Chapter 60

CHAPTER — DAMON POV

The Bennett boy hit the ground hard, a messy tangle of limbs and confusion, and for a second I thought he might snap out of whatever trance had crawled inside his skull. One blink. Two. Then he scrambled backward like a terrified deer, eyes wide, chest heaving, mumbling apologies under his breath.

I didn’t bother stopping him. If a Bennett wanted to run, I’d let him. It saved me the trouble.

My focus was on her.

Elizabeth stood frozen, breath shaky, her hand still hovering where his fingers had clamped onto her arm. Fear clung to her like perfume — cold, sharp, and something I hated seeing in her. When her eyes lifted to mine, I felt the tension in her ease, just slightly. Just enough.

“Are you okay?” I asked. And yes, I tried to sound casual — sue me — but she was still shaking.

She nodded even though it was a lie.

“Good,” I said, stepping between her and the direction the Bennett boy had gone. “Because you’re not walking home after that.”

“I wasn’t—” she started.

“Not a debate.” I tilted my head toward the street. “Come on.”

And of course, she huffed. Because Elizabeth never just listens. She argues, and fires back, and rolls her eyes like the world’s most dramatic teenager. But she walked with me. Even angry, she knew better than to be alone in the dark after a witch-possessed sleepwalker nearly chanted a prophecy into her soul.

The car ride was… quiet. Painfully quiet. And she was mad — obviously mad — staring out the window like I’d kidnapped her instead of saved her from a half-naked, prophecy-spouting Bennett.

Normally, someone’s anger was an excellent source of entertainment for me. But hers… yeah. Hers felt different. A small, irritating pinch under the ribs.

“You can stop glaring at the window,” I finally said. “It didn’t do anything.”

“I’m not glaring,” she muttered.

“Liar.”

Silence again.

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, the French Quarter streets passing in blurry streaks of gold and shadow. “If this is about Chloe,” I began, “it’s not my fault she’s going through… whatever dramatic spiral she’s in. She’s a new vampire. It sucks at first, but she’ll stabilize. Eventually.”

Elizabeth’s jaw clenched. “She hates what she’s become.”

“She’ll adjust.”

“She shouldn’t have to,” she shot back, voice tight. "You shouldn’t have come here. She would’ve been fine. We all would’ve been fine.”

And there it was — the accusation she’d been holding in. The frustration, the confusion, the fear. I’d seen it a million times. Humans loved blaming vampires for anything unpleasant in their lives. I usually enjoyed being the villain, the easy target. But hearing it from her?

Annoying. It bothered me more than it should.

“Right,” I said. “Because you definitely have everything figured out.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Really?” I glanced at her. “Because it sounds like you’re blaming every supernatural creature in this city for the consequences of your choices.”

She looked stunned. Then offended. “My choices?”

“Mm-hmm.”

The car slowed as I pulled up outside her house. I put it in park, turned to her fully.

“Stop blaming everyone else when you already know deep down your friends would’ve been fine if you had stayed where you belonged.”

The words struck her — I saw it. A hit she didn’t expect. Her brows pinched together, confusion flickering through them before it softened into something sadder. Something that actually made me regret speaking. For half a second.

But I held it in.

Truth is truth. And someone had to say it.

She swallowed, eyes shiny with emotions she didn’t want me to see. “What does that even mean?” she whispered.

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t—because if I did, I’d say too much. I’d tell her that ever since she’d crashed into my life like a walking disaster, the universe had been bending toward her. Pulling her closer to the supernatural world she kept running from. And I couldn’t let her see all that written on my face.

So instead, I looked away.

“It means what it means,” I said lightly. “Go inside, Elizabeth.”

She opened the door slowly, like her limbs were heavier than they should be. She stepped out, hesitated, then shut the door gently behind her.

I watched her walk up the path — shoulders slumped, head down — and something twisted in my chest. Something annoyingly close to guilt.

I rolled my eyes at myself.

“Great,” I muttered. “Now I’m catching feelings.”

I drove off before I could do something stupid like call her back.

When I reached the French Quarter compound, the scent of old paper and antique ink hit me even before I stepped inside. Elijah was already standing in the center of the living room, sleeves rolled up, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose like he was starring in some supernatural academic photoshoot.

The table was covered in old documents — torn, browned with age, written in languages that even I didn’t care to decipher.

“Long night?” he asked without looking up.

“You could say that.” I slid onto the couch with a sigh. “A Bennett twin tried performing a prophecy in Elizabeth’s face.”

Elijah’s head snapped up. “A prophecy?”

“Yeah.” I stretched my legs out. “Something about a ‘key’ and ‘not letting them in.’ Lots of chanting. Very dramatic. Very annoying.”

Elijah didn’t react immediately.

Instead, he went still.

Too still.

“Don’t tell me you know something,” I said.

He pressed his lips together, eyes narrowing at one of the old papers. “I hoped I was mistaken.”

“Well that’s comforting.”

“Damon.” He turned toward me, expression serious. “If what he said is true… Elizabeth may be more important than we realized.”

I snorted. “She’s a trouble magnet with anger issues. Important isn’t the word I’d use.”

“I’m not talking about personality.” His voice dropped lower. “I’m talking about history.”

I raised a brow. “Enlighten me.”

Elijah exhaled slowly and pulled one of the oldest sheets closer.

“The last time someone was called ‘the Key,’” he began, “they were hunted. By every supernatural faction across the continent.”

“Well that sounds fun.”

“The Key is believed to be the bridge,” he continued, ignoring my sarcasm. “A being capable of opening the barrier between this world and the realms beyond it.”

I sat up straighter. “Realms.”

“Yes.”

“Plural.”

“Yes, Damon. Plural.”

Great. Because this day wasn’t stressful enough already.

“And if she is this… Key,” Elijah added quietly, “everyone will want to use her. Witches. Werewolves. Vampires. Creatures you and I haven’t seen in centuries.”

My jaw tightened.

Images flashed in my mind — Elizabeth cornered, terrified, someone grabbing her the way that Bennett boy did earlier. Her voice shaking. Her eyes wide.

And I hated it.

“She didn’t ask for any of this,” I muttered.

“No Key ever has,” Elijah said. “Which is why they rarely survive long once discovered.”

Well. That did wonders for my mood.

Elijah looked at me knowingly. “You care for her.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

I glared, but he only folded his arms in that annoyingly calm Original-vampire way.

“My brother,” he said softly, “you’ve spent weeks avoiding your mate. Ignoring her. Pretending she does not affect you.”

“She doesn’t,” I lied.

“But fate,” Elijah said with a small, knowing smile, “has a way of pulling two people together no matter how hard one of them tries to run.”

I looked away.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

Elizabeth was chaos wrapped in stubbornness, wrapped in danger, wrapped in something I couldn’t quite ignore. No matter how badly I wanted to.

“She’s the last thing I need to worry about right now,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Perhaps,” Elijah replied. “But she may be the first thing you should.”

I leaned back, staring at the old ceiling, letting the weight of everything sink in.

The Bennett prophecy.

The Key.

Elizabeth.

Her fear.

Her anger.

Her sadness outside the car.

And the truth:

Trouble followed her like a shadow.

And apparently, I was becoming part of that trouble whether I liked it or not.

“Fine,” I said finally. “What do we do?”

Elijah gave a single, slow nod, like he’d been waiting for me to ask.

“We find out,” he said, “whether she truly is the Key.”

“Before someone else does,” I finished.

“Exactly.”

I sighed deeply.

“Fantastic,” I muttered. “Just what I needed.”