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Letti could hear the music pulsing a mile down the street. The bass vibrated through the cool night air, accompanied by the indistinct buzz of drunken laughter and obnoxious conversations. The setting was unexpected, but unsurprising. She wasn't here for the keg stands or cheap bourbon. She was here to dismantle the chaos—on her own terms.

From the moment the news broke of the dance's relocation to the Lockwood Mansion, Letti knew it was no coincidence. Klaus was behind it all. The markings of his schemes were evident: ever so clever, calculated, and utterly egocentric. But whatever his plan was, the true intrigue of the night wasn't his—it was Letti's.

While Damon and his band of heroes were working with Mikael to put an end to her brother, she would be carrying out her plan in the shadows. Every piece was already on the board. All she needed was to set them in motion. First, the doppelgänger—who Letti already knew to be inside mingling with those around her. The thought of her walking so naively into the web they'd spun for Klaus was amusing, as was the consideration behind the layers of deception everyone believed themselves to have mastered.

The night was sure to be an eventful one, and Letti had every intention of making it so. She'd spent a thousand years trapped in Klaus's shadow, and was finally ready to break free of it. One thing that'd changed in the centuries she'd spent trying to claw her way out, was that now she had the upper hand. And she intended to keep it.

Letti continued her brisk stroll down the street, ignoring passing cars and exuberant teenagers boasting about. She wasn't in a hurry, as the night was sure to be a long one ahead. There was more than enough time to get done what she needed done. For now, it was time for the others to make their mess.

A presence disrupted Letti's thoughts, and her lips pulled into a faint smirk. She could smell the sweet musk of his cologne and the bourbon on his breath. Of course, it was Damon. But again, Letti was not surprised. He had a habit of always finding his way to her.

"And here I thought you would be first in line to watch Klaus meet his demise," Damon teased her, his shoulder brushing against hers as the two walked together down the street. "Yet here you are, fashionably late."

Letti's smirk grew in the slightest as she glanced over at him. "Patience, Salvatore," she said, turning her attention back to the road. She moved with such confidence, such grace, a shadow in the night that left Damon absolutely enthralled as he watched the moonlight dance over her features. "I intend to be at the forefront of it all when it matters. But tell me again—where do you play in all of this?"

Damon shoved his hands into his pockets, his smirk softening into something more cryptic. "Moral support," Damon replied casually, though the edge in his tone betrayed him.

Letti didn't respond immediately, though she didn't need to. She detected another scent among the musk and bourbon—subtle, but present nonetheless. It was a woody smell, one she was all too familiar with. White oak. Damon was hiding something. Something deadly.

Like Letti, Damon had a plan of his own—a plan separate from what had originally been discussed with the remainder of the group. She'd known for days now and had kept it to herself, using his calculated decisions to her own advantage.

Damon being in possession of the white oak stake was nothing she expected, however. He carried it so carelessly, as if it wasn't an unspoken declaration of war. She assumed Mikael had given it to him. Why? She wasn't sure, but she was sure he wouldn't make an attempt to use it on her.

His deception was too clear to ignore, despite his attempt to conceal it. She knew Damon had been part of the plan to get rid of Klaus from the get-go, but Mikael had always been the power play. Mikael was the only one besides Letti herself that was capable of overpowering Klaus, but with the white oak stake, Damon had an advantage, however slight it may be. While Klaus had the strength, Damon had the element of surprise, and Letti hadn't quite calculated which one was worse. She would have to tend to the situation swiftly and quickly. That meant keeping what she knew to herself and acting accordingly.

"I'm sure your support will be appreciated," Letti finally replied, taking a deliberate breath as they approached the gates of the Lockwood Mansion.

Letti's stomach twisted as they passed through the gates, a wave of unease settling over her. It had been years since she last stood face-to-face with her brother, and their last encounter had ended in flames—literally and figuratively. She had spent the aftermath traversing the globe, seeking solace in distant lands and immersing herself in unfamiliar cultures to escape the wreckage he'd left behind. Klaus, ever relentless, had sent his disciples to track her down, but Letti had dealt with them in her own way, compelling each one to count every grain of sand in the tropics of her choosing. It was petty, perhaps, but it allowed her to breathe if only for a moment. With every mile she put between them, she had convinced herself she was better off without him, that she could finally thrive in his absence. Yet, as the weight of the night pressed down on her, she couldn't help but feel the lie in her chest.

