❧ werewolf bites are a bitch—witches even more so ❧

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Amalie had barely had time to turn the deadbolt before the door flew open, pushed inward by a determined Elena Gilbert. The younger woman stepped inside without so much as a greeting, her features taut with purpose.

"I need you to come to the Smoky Mountains with me," Elena announced, her words spilling out in a rush, like she'd practiced them in the car and couldn't afford to lose momentum.

Amalie arched a brow, leaning casually against the doorframe she had yet to fully let go of. "Well, it's nice to see you too, Miss I'm-on-a-mission," she replied dryly, kicking the door shut behind her with a quiet click. Her tone carried a hint of amusement, but her sharp eyes followed Elena as she strode into the small apartment without hesitation.

Elena didn't seem to hear her—or maybe she just didn't care. Her gaze darted around the room, scanning it like she was searching for something, though she wasn't sure what. Her restlessness was palpable, manifesting in the way her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. Amalie could see it in the subtle tension in her shoulders, in the way her movements felt slightly too deliberate, like she was trying to keep herself from pacing.

"The Smoky Mountains?" Amalie asked at last, though the question was laced with thinly veiled suspicion. She already knew why Elena was here. It wasn't exactly a mystery.

"Klaus is there," Elena confirmed, spinning on her heel to face her. Her brown eyes were lit with a fire that was equal parts determination and fear, though she did her best to mask the latter. "Which means Stefan's there." She paused, hesitating for just a fraction of a second before pressing on. "And even though me and you don't get along that well..." Her words faltered slightly, and she ran a hand through her hair, visibly uncomfortable. "I figured you'd help."

Amalie tilted her head, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips as she watched Elena squirm. "And why, exactly, would I do that?" She asked coolly, pushing off the doorframe and stepping further into the room. The faintest flicker of anticipation stirred in her—an undercurrent she didn't dare acknowledge. The thought of seeing Klaus again sent an odd mix of unease and exhilaration humming through her veins, though she wasn't about to let Elena see that.

Elena exhaled sharply, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "Because Klaus wants something with you. He talks to you. Maybe you can talk to him—get him to let Stefan go, or at least tell us what the hell he wants with him ."

Amalie let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking her head. "You think Klaus will just spill his plans because I ask nicely?" Her voice carried an edge now, her words tinged with disbelief. "You're giving him way too much credit, Elena."

Elena squared her shoulders, defiance flashing across her face as she planted her feet firmly on the floor. "I don't have any other options, okay?" She shot back, her voice rising slightly. "Stefan's not exactly picking up my calls . I can't just sit here while Klaus has him doing God knows what. And you..." Her voice softened, the fire in her gaze flickering as she hesitated. "You're the only person who might be able to get through to him."

Amalie didn't respond right away. She let the silence stretch out just long enough for Elena's discomfort to return, her gaze fixed on her like a cat watching a mouse. "Let me get this straight," she said at last, her tone light but edged with a dry amusement that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You want me to walk into Klaus' territory, sweet-talk him into giving up Stefan, and then what? Hope he doesn't kill us both for the fun of it?"

Elena didn't flinch, though Amalie caught the subtle tightening of her jaw. "You're not scared of him," Elena replied flatly, her tone daring Amalie to deny it.

"No," Amalie admitted evenly, her gaze never wavering. "But that doesn't mean I'm stupid."

Elena's eyes narrowed slightly, her frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "Are you saying no?"

Amalie sighed, uncrossing her arms and leaning back slightly, her sharp eyes scanning Elena with a mix of curiosity and reluctant admiration. The girl was stubborn, she had to give her that. But Amalie could see the cracks beneath the bravado—the faint circles under her eyes, the nervous way her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. Elena was scared, and desperation was written all over her, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

"I didn't say that," Amalie replied, though her voice remained sharp. "I'm just wondering what your backup plan is when this all goes sideways. Because trust me, it will."

Elena's brows drew together, her voice hard with conviction. "We'll figure it out. We always do."

Amalie let out a quiet snort, shaking her head in disbelief. " We always do ." She repeated the words with a soft laugh, though it wasn't entirely mocking. There was something almost admirable about Elena's blind optimism, even if it was foolish.

