jeremy's body in Stefan's arms.

###

Amalie slipped through the front door of the bed and breakfast, her movements quiet but weary. She had barely closed the door behind her when the atmosphere shifted. The air seemed to thicken, a tension hanging over the room like a dark cloud.

Before she could even register it, Katherine was on her.

In a blur of motion, Katherine slammed her against the nearest wall, her hand wrapped tightly around Amalie's throat, but not squeezing enough to choke her—just enough to assert dominance. The pressure of Katherine's grip sent a jolt of pain through Amalie's neck, but she managed to keep her expression even.

"Where have you been?" Katherine's voice was low, smooth as silk but laced with barely concealed fury.

Amalie struggled to catch her breath, her pulse quickening under the tight grip. She could feel the raw power radiating from Katherine, and she knew better than to fight it. "I tried...to free him, Katherine," she said through gritted teeth, the words forced out under the pressure. "But Damon's stronger than me...you know that."

Katherine's eyes flashed, a dangerous mix of anger and impatience. "Stronger than you?" She repeated, her voice dripping with contempt. "I don't care how strong Damon is, Amalie. I care that Mason is dead."

Amalie winced at the accusation, her own frustration bubbling beneath the surface. She had tried. She really had. But she knew Katherine wouldn't be satisfied with excuses. "I warned Damon," Amalie continued, her voice hoarse, "told him you wouldn't let this slide. But he didn't care. I couldn't stop him."

Katherine's grip tightened for a split second, enough to make Amalie flinch before she released her hold. Amalie gasped for air, instinctively rubbing her throat as Katherine stepped back, her eyes never leaving Amalie's.

"You let him kill Mason," Katherine said, her voice now colder, more calculating. She turned away for a moment, pacing the room. "You had one job—protect him until I could deal with it. Now look where we are."

Amalie bristled at Katherine's words, her own anger surfacing. "You think I wanted this to happen?" she shot back, her voice stronger now. "I knew what you needed Mason for. But you know what Damon's like. Once he sets his mind on something—"

Katherine spun on her heel, her eyes narrowing. "Don't make this about Damon. This is about you, Amalie. I expected more from you. After everything I've done for you." Her voice dropped into something almost dangerous, her gaze pinning Amalie to the spot. "I thought you could handle this."

Amalie's jaw clenched, frustration and guilt swirling inside her. Katherine's disappointment cut deeper than she wanted to admit. "I tried," she repeated, softer this time. "But Damon doesn't play fair. I couldn't win."

Katherine tilted her head, her lips curling into a cold smile. "Then you should have found a way to even the odds."

Amalie didn't respond. What was there to say? Katherine's standards were impossibly high, and no amount of justification was going to change the fact that Mason was gone.

"I don't like failure, Amalie," Katherine said, her voice soft but deadly. She took a step closer, her presence suffocating. "I don't tolerate it."

Amalie met her gaze, her voice quiet but steady. "I know."

For a moment, neither of them moved, the tension thick between them. Katherine's eyes bored in Amalie's, searching for something—weakness, regret, anything that might justify her fury. But Amalie didn't flinch. She never did.

Katherine finally stepped back, her gaze cold and unforgiving. "You've disappointed me, Amalie," she said, her voice like ice. "And I don't forget disappointment easily."

With that, Katherine turned on her heel and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Amalie standing alone in the dimly lit room, the weight of her failure pressing down on her like a stone.

###

Amalie sat cross-legged on the bed in the cozy but dimly lit room she and Katherine had been occupying at the bed and breakfast. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light over the worn leather of Stefan's diary she held in her lap. She idly flipped through the pages, her eyes skimming the neat, tortured handwriting, but her mind wasn't on Stefan's endless brooding. Her thoughts were elsewhere—on Katherine, pacing across the room like a predator in a cage.

Katherine was on the phone, her voice low, cutting like a blade. Every now and then, Amalie caught a few words, and the knot in her stomach tightened. Schemes within schemes, each more dangerous than the last.

Amalie tried to focus on the diary again, but her concentration broke when she heard Jenna's name slip from Katherine's lips, her voice sharp, taunting.

"Did you enjoy your little rendezvous with Stefan this morning, Elena?" Katherine's tone dripped with condescension. "I'll always know, you know that, right? I'll always be one step ahead. Did you like how easy it was for Amalie to get into your house? To replace Aunt Jenna's vervain perfume? Convince her to stop drinking her special tea?"

Amalie's grip tightened on the diary, her heart sinking. She knew what was coming next. Katherine's cruel smile widened as she pressed on, her words dripping with venom.

"Jenna's been my little spy for days now," Katherine purred, pacing with barely concealed glee. "But unlike you, Jenna actually listens to me. So when I suggested that the world would be a much better place if she were to just..."

Katherine trailed off, savoring the chaos on the other end of the line, her smile growing wider as she heard the panic set in. With a soft, satisfied sigh, she ended the call, tossing the phone onto the table like she'd just completed a mundane task.

"Well, that's taken care of," Katherine said, her voice light. But when she turned, her smile faltered as