"Someone's looking a bit pale," Damon teased, breaking the silence.

Letti glanced at him, her smirk unwavering. "Well, I am dead, after all," she quipped, deflecting with the same nonchalance she'd mastered over centuries.

"Very funny," Damon muttered, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful. He wasn't fooled. Letti was deflecting—just as she always did. He'd spent the past few days trying to find cracks in her armor, but she was relentless. Whatever was brewing beneath that calm exterior, she wouldn't let him see it.

The sight of the sprawling estate illuminated in the soft glow of string lights might have seemed festive to anyone else, but to Letti, it felt suffocating. The air was heavy, charged with power, like an impending storm. Her sharp gaze cut through the crowd of students and locals, landing on the other figures that lurked in the shadows. She recognized them immediately—Klaus's hybrids. Their eyes followed her every movement, wary and unblinking, as if they couldn't quite place the anomaly standing before them.

To them, all hybrids came from Klaus. Letti was an outsider, a shadow of something far older, far more powerful than they could comprehend.

"There are hybrids everywhere," Letti whispered to Damon.

"Yeah, they aren't being very discreet, are they?" Damon chuckled.

Letti's eyes flicked to the mansion's entrance, where the hybrids lingered like sentinels. Their unease was palpable, their loyalty split between wariness and reverence for her uncanny resemblance to their sire. Outsider or not, her confidence was magnetic, her every movement calculated and deliberate, yet there was a shadow of uncertainty lingering at the edges of her mind. Letti was a hybrid, yes, but she was the Original Hybrid—a title that set her apart, even from Klaus.

Damon and Letti approached the main entrance, only to be met by one of Klaus's hybrids.

"Invite only, vampire," the hybrid sneered, his condescending tone laced with a poorly masked authority. Letti raised an amused brow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. She opened her mouth to respond, but Damon beat her to it.

"Here's my RSVP, hybrid," Damon quipped, his fist plunging into the hybrid's chest cavity with one swift motion. Letti didn't even have time to blink before the vampire's heart was ripped clean out. Damon tossed it aside like trash, the hybrid's lifeless body crumpling at his feet.

"You didn't have to kill him," Letti chided, her tone low but sharp, watching the scene with faint irritation as Damon wiped his bloodied hands on the hybrid's jacket.

"I do a lot of things I don't have to do," Damon responded, his signature smirk firmly in place as he gestured toward the now-clear entrance.

Letti rolled her eyes, her irritation simmering just beneath the surface. "Recycling that same, empty apology you used on Mason Lockwood?" she remarked dryly. "You truly are a wonder, Damon Salvatore."

Damon shrugged and headed inside, but Letti lingered purposefully at the threshold. She leaned casually against the doorframe, the faintest smile playing on her lips as her eyes scanned the interior. It was elegant, tasteful—fitting for the Lockwoods. But Letti wasn't here to admire the decor. There was work to be done. And her focus wasn't inside the house but in the chaos outside.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Damon muttered, turning back when he realized Letti hadn't followed him in. She hasn't been invited in, he thought.

Letti offered an indifferent shrug, her gaze still trained on the crowd gathering beyond the windows. "I'll figure out a way in," she replied knowingly, stepping back from the entrance. "Do what you came to do, Damon."

Without waiting for his response, Letti turned on her heel, heading toward the backyard where the party was in full swing. The muffled bass of music grew louder with every step, blending with the chatter and laughter of partygoers. She moved through the crowd like a shadow, her eyes scanning for the one person on her mind: the doppelgänger.

Her focus narrowed as she spotted the cascade of familiar brown hair slipping through the throng of people. Elena—or who she appeared to be—was weaving her way toward an escape. Letti's sharp eyes darted toward the origin of her retreat, locking on Klaus standing tall and proud, a smug expression etched onto his face as he watched the doppelgänger flee. Letti's chest tightened, her breath catching at the sight of her brother. But she pushed the distraction aside. There would be time for Klaus later. Right now, her game was with Elena.