With a resigned sigh, she grabbed her jacket off the hook by the door. The worn fabric felt cool against her fingertips as she shrugged it over her shoulders.

"You're lucky I'm bored," she said, slipping the worn sleeves through her arms. "And don't expect me to save you if it means putting myself into danger."

Relief flickered across Elena's face, her tense features softening for just a moment. "Thank you," she said quietly, sincerity softening her voice.

Amalie rolled her eyes, though there was no real heat behind it. "Don't thank me yet," she said, grabbing her keys from the counter and tucking them into her pocket. "This is Klaus we're talking about. He's not exactly Mr. Negotiation."

Elena nodded, her determination returning as she moved toward the door, already trying to think three steps ahead. Amalie followed her, a faint chuckle tugging at her lips as she locked the door behind them.

Whatever happened in the Smoky Mountains, one thing was certain—it wouldn't be boring.

###

Amalie stepped out of Elena's car, her boots crunching softly against the gravel of the Mystic Grill's parking lot. She tilted her head, her gaze flicking to the familiar sign creaking faintly in the breeze.

"What are we doing here?" Amalie asked, her voice edged with impatience as she leaned lazily against the car door. "I thought we were going to Tennessee?"

Elena shut the driver's side door with a thud, slinging her purse over her shoulder as she strode toward the entrance. "We're making a quick pit stop," she replied, her voice firm but breezy, as though that explained everything.

Amalie let out a sigh, loud enough for Elena to hear but not enough to stop her. "A pit stop," She muttered under her breath. "Of course." She pushed herself off of the car and followed Elena at a leisurely pace.

The moment they stepped inside, the warm atmosphere of the Grill washed over them. The clinking of glasses and the faint hum of a jukebox provided the background to the small-town bustle. Elena made a beeline for the bar, and Amalie trailed behind, her gaze scanning the room out of habit more than interest.

Alaric sat hunched over a glass of bourbon, elbows on the bar like he'd been there for a while. His shoulders sagged with a familiar weariness—the look of a man trying to keep up with a world that refused to slow down. He looked up just as Elena marched toward him, his expression shifting from tired resignation to mild suspicion at the determined look on her face.

"How do you feel about a little hike through the Smoky Mountains?" Elena asked, cutting straight to the point as she dropped onto the stool beside him.

Alaric blinked at her, his expression twisting into one of disbelief. "You wanna hunt down a pack of werewolves?" He said slowly, as if making sure he'd heard her correctly, "on a full moon?"

Elena crossed her arms and leaned in slightly, her expression unyielding. "We'll be out of there before the moon is full," she said firmly. "And if you don't come with me, I'm just going to go with Amalie."

At that, Alaric turned his head, his gaze shifting toward Amalie as if he'd only just noticed her lingering presence. She leaned casually against a wooden pillar a few steps behind Elena, one hand tucked into the pocket of her jacket while the other toyed idly with her keys. Catching his eye, she gave him a mockingly cheerful wave, her lips curving into a faint smile.

"Great," Alaric muttered, rubbing the back of his neck like the weight of the world had just gotten a little heavier. "Now there's two of you."

"What?" Elena demanded, her voice sharpening slightly. "You're the one who told me I could handle things on my own now."

"Yeah," Alaric shot back, leveling her with a pointed look, "I meant like frozen dinners and SATs, not hunting werewolves ." He shook his head, muttering something indecipherable into his bourbon before letting out a long, resigned sigh. " All right, fine. Let's just...go. But you're driving."

Elena's face lit with a victorious grin, a flash of satisfaction breaking through the tension that had been simmering between them. She slid off the stool as if she hadn't just strong-armed him into compliance. She glanced back at Amalie, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes.

Amalie arched a brow, her amusement growing. "Well, that was easy," she remarked, falling into step beside Elena as they headed for the door. "I was expecting more resistance."

Behind them, Alaric drained the last of his drink in one long swallow, setting the empty glass on the bar with a faint clink. He stood slowly, his joints creaking faintly as he straightened, and let out a groan that made it clear he wasn't thrilled about being dragged into this.

"You two better have a solid plan," he called after them.

