Chapter Text
Zoe slammed her locker shut with more force than necessary. She’d dropped her pen twice already, her bracelet was too tight on her wrist, and every sound felt like it was pressing into her spine. She tugged her sleeves down and turned—only to find Jasper Hale already standing there.
He wasn’t looming or confrontational, just there. Still. Calm. Watching her with quiet eyes that, somehow, made the noise in her head dull a little.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
Zoe blinked. The question was simple. And way too complicated.
“I’m good,” she said quickly, too quickly. “Just tired. It’s March. Isn’t everyone tired?”
Jasper gave a tiny nod, but didn’t move. “You’ve been tense.”
Zoe snorted, deflecting. “I didn’t know you paid that much attention.”
“I sit near you in History now. You tap your pen four times every time the teacher asks a question,” he said gently. “Today you didn’t bring one.”
She faltered at that. “That’s… weirdly observant.”
“I’m just used to watching for things people don’t say.”
Zoe tightened her grip on the strap of her bag. “Well, not everyone’s great at talking.”
“I know.” Jasper shifted slightly, almost as if trying to give her more space, not less. “Just—if you ever need someone to listen, I don’t mind.”
Zoe gave a short, humorless laugh. “You’re offering free therapy now?”
He smiled faintly. “Not therapy. Just company. Or, you know, silence that doesn’t ask anything of you.”
That landed heavier than she expected.
For a second, she just looked at him. Then she glanced away and rubbed at the edge of her bracelet. “Thanks,” she said, and it wasn’t sarcastic.
Jasper didn’t push. He just nodded once. “See you in class?”
“Yeah.”
As he walked ahead, Zoe lingered behind a few paces, her nerves still buzzing like a live wire under her skin. But the noise in her chest wasn’t quite as loud anymore.
And she hadn’t tapped her fingers once during that whole conversation.
Zoe had barely spoken at dinner.
She’d pushed peas around her plate like it was an art form, answered Charlie’s questions with a tight-lipped “fine,” and disappeared into the attic the second the dishes were done. Bella didn’t follow—mostly because she knew her cousin well enough by now to recognize that no amount of hovering would coax a confession out of her.
Still, it gnawed at her. Zoe wasn’t sleeping, that much was obvious. Her sarcasm had grown razor-sharp again—more weapon than humor—and she'd started carrying her bag pressed close to her side, like she didn’t trust the world not to steal from her when she wasn’t looking.
Bella sat on her bed now, trying to focus on the book in her lap, but her eyes kept darting to the door. Waiting for footsteps. Or something to break.
Instead, there was a knock at the window.
She opened it to find Edward—unreasonably gorgeous, as always, and annoyingly aware of it.
“You’re early,” she said, a little breathless, stepping aside to let him in.
He gave her a look. “You expected me to be late?”
She rolled her eyes and let the front door fall shut behind him. “Charlie’s still at the station. He got stuck on a late call.”
Edward nodded. His golden eyes flicked toward the ceiling, then back to her. “She’s not sleeping.”
It was a familiar routine, Edward coming in through the window, him checking on Zoe. She just sighed. “No. She’s not.”
They stood there in silence for a long moment, until Edward reached out and took her hand. “Come with me tomorrow.”
Bella blinked. “What?”
“Baseball,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “The storm’s rolling in. It’s the perfect night.”
She hesitated. “Edward… I can’t just leave her.”
“You’re not her babysitter, Bella.”
“She’s my cousin.”
“She’s not alone. Charlie has the day off tomorrow. And she clearly wants space.” He paused, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “She’s shutting everyone out right now. Not just you.”
Bella looked down. “That’s the problem. I know she’s spiraling again, but she won’t let me in. And I—I don’t want her to think I gave up on her.”
“You’re not giving up,” Edward said. “You’re allowed to live your life too. It’s not fair that your father expects you to monitor her like she’s going to shatter if you blink.”
“I’m not monitoring her—”
“You’re protecting her. I know. But Bella, you’ve done everything you can. You love her. She knows that. And she’s not a child.”
Bella looked back toward the stairs. The house was too quiet.
Edward’s voice softened. “You need a break. One day. It’ll be fun. You like watching Emmett show off.”
“I like watching you show off,” she muttered.
He smiled. “Then come. Please.”
Bella hesitated for a beat longer, then finally nodded. “Okay.”
Edward pulled her into a quick kiss before she could move. “You won’t regret it.”