Letti waited until the perfect moment to intercept her. As the doppelgänger brushed past, Letti's hand shot out, gripping her wrist firmly but without aggression. The brunette turned, startled, her wide eyes meeting Letti's with a flash of panic that was quickly masked by an air of composure.

"Leaving so soon, Elena?" Letti asked, her voice smooth and tinged with mockery. She tilted her head slightly, her piercing gaze drilling into the doppelgänger's guarded expression.

Elena stiffened, pulling her wrist free with measured calm. "Just needed some air," she replied quietly.

Letti's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "It's a backyard, Elena. How much air could one possibly need?"

The doppelgänger opened her mouth to respond, but Letti silenced her with a subtle wave of her hand. Without another word, she gestured for Elena to follow, leading her away from the crowd and toward the driveway. The music and laughter faded into the background, replaced by the faint crunch of gravel underfoot and the sound of their breaths.

At the end of the driveway, Elena finally stopped, turning to face Letti with an exasperated sigh. "Care to tell me why you're dragging me out here?"

Letti stopped a few steps ahead of her, turning slowly, her hands slipping into the pockets of her jacket. Her expression was calm, but her eyes betrayed the storm brewing beneath the surface. "I thought we'd have a little chat," she said evenly, her tone deceptively casual. "After all, you of all people know how much I'd love to see my beloved brother suffer."

Elena's brows furrowed slightly, her surprise poorly masked. "That's why you're here, isn't it? To help us kill Klaus?"

Letti didn't answer right away, as it was a question Elena already should've known the answer to. Instead, she let the question hang in the air, her sharp eyes studying Elena's every move. "I saw the two of you talking," she said instead, her voice a careful mix of curiosity and menace. "What did he say to send you running?"

Elena shifted uncomfortably under Letti's gaze, her composure cracking just slightly. "The usual manipulations and threats," she replied. "But I'm sure you know all about that. You've lived it for centuries."

"Indeed, I have," Letti murmured, her eyes narrowing. "But I need you to tell me exactly what he said."

"Why is it so important?" Elena asked, feigning confusion, though Letti could hear the slight waver in her voice.

Letti's patience was fleeting. While her expression remained composed, there was an edge to her tone that made it clear she wouldn't tolerate stalling. "Because it may very well determine who I decide walks away from this," Letti answered coolly, her words slicing through the air like a blade.

Elena blinked, stunned into silence for a moment. Letti stepped closer and pulled her hands from her jacket pockets, letting them hang loose at her sides—ready for anything.

"Time is of the essence, and we're running out. Tell me what he said," Letti demanded, her voice low but brimming with menace. "I'd hate to make you."

The threat was clear in the venom that laced Letti's tone. Elena swallowed hard, the growing lump in her throat becoming unbearable, but she managed to keep her composure—barely. "He threatened Damon," she admitted finally, piquing Letti's interest. "Said his hybrids would kill Damon if anything happened to him."

Letti tilted her head, her expression unreadable as she processed this information. Her blue eyes darkened slightly, and for a moment, the only sound was the distant hum of music drifting from the mansion. This wasn't surprising—she'd always known Klaus had contingencies in place. But hearing Damon's name attached to them unsettled her more than she was willing to admit.

She inhaled deeply, calming the flicker of emotion that threatened to rise. No distractions. Letti's plan was already in motion, and she wouldn't let Klaus derail her resolve—not this time.

"You're going to fix this," Letti said simply, her voice a deceptive calm. She met Elena's gaze, her expression unrelenting. "Find Stefan for me."

Elena's brows furrowed, and she let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "You're joking, right? I don't know if you've noticed, but Stefan couldn't care less whether Damon lives or dies right now. His humanity's off, remember? He's a lost cause."

And just like that, Letti's patience had wore out its welcome. In one swift, fluid motion, she closed the distance between them and grabbed Elena by the throat, shoving her against the rough brick wall. Elena let out a choked gasp, her hands instinctively flying up to claw at Letti's iron grip, but it was no use. Letti was far too strong.

"You don't seem to understand your position here, Katerina," Letti hissed, her voice dripping with venom as she deliberately used the doppelgänger's true name. Her glowing golden eyes bore into the doppelgänger's, silencing whatever feeble excuse she might've conjured. "If I don't get what I want at the end of the night, the only dead end will be you."