Amalie turned to him as she reached Elena's car, her grin widening. "Oh, we've got a plan," she replied dryly. "It's called winging it ."

###

The car hummed quietly as it glided down the open highway, the steady rhythm of the tires on asphalt filling the silence. Outside, the trees on either side of the road were thick and dark. The occasional rumble from passing cars sliced ​​through the dimness, but otherwise, the road felt like it belonged only to them.

Elena's hands gripped the steering wheel with purpose, her jaw tight, eyes locked on the road ahead like it owed her answers. In the passenger seat, Alaric sat with his arms crossed and his head leaned back, his breathing steady. He looked calm— or at least, calmer than he had any right to be with what they were heading toward.

In the backseat, however, Amalie was far from calm. Restlessness coiled through her, sharp and unrelenting, like an itch she couldn't scratch. She slouched low in her seat, her knee bouncing slightly. The quiet was pressing in on her like static—the voices in her head growing louder the longer they sat in silence. With a huff, she leaned forward and began rifling through her bag, her movements brisk and noisy. The sound of zippers and rustling fabric broke the fragile peace, drawing both Elena's and Alaric's attention.

"What are you doing back there?" Alaric asked, his voice edged with suspicion as he turned his head slightly to glance over his shoulder. His tone suggested he already regretted asking.

"Finding snacks," Amalie replied absently, her focus buried in her beg. Her tone was casual, as if this were a road trip to the beach instead of a potentially life-threatening mission.

A few moments later, she sat back with a triumphant hum, pulling out a blood bag. She bit into it without hesitation, the small plastic seal giving way with a faint pop. The bag crinkled softly as she drank.

From the driver's seat, Elena's eyes snapped to the rearview mirror, her expression shifting from determination to disbelief. "Seriously?"

Alaric's brows knitted together. "You brought that with you?"

Amalie paused mid-sip, the bag still in her hand, and raised her eyebrows at him. Blood still clung to the corner of her mouth, but she didn't bother wiping it away just yet. "What?" She said, her voice thick with mock innocence. "We're driving into werewolf central, and you don't want me at my full strength?"

Elena rolled her so hard it was a wonder she didn't pull something. She muttered something under her breath about vampires always being dramatic. Alaric sighed heavily, shaking his head as he turned back to face the road.

From the seat beside her, Max stretched out lazily, taking up more space than strictly necessary. He draped an arm over the back of the seat and tilted his head back. "I mean, she's got a point," he chimed in, his voice smooth and dripping with exaggerated enthusiasm. "You are a little dramatic."

Amalie shot him a sidelong glare but said nothing, wiping the corner of her with the back of her hand before folding the now-empty blood bag neatly and tucking it into the pocket of her bag. The rustling stopped, and for a brief moment, silence returned to the car—tense and expectant, like the air before a storm.

"So," Alaric said after a moment, breaking the silence. He didn't bother looking back at her this time. "Did you ever find out why Klaus was looking for you?"

Amalie leaned back in her seat, one leg crossing over the other. "Yep," she replied simply, her tone light and breezy, as if the answer were the least interesting thing in the world.

A heavy pause followed. The anticipation in the car was palpable.

"...Care to explain?" Alaric pressed, his patience wearing thin.

Amalie's smirk widened as she leaned her head against the backrest. "Nope," she said immediately, the word rolling off her tongue with deliberate smugness.

Max couldn't stifle his laugh in time, and a few chuckles left his mouth. "Oh, that was good," he said, grinning as he glanced between Amalie and increasingly frustrated front seats.

Elena's fingers tightened on the steering wheel, her frown deepening as she shot a sharp look at Amalie through the rearview mirror. "What do you mean nope ?" She demanded.

Amalie shrugged, her expression utterly unbothered. "Let's just say I think Elena's on the right track based off what she said this morning," she said cryptically, her smirk deepening as her gaze shifted to the window.

Elena blinked, confusion flickering across her features. "What did I say this morning?" She asked, her voice tentative now, like she was trying to follow a trail of breadcrumbs she couldn't quite see.

Amalie didn't answer immediately. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her smirk growing into something sharper. "Think about it," she said, her tone infuriatingly vague.