And if it was selfish to hope that—for one day—Zoe wouldn’t fall apart.
The text came through at 4:03 PM. From Elena Gilbert.
Klaus is dead.
Zoe stared at the screen. Blinked. Read it again.
Klaus. Dead.
Her fingers curled tighter around the edge of the couch cushion, nails digging into the worn fabric. Her breath hitched, shallow and uneven. The fireplace crackled softly in the corner, but she barely registered it over the pounding in her ears.
Klaus was dead.
Which meant...
Zoe felt the nausea rise like a wave. She sat forward, elbows on her knees, the phone trembling slightly in her hand. Her thumb hovered over the screen before she finally typed, fingers suddenly clumsy.
She texted back quickly. How long do we have?
She didn’t write Damon’s name. Or Stefan’s. Or Caroline’s. Or Tyler’s.
She didn’t have to.
Because if Klaus was gone, so was the entire sire line.
And if Damon died, so did Zoe.
The bracelet on her wrist suddenly felt like it was suffocating her.
She waited. The reply didn’t come fast enough.
The floor creaked behind her and she stiffened instinctively before relaxing at the familiar sound of worn-in boots and the soft jingle of Charlie’s belt holster.
“Everything okay, kiddo?”
Zoe didn’t look up right away. Her voice was flat, a little hoarse. “Not really.”
Charlie crossed his arms, watching her. “But it might be?”
Zoe glanced up, forcing a shrug. “Yeah. Maybe.” She tried to keep her expression neutral, but she wasn’t sure she succeeded.
Charlie narrowed his eyes slightly, but didn’t push. “Where’s Bella?”
Zoe snorted, grateful for the subject change. “Out with Edward.”
Charlie raised an eyebrow. “That boy sure spends a lot of time with her.”
“Yeah, well,” Zoe muttered, sitting back against the couch. “At least she’s not sneaking him in through the window.”
Charlie grunted. “Small blessings.”
Zoe looked back at her phone. No reply yet.
She didn’t know how to feel. She didn’t know if she should cry or scream or laugh in exhausted relief.
Because Klaus being dead should’ve made her feel safer.
Instead, she’d never felt more afraid.
Lightning flashed across the sky as Bella stepped onto the edge of the clearing, her boots sinking slightly into the wet earth. She tightened her hold on Edward’s hand, still unsure how she had agreed to come. The air buzzed with electricity—natural and otherwise. The storm rolled in thick waves overhead, its rumble perfectly timed for the game the Cullens had promised would only work “with thunder.”
Edward’s family was already in motion.
Alice was a blur, twirling once in the misty rain before darting into position. Carlisle—stoic and sharp—moved with an ease that didn’t match his doctor’s exterior. Emmett cracked his knuckles with a grin, stomping once like he was trying to shake off static.
And Rosalie stood back near the tree line, arms crossed, her golden hair damp from the mist. She hadn’t spoken much since Bella arrived.
Bella glanced around. No sign of Zoe. Not that she expected her cousin to be invited. Not here. Not to this.
“She's not coming,” Edward said softly, reading her expression. “She doesn’t know what we are. We can’t risk it.”
“I wasn’t expecting her,” Bella replied, though a part of her wished she could share this secret. Zoe would’ve had a snarky comment about Emmett’s warmup stretches or Alice's outfit.
“She’s been off again,” Jasper said suddenly from the side, voice low but clearly meant for the others. He was standing in the outfield, but his gaze cut toward the group like he’d felt something shift. “Tighter. Paranoid. Whatever happened a few days ago—it's still gnawing at her.”
Rosalie didn’t move, but her voice was cool and clear. “She’s scared. But pretending she’s not. And no one’s calling her out for it.”
Emmett tilted his head, half-listening, half-shaking out his arms. “That’s kind of her thing, right? Going quiet when stuff gets bad. Acting like she’s just fine.”
“She’s not fine,” Rosalie said, finally turning to look at him. “She’s unraveling again.”
Edward’s jaw tensed. “There’s only so much we can do without telling her.”
Jasper nodded once. “She’s not sleeping again. I felt it this morning. Exhaustion. And guilt.”
Edward exchanged a knowing look with Bella.
“You think it’s about her mom again?” Emmett asked, voice softer now.
“Maybe,” Jasper replied. “Or something new.”
Rosalie’s gaze moved back toward the trees, away from the others. “She’s been carrying a knife again.”