Katherine's breath hitched as she realized Letti wasn't bluffing. The cold calculation in Letti's gaze was enough to chill her to the bone, and for the first time in centuries, Katherine felt genuinely powerless.

Letti loosened her grip just enough for Katherine to speak. "Fine," Katherine rasped, her voice hoarse but laced with defiance. "I'll find him. But if this backfires—"

"If this backfires," Letti interrupted, leaning in closer, her lips curving into a dark, humorless smile, "You'll beg for your centuries of running. They'll seem like paradise compared to what I'll do to you."

Her voice dropped lower, colder, as she straightened and loomed over Katherine. "Now, be a good little doppelgänger and go."

She released Katherine abruptly, stepping back and watching as she stumbled slightly over her feet, catching herself against the wall. Katherine's hand flew to her throat, rubbing the red marks Letti's fingers had left behind. She hesitated for a moment, her dark eyes flicking back to Letti, as if weighing the risk of defying her.

Letti raised a brow, daring her to make the wrong choice.

Katherine huffed, straightening her posture. Without another word, she turned and disappeared into the shadows, her footsteps echoing down the road. Letti watched her go, her expression cool and unreadable.

Letti's fingers flexed at her sides, a flicker of unease slipping through her mask of control. The mention of Damon's life being threatened stirred something inside her she wasn't quite ready to name. She exhaled sharply, forcing the thought away.

After a brief moment of quiet—a fleeting respite before the chaos of the night descended—Letti decided it was time. The time had come to step back into the fray, to face what she had long avoided. After so many years, she would finally see her brother again. But first, she required something strong to steady the nerves she so valiantly fought to suppress.

Letti strolled down the long driveway, her every step deliberate, her every movement imbued with purpose. There was a quiet power in her stride, a commanding presence that seemed to part the crowd instinctively, as though they recognized the shadow of something ancient and untamed. She reached the grand entrance of the Lockwood Mansion, her smirk as sharp as the heels that clicked against the polished steps.

The moment she learned the dance had been relocated to the mansion, Letti sought out Carol Lockwood and wasted no time compelling the mayor to allow her inside. It had been laughably easy. Letti found it ironic that the mayor of a town teeming with vampires hadn't bothered to take precautions against compulsion. She suspected this carelessness wasn't entirely Carol's fault—it reeked of Klaus's handiwork. A scheme, no doubt, meant to ensure his hybrids could roam freely without interference. For once, his scheming had proven convenient rather than a hindrance. Letti allowed herself a small, bitter smile at the thought as she stepped inside.

The house was alive with energy, music reverberating through the air and blending with the chatter of Mystic Falls' finest. But Letti barely noticed. Her focus was singular, her purpose clear. This wasn't just a reunion—it was the beginning of retribution. And with every deliberate step through the house, her resolve hardened, though a flicker of unease still lingered, gnawing at the edges of her mind.

Letti soon located the Lockwood stash of bourbon and poured herself a drink with practiced ease. The amber liquid glistened in her glass as she tilted it thoughtfully before taking a slow sip, savoring the sharp warmth that burned down her throat. A faint smile curled her lips as she left the dimly lit study, the sound of distant chatter and music growing louder as she reentered the mansion's lively halls.

Just as she stepped into the corridor, she collided with someone. Her reflexes were quick, her drink tilting but not spilling as she caught herself. "My apologies," Letti murmured smoothly, but the moment her eyes met those of the person whose path she'd disrupted, her expression shifted to mild amusement.

It wasn't a random partygoer. It was Bonnie Bennett—Elena's fiercely loyal little witch. Letti's smile deepened, the cogs in her mind turning. She knew who Bonnie was, of course. The witch would be indispensable in the days to come, whether willingly or not.

Bonnie, however, was at a loss. Her brow furrowed as she looked at the striking woman before her. Something about Letti's presence weighed heavily on her senses, a creeping darkness that sent a chill racing down her spine. Bonnie had never met her before, yet there was an unsettling familiarity that tugged at the edges of her consciousness.