Max leaned closer to her, his grin conspiratorial. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" He asked, his voice brimming with amusement.

"More than I probably should," Amalie muttered, her smirk unwavering as she ignored the groans of frustration from the front seats.

###

The river ran parallel to their path, its bubbling voice threading softly through the dense forest. The water glinted in patches where the late afternoon sunlight sliced ​​through the thick canopy, casting golden light over the mossy rocks along the banks. The air was rich with the scent of damp leaves and pine, and every step crunched softly against the carpet of fallen foliage beneath their boots.

Alaric led the way, his stride purposeful and unrelenting. He had a hand resting on the strap of his backpack, his head tilted slightly upward as he scanned the ridge ahead. Elena trailed close behind him, her gaze flicking from the uneven trail underfoot to the growing horizon.

"In a couple hours, the full moon's gonna rise just above that ridge," Alaric said, pointing toward the jagged line of the mountain range. His voice carried easily over the quiet. "If Tyler's right, that's where the pack'll be ."

Elena shot him a skeptical look. "You were a Boy Scout, weren't you?" She asked, her tone playful, though her curiosity was genuine. "A Boy Scout, slash vampire slayer?"

Alaric's lips twitched in a faint chuckle, but he didn't look at her. "Slash whiskey-drinking all-around lost cause," he added dryly, his gaze fixed ahead.

Behind them, Amalie trailed at a lazier pace, her boots scuffing through the leaves and gravel with an almost deliberate lack of urgency. Her hands swung at her sides with each step, her attention split between the faint hum of the forest and Max, who walked beside her.

"Do you think he had the little sash and everything?" Max asked in a low voice, his grin wide and mischievous as he fell into step with her.

Amalie tilted her head, pretending to consider the thought. "Oh, definitely," she murmured, her lips curling into a smirk. "Bet he polished his badges every night, too."

"Without question," Max agreed, giving her a mock-serious nod. "Probably has a badge for Most Overpacked Bag too. You think he's hiding a tent in there?"

The laugh that escaped Amalie was quick and involuntary, slipping out before she could stifle it. She pressed her lips together to keep the sound from getting too loud, but Alaric's ears were sharper than she'd hoped. He glanced over his shoulder with a faint frown, his eyes narrowing slightly at the empty space where Max was pacing alongside her.

"What is she doing?" Alaric muttered to Elena, his tone edged with annoyance.

Elena didn't look back, her focus on the trail as it dipped closer to the riverbank. "Who knows," she replied absently, shrugging.

The forest grew denser as they descended, the trees crowding closer together, their trunks dark with moisture. The sound of the river swelled, its soft babble transforming into a low roar as it cascaded over clusters of rocks just ahead. The air was cooler here, the faint spray of water mingling with the earthy smell of wet bark and moss.

Alaric came to a stop near the edge of the riverbank, the uneven ground beneath his boots. He swung his bag off his shoulder and crouched, unzipping it. The jingle of weapons—metal against metal—broke the quiet, and he began pulling out an assortment of tools and neatly wrapped supplies.

Elena stepped closer, her brows lifting as the contents of the bag came into view. Knives, stakes, grenades. "Wow," she murmured, crouching slightly to get a better look. "You came stocked."

"We're not exactly bird-watching," Alaric replied briskly, his attention fixed on sorting through the arsenal. He pulled out a small, compact grenade and handed it to her without hesitation.

Elena took it gingerly, turning it over in her hands with a mix of intrigue and wariness. "Vervain grenade?"

"Wolfsbane," Alaric corrected, grabbing another weapon—a short, serrated blade. The edge gleamed faintly, coated in something viscous and dark. "Aim for the chest. It's the quickest way to put them down."

Amalie crouched beside him, her curiosity sharpening as her eyes skimmed over the array of weapons. "Impressive," she remarked, picking up the serrated blade with a faint grin. She twirled it lightly between her fingers, testing the weight. "I usually just stab and twist things until they stop moving."

Alaric gave her a flat look, unimpressed. "You might want to consider diversifying your skillset," he said, pulling a smaller dagger from the bag and handing it to her.

The blade was sleek and deadly, its surface slick with