That stilled the conversation.
Thunder rolled overhead, masking the silence that followed.
“I hate this,” Emmett muttered. “Not knowing what’s wrong. Not being able to help.”
“She’s not just some fragile human,” Rosalie said, but her voice held no edge—only worry. “But she’s still one of us. Whether she knows it or not.”
Bella frowned, not understanding what Rosalie meant. Her cousin was fragile and very human. Why would she be one of the Cullens? And why wouldn’t she know?
Edward looked toward the storm with narrowed eyes. “The moment this becomes something we can’t ignore, we won’t. Agreed?”
Jasper gave a sharp nod. Rosalie didn’t reply, but her silence was confirmation enough.
From across the field, Alice called cheerfully, “Batter up!”
The Cullen siblings broke away—some running, some vanishing in a blur. But Rosalie lingered a beat longer, eyes still fixed on the woods behind them, as if watching for someone who’d never come.
Zoe lay sprawled on her stomach, twirling a pen in one hand as rain flickered against the window. The storm was picking up—Forks loved a dramatic backdrop, and tonight, it delivered.
Her phone buzzed once, and for the first time in days, she didn’t flinch.
Damon.
She stared at the name for a beat, then tapped answer and rolled onto her back.
“Hey stranger,” Zoe said quietly, the words light in tone but heavy at the edges—like she was holding herself together with frayed thread. “How’s the whole impending death treating you?”
On the other end, Damon snorted. “I’m flattered. You open with sass, not sobs. I was worried you’d gone soft.”
Zoe exhaled a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “I’m emotionally versatile,” she said, though her voice cracked slightly. “Now spill. Klaus is dead? You’re alive? Or do I need to start a funeral Pinterest board, or...?”
Damon hesitated, then said, “False alarm, apparently. Bonnie did some witchy hocus-pocus. Klaus is still technically alive—he’s just wearing Tyler Lockwood like a badly fitted jacket.”
Zoe froze. “Klaus is in Tyler’s body?”
“Yeah,” Damon muttered. “Don’t ask me how. Something about transferring essence—Bonnie was not in a sharing mood when I pressed her for the fine print.”
Zoe’s hand tightened around the phone. “And Tyler?”
A pause.
“I don’t know,” Damon admitted. “But Bonnie wouldn’t have done it if it meant killing him. She wouldn’t have. Not knowingly.”
Zoe sat back against the headboard, heart heavy. “So he’s just… trapped. Somewhere. Inside.”
“Probably.”
“And if Klaus had really died…” Her voice thinned out, distant. “If he had really died, you would’ve…”
“Yeah,” Damon said softly. “Me. Stefan. Caroline. All of us.”
She closed her eyes. “And me.”
There was silence on the line.
“Zoe—”
“You know the bond isn’t just emotional, Damon,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “If you go, I go. We both know that.”
Damon’s voice was quieter now. “I didn’t forget.”
“I almost wish you had,” she murmured. “Would’ve made it easier to pretend this wasn’t real.”
Zoe ended the call, her fingers lingering on the phone screen for a beat longer than necessary. The silence that followed was hollow and sharp. She stayed perfectly still, as if even breathing too hard might shatter the fragile calm clinging to her.
The doorbell rang.
Zoe blinked.
She heard the creak of Charlie’s recliner as he stood, the familiar tread of his boots moving toward the front hall. “Zoe?” he called casually. “Someone’s here for you.”
Her stomach dropped.
She rose slowly, walking toward the door like someone approaching a ledge. The second she stepped into the entryway, she saw him.
Alaric.
Or what used to be Alaric.
He looked the same. Same coat, same rough stubble, same tired eyes. But there was something behind his gaze now—something wrong. Too still. Too cold. Her breath hitched.
Charlie looked between them, relaxed and unsuspecting, while Zoe’s heart thundered against her ribs.
“Hey there,” he greeted casually. “Been a while.
Zoe’s heart pounded.
Alaric smiled. “Yeah, figured I’d check in.” He turned to Zoe and called her something he’d never called her before. “Hey, Zozo.”
Charlie turned toward the door. “Come-”
“Hey, Charlie,” Zoe said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “I can talk to him outside.”
Charlie raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”
She forced a shaky smile. “Yeah. I’ll just talk to him outside. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Charlie hesitated, clearly uncertain, but nodded. “Alright. I’ll be in the kitchen. Don’t freeze out there,” he joked.