"Who are you?" Bonnie asked, her voice edged with suspicion as she narrowed her eyes, trying to unravel the enigma standing before her.

Letti leaned in close, her lips hovering just near Bonnie's ear as she whispered, "You'll know soon enough, little witch." Her tone was low and laced with quiet menace, sending another shiver down Bonnie's spine.

Without waiting for a reply, Letti stepped back and strolled away, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor as she disappeared into the crowd. Bonnie stood frozen for a moment, her breath catching as the lingering presence of Letti's darkness refused to fade.

Letti moved effortlessly through the throng of people, her every step deliberate as she sipped her drink. Her goal was clear, her focus singular. She was hunting, and her quarry was the man of the hour: Niklaus.

She finally stepped out into the night, the cool breeze teasing strands of her hair as she leaned casually against the doorframe. The party was alive with music, drunken laughter, and the chaotic revelry of Mystic Falls' youth, but Letti's sharp blue eyes were fixed on the crowd with purpose. Her gaze swept over the sea of faces, none of them familiar, though she assumed Damon and his merry band of heroes were scattered about, busying themselves with their doomed little plot.

And then she saw him.

The familiar crown of dirty blond hair that matched her own, the commanding posture, the unmistakable smile that could charm or terrify with equal ease—it was him. Niklaus stood amongst the crowd, mingling with his hybrids and indulging the sycophantic mortals who dared to vie for his attention. His smugness was palpable, his laughter carrying on the breeze. Letti's grip tightened on her glass as she studied him, the faintest curl of her lips betraying her satisfaction.

She watched as a subtle shift came over him. Klaus's body stiffened slightly, his laughter fading as his gaze flickered, searching. He had felt it—that weight, that prickling sensation of being watched by something, someone. His eyes roved the crowd before locking onto hers.

The world around Klaus seemed to fall away the moment he saw her. Letti stood poised, her silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of the party lights, her expression unreadable. Her blue eyes were sharp and unrelenting, holding his gaze without flinching. Slowly, she raised her glass to him in a silent toast, the faintest smirk gracing her lips as she sipped her bourbon.

Klaus's smug demeanor melted into something more complex, his features softening with a mixture of disbelief, caution, and something dangerously close to hope. His little sister. The one he hadn't seen in years, the one he'd followed halfway across the globe only to lose time and again. She was here.

Shoving through the throng of guests and hybrids without care, Klaus made his way toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. Letti remained where she stood, her gaze unwavering, as if daring him to close the distance. As he drew nearer, her smirk grew imperceptibly, her fingers curling ever so slightly around the glass in her hand.

Whatever games were about to unfold, Letti was more than ready to play.

"Sister," Klaus greeted, his voice deceptively light but tinged with a subtle apprehension that betrayed his carefully constructed facade. To see her again, here of all places, was something he hadn't dared imagine. The sight of her standing before him now—calm, poised, unreadable—stirred a mixture of elation and unease deep within him.

"Hello, Niklaus," Letti replied, her tone as indifferent as the look in her eyes. She raised her glass to her lips, sipping slowly as she watched him. Every flicker of his expression, every shift in his stance was noted, cataloged. Outwardly, she was the epitome of composure, but inside, the dam of carefully buried emotions cracked under the weight of his gaze. "It's been quite a few years, has it not?"

Klaus's jaw tensed for a fleeting moment. Her nonchalance needled him, but he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Indeed it has," he replied, his smirk returning with practiced ease. "Though I must say, this is the last place I expected to find you—here, among my enemies."

"Is that meant to be an accusation?" Letti asked, tilting her head slightly, her curiosity feigned but her gaze piercing.

"An observation, if you will," Klaus quipped, his smirk widening as he stepped closer, testing the waters of their reunion.

Letti leaned in, closing the already narrow distance between them, the scent of bourbon on her breath mingling with the tension crackling in the air. Her voice dropped to a near whisper, but the steel beneath her words was unmistakable. "I've made quite a few observations myself, brother," she began, her blue eyes boring into his. "I've spent months watching you make mess after mess, leaving trails of chaos and blood in your wake. Your precious hybrids, loyalty bred from another's suffering, while you betray your own blood without hesitation."

