Chapter 50

ELIZABETH

The sound of sirens still echoed in my ears. Chloe's blood was still on my hands. Literally. It had dried, flaky and crimson across my fingers, a horrifying reminder of what had just happened.

Everything had unraveled so fast.

The ambulance lights flashed red and white across the courtyard, casting long, eerie shadows over the once-grand council estate. People were still huddled around, whispering in panic, gasping, some crying. Others were filming. Of course. People always wanted a story-even if it was soaked in blood.

I stood frozen, watching as Chloe's body-no, not her body, she wasn't gone, she couldn't be-was gently lifted onto the stretcher. Her parents flanked her, their faces pale and wild with grief. Mayor Edmond's shirt was stained where he'd held her against his chest. Caroline, her mother, was hysterical-tears streaking her flawless makeup as she shouted for them to hurry.

The medic turned to the crowd. "Only family. One more person can ride with her."

"I'll go," I said without thinking.

But Vanessa touched my arm. "No, I'll go. If-if she wakes up. If whoever did this comes back-" She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to. Her magic might be the only thing that could protect Chloe now.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. "Go. Stay with her."

"I promise," she whispered, then turned to climb into the ambulance. The doors slammed shut, and in a blink, the flashing lights vanished into the night.

And just like that, I was alone.

Well, not alone. But I'd never felt more useless in my life.

I reached for my phone, hands trembling, already opening a taxi app when I saw him-Damon. Leaning against the hood of his black car, one hand in his pocket, the other spinning his keys lazily.

He didn't look concerned. But something about the tension in his jaw told me he knew more than he let on.

Before I could think, before I could talk myself out of it, I crossed the gravel and slid into the passenger seat of his car.

He didn't say anything. Just glanced over at me, eyes unreadable, then started the engine.

"Take me to the hospital," I said softly.

Instead, he turned the opposite direction.

"Damon-what the hell are you doing?" I asked, panic rising.

"We need to talk," he said, eyes on the road.

"I don't want to talk," I snapped. "My best friend might be dying right now-"

"Exactly," he interrupted. "Which is why you need to understand what's happening before you go charging in there like some tragic hero."

I turned away, arms folded tightly, trying not to scream. "One of your siblings did this," I muttered. "Why? Why would they hurt her?"

He didn't answer.

He drove like he didn't need the rules of the road-smooth turns, fast but controlled. I watched the streetlights blur by, my stomach in knots. Ten minutes later, we pulled up outside the First French Quarters.

He got out. I followed.

"Damon-please," I said, my voice cracking as I grabbed his arm. "Say something. Do something. She's dying, and you're just-"

He stopped walking, turning toward me. I could see the faint glow of the antique lanterns hitting his face, casting shadows across his sharp jawline.

"I told you last time to trust me," he said quietly, removing my hand from his sleeve.

I stared at him, stunned. His words hit me like cold water.

"I don't know-"

"No," he said. "You don't have a choice."

I looked away, confused.

Still, I followed him through the arched gates and into the main hall of the quarters.

The place looked like it belonged in another century. Dark mahogany walls, deep red velvet curtains, oil paintings of men in old coats who looked far too much like Damon and his brothers. The air smelled like old books, whiskey, and something else-something ancient.

We rounded the corner, and there they were-Elijah and Adam.

Elijah was in the middle of a sentence. "-her temper is getting out of hand."

Adam leaned casually against the fireplace, holding a half-empty glass of whiskey, eyebrows lifted in faux innocence. "And here I thought you liked a bit of chaos, brother."

Damon's voice cut through the room. "Adam."

Adam turned. When he saw me, his smile widened. "Ah, the lovely Elizabeth. To what do we owe the honor?"

I stepped slightly behind Damon without realizing it.

Damon's tone dropped into warning. "Tell me what happened."

Adam took a slow sip of his drink. "I didn't lay a finger on the girl, if that's what you're implying."

"You did something to her," I hissed. "You used her. You put her in danger."

He tilted his head like a curious cat. "Maybe. But I actually like the blonde. She's... entertaining. Rubs off on you in the best kind of way."

"Then why?" I demanded. "Why hurt her?"

Adam gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I didn't. But..." His eyes flicked toward me, full of that smug, eerie knowing.

Damon stepped closer. "But what?"

Adam placed the glass down slowly. "Liz and her little witchy friend pissed off our dear little sister. And you know how Bella gets when she's crossed."

The air in the room thickened. My stomach twisted.

"Where is Bella?" Damon asked, his voice sharp.

"She should be here by now," Elijah said, sounding genuinely concerned. "But if the girl survived... Bella won't stop until she finishes what she started."

A cold chill ran down my spine. I gasped, heart skipping.

"No-Chloe," I whispered, already turning toward the door.

I was already calling Vanessa. She didn't pick up.

"Damn it, pick up!" I yelled, shoving the phone into my pocket. I was running for the car before I even knew what I was doing.

Damon caught up to me, grabbing my arm gently. "Let me drive."

"I don't trust you," I spat.

He gave a wry smile. "Then this should be interesting."

He pulled me toward the car.

"I'm coming too," Elijah said behind us, already pulling his keys from his coat.

"You actually care?" I asked him bitterly.

He met my eyes, his voice low and serious. "If Bella is out for blood, this ends in disaster for everyone. Including us."

I didn't understand half of what they were talking about. But I didn't care.

I just knew Chloe was in danger, and we were running out of time.

I sat beside Damon, trying not to scream as he sped through the streets of New Orleans. I watched the city lights pass in a blur, my pulse in my ears.

Beside us, Elijah kept glancing down at his phone, fingers moving fast-maybe texting someone, maybe organizing damage control. Who knew.

"Why does Bella want Chloe dead so badly?" I finally asked.

There was silence. Then Elijah answered.

"She's petty," he said simply. "And cruel. She doesn't take insults lightly, and your friend's little witch nearly brought her to her knees."

"She attacked us," I snapped. "She cornered me. Vanessa was defending me!"

Damon's jaw flexed. "Bella doesn't see it that way. She only sees someone daring to hurt her."

The hospital was only a few minutes away now. But it felt like forever. My palms were sweating. My chest ached.

"Please let her be okay," I whispered to myself.

Damon's fingers tapped on the steering wheel. "If Bella's there... we'll handle it."

I didn't know what "handle it" meant. I wasn't even sure if I trusted him to do it.

But I didn't have a choice.

We turned the corner, and the hospital sign came into view.

She was in there. Chloe. My best friend. My sister in every way but blood.

And Bella might already be inside, ready to make sure she didn't walk out alive.

Damon parked.

Without waiting, I flung the door open and ran.