The second the door closed behind her, Zoe backed down the steps, keeping her eyes locked on him. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Alaric followed, his movements unhurried. “That’s funny. I was about to say the same thing.”
Zoe swallowed hard, the bond with Damon thrumming inside her—warning her. This wasn’t Ric. Not really. Not anymore.
“You’re not Ric,” she whispered.
He tilted his head. “I am. Just… upgraded.” He stepped closer. “Better. Clearer. I see it all now, Zoe. I see what needs to be done.”
She took a shaky step back. “Why are you here?”
“Because I care about you, Zoe. I really do. Which is why this is hard.”
He moved too fast. The blade was in his hand before she could react.
She tried to run, but he caught her by the wrist and twisted.
The knife slid into her stomach—quick and clean, with the same grim efficiency she’d once seen him use to stake vampires.
Her cry was strangled, sharp.
He eased her to the porch steps like a child putting down a toy. Alaric crouched beside her, eyes filled with something almost tender. But it was the wrong kind of soft—eerily calm, haunting in its finality.
“I couldn’t let Klaus find you,” he murmured, brushing a curl from her forehead. “You’re too dangerous, Zoe. You always were.”
Zoe coughed, blood tinting her lips.
”He can’t get his hands on a doppelgänger like you. You’re an anomaly, Zoe. And anomalies… they don’t survive in nature.”
She choked out a breath, pain burning through her.
“I really am sorry,” he said. “But someone has to clean up the mess the Originals made.”
He stood and vanished into the shadows before the door could open again.
And inside, Charlie hummed softly to himself, reheating leftovers—unaware that his niece was bleeding on the front steps.
The storm rolled overhead, a low rumble reverberating across the forest clearing. Lightning flickered across the sky like a fuse slowly burning. Alice went still mid-motion, eyes unfocused, a rigid statue carved in tension.
Carlisle was at her side in an instant, Jasper right next to them.
“What do you see?” he asked, voice calm but clipped at the edges.
Her mouth moved before her eyes caught up. “Three of them. Strangers. Coming fast.”
Rosalie stepped closer, brows narrowing. “Nomads?”
Alice gave the faintest nod. “They heard us.”
It didn’t take long for the family to fall into instinctual formation. Emmett shifted his stance. Jasper slid closer to Bella. Edward was already in front of her, jaw tight.
Carlisle turned toward the dark horizon, the scent of ozone and sap mingling with something sharper. Foreign. The tang of unfamiliar vampires, carried on the wind.
He knew this feeling. The seconds before a predator stepped into the clearing. The quiet before the collision.
His body remembered before his mind allowed it.
A different clearing. Another storm. The scent of blood in the snow.
He’d stood just like this—shoulders squared, head high, calm on the surface as chaos cracked beneath his ribs. And she’d stood beside him.
Zoe Cullen.
No, his Zoe.
The red-eyed monsters had come for her, not knowing who she was to him. Or perhaps knowing exactly.
He remembered the way her coat had twisted in the wind. How she hadn’t screamed when they tore her from him. How her eyes had stayed locked on his even when her body was wrenched away.
He remembered the moment her scream finally came. How she’d told him to run. And the silence that followed.
The wind shifted, and Carlisle snapped back to the present like surfacing from a frozen lake. The ghost of her voice clung to the back of his throat.
This wasn’t 1938. This wasn’t that nightmare.
But the fear was the same.
He looked to Bella—small, human, trembling slightly in her borrowed cap and jacket. She was pressing herself closer to Edward now, instinctively curling in as the others braced around her like a fortress.
Carlisle exhaled slowly and stepped forward, into the open.
“Let’s not escalate this,” he said evenly, as the approaching footsteps grew closer, faster.
A flash of movement on the tree line. Then another.
Three figures stepped into the clearing—Victoria’s feline poise, James’ shark-smile, and Laurent’s weary distance.
A storm overhead. Tension crackling below. And still, in the back of Carlisle’s mind, a single, haunting echo: I’ve lived this before.
But he pushed it down. He was no use to anyone if he let the past bleed into the now.
Still, somewhere in his chest, a whisper of warning stirred. Something else was wrong tonight. He couldn’t name it yet. Couldn’t see it. But he felt it, like a ripple on the surface of a still lake, just before something broke through from below.
He just didn’t know that back in Forks, someone else he cared about was already bleeding.