Klaus froze, her words landing with the weight of a thousand accusations. His confident facade faltered briefly, his expression darkening. "You've been this close? This entire time..." he murmured, the realization settling uncomfortably in his chest. His twin, his other half, had been hiding in the shadows, watching him as he carried out his plans. Plans he now knew she had not approved of.

"Close enough," Letti confirmed, her lips curving into a faint, humorless smile. "Close enough to see just how blinded you've been by your delusions of grandeur. The great Niklaus Mikaelson, so consumed by his own schemes that he never noticed the silhouette of his own sister, standing just beyond the reach of light."

Her words stung more than Klaus was willing to admit, and his expression betrayed a flicker of vulnerability before his smirk returned, this time sharper, edged with a defensiveness he couldn't entirely mask. "And yet, here you are," he said, his voice quieter now, though it carried a dangerous undertone. "Come to lecture me, or is there something more you're after?"

Letti's smile deepened, but it was a cold thing, void of the warmth they once shared. "What I'm after, Niklaus, is simple. Retribution," she said, her tone as steady as the hand holding her drink. "But don't worry, dear brother. You'll find out soon enough what that entails."

Klaus's smirk faltered again, uncertainty flickering in his eyes as he searched hers for answers he couldn't find. For the first time in centuries, he felt as though he was standing on unstable ground, facing not just his sister but a force he couldn't predict.

Letti raised her glass once more, the smirk on her lips never faltering as she pulled back just enough to turn away. "Enjoy the party, Niklaus," she said over her shoulder, her voice light but carrying an unmistakable edge. "It might be your last chance to do so."

Klaus stood rooted to the spot, his emotions warring within him. Love, anger, longing, and suspicion churned together in a storm he couldn't control. One thing was certain—Letti wasn't here for a simple reunion, and whatever she had planned, he wasn't sure he could stop it.

Letti left Klaus standing outside, his eyes boring into her back as she walked away without sparing him another glance. She moved with purpose, heading directly for the Lockwood study, her mind spinning with the night's unfolding chaos. The party outside was winding down, but the tension in the air was as sharp as ever. Klaus's hybrids patrolled the mansion like sentinels, their sharp eyes following Letti as she passed. She paid them no attention, keeping her head high and her expression cool, her focus locked on the inevitable showdown ahead.

She poured herself another drink from the Lockwood bourbon stash, the sharp clink of glass against the decanter echoing in the quiet room. Raising the glass to her lips, she allowed the bourbon's fiery warmth to dull the storm of emotions within her.

As Letti stood in the study, sipping her drink, the quiet was shattered by the distant sound of voices—Klaus and Mikael. Their words sliced through the air like knives, Mikael's venomous taunts cutting just as deeply into Letti as they did into her brother. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to remain still, waiting for the right moment. Her original plan had taken a sharp turn when Klaus's threat to Damon had come to light, but Letti was a master of adaptation.

And then, amidst the cacophony of Mikael's tirade, she heard Katherine's desperate voice at the door. The doppelgänger's fear was palpable, but Letti knew better. Katherine's role in this plan was vital, and it was time to make her move.

Letti stepped into the fray with the measured grace of a predator. "Go ahead, Father," she said coolly, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Kill her. Prove yourself the monster you've always been."

Mikael's smirk widened as his eyes swept over the twins, standing side by side as they had for centuries. To him, they were abominations, two of his greatest disgraces. And now, they were exactly where he wanted them. There was a cruel poetry to it—born together, so it was only fitting they should die together. While his recent days had been spent orchestrating Klaus's demise, Mikael had been just as meticulous in plotting Letti's downfall. To him, one could not fall without the other.

Of course, he had kept this part of his plan to himself. Not even Damon, his unlikely co-conspirator, had any idea of Mikael's full intentions. The Salvatore brother had developed a baffling soft spot for Letti, one Mikael viewed as a weakness he could exploit.

Though Mikael had entrusted Damon with the white oak stake, he had a contingency plan. There was another stake, hidden in plain sight. He'd handed it off to one of Klaus's compelled hybrids, with explicit orders: the moment Klaus was dealt with, Letti would follow. A single thrust through her heart would ensure neither of his abominations would leave this night alive.

"If she dies, this lot will be the last of your abominations," Mikael sneered, his gaze shifting coldly to Klaus. "The only one left to share in the burden of your vile existence is your sister."

Letti took a deliberate step forward, her anger simmering beneath her calm exterior, ready to silence Mikael for good. But before she could move further, Klaus's arm shot out, blocking her path. The protective instinct he would never be able to fully suppress surged, and he tightened his grip on her just slightly, his hand pressing against her arm with the kind of force that betrayed his desperate need to shield her from their father.

"Then kill her, Mikael," Klaus spat, his voice strained but defiant. He held Letti in place, his tone daring their father to take the next step. "I don't need them. All I need is to be rid of you."

"To what end, Niklaus?" Mikael chuckled darkly, his gaze flashing between the twins. "So you can live forever with no one by your side? Nobody cares about you anymore, boy. Not even Nikoleta. Your beloved twin sister jumped at the opportunity to watch you die tonight."

Letti's breath caught in her throat, her angry blue eyes locked on Mikael with a seething intensity. Klaus's tear-filled gaze slid away from his father and found her instead. The hurt in his eyes cut deeper than any wound, the weight of his father's words making the air between them feel suffocating.

Klaus couldn't help but be shaken by Mikael's claim. He'd spent centuries trying to convince himself that, despite their many disagreements, Letti would never want him dead. That she was still, in some corner of her heart, his sister. But as Mikael's words sank in, he found himself questioning everything. For a fleeting moment, Klaus believed Mikael might be right—that maybe, just maybe, his sister was truly a part of the plan to take him down. His heart twisted in turmoil, every instinct warning him that the bond they shared could be frayed beyond repair.

But Mikael was wrong. Letti wasn't there to watch Klaus die. It was the furthest thing from her mind. What she wanted—what she'd longed for—was to see him suffer for the centuries of agony he'd caused her. That was the truth she had yet to confront, even with her heart aching in the process. But in this moment, Letti's focus had shifted. She had a different target in mind.

"Who else do you have, Niklaus?" Mikael continued his verbal onslaught, drawing Klaus's attention back to him. "Other than those whose loyalty you've forced?"

Letti's eyes narrowed, lips curling into a knowing, bitter smile. She knew this game all too well. "No one," Mikael finished, his words final.

"I'm calling your bluff, father," Klaus said, his voice tight with emotion, barely masking the turmoil brewing beneath his calm exterior. He slowly released his protective grip on Letti, preparing himself for whatever came next. "Kill her."

Mikael's lips twisted into a cruel smile. "Come outside and face me, you little coward," he sneered. "And I won't have to."

Letti's eyes flashed briefly to Katherine, who stood nearby, her expression one of feigned fear, though her posture shown no real terror. As Mikael and Klaus continued their bitter exchange, Letti caught Katherine's subtle nod—small, but unmistakable. It was confirmation. Confirmation that their plan was still on track, moving precisely as it was meant to, even if the gesture was a mere whisper in the chaos.

Before Letti could respond, Mikael struck, driving a blade into Katherine's back with a swiftness that startled even Letti. Katherine crumpled to the floor with a pained gasp, and Klaus's shock was evident with the belief Mikael had killed Elena. But Letti didn't flinch. She knew the truth. Katherine's game was far from over.

The sound of rapid footsteps drew Letti's attention, and her instincts flared. Damon was closing in fast, but so was something—or someone—else. Letti barely had time to react before one of Klaus's hybrids lunged at her, a white oak stake gleaming in his hand. She twisted at the last moment, but pain exploded in her chest as the stake grazed dangerously close to her heart. A scream ripped from her throat. She collapsed, clutching the stake, desperate to keep it from sinking deeper.

The world blurred around her, but she could hear Klaus shouting her name, his voice raw with panic. The hybrid who'd attacked her disappeared as quickly as he'd come, leaving Letti writhing in agony. Her grip on the stake faltered as darkness began to creep in at the edges of her vision.

Damon, momentarily distracted by Letti's injury, was suddenly tackled to the ground by Stefan. The brief chaos provided Klaus with the opening he needed, and with a swift motion, he drove the white oak stake into Mikael's heart.

Stunned by his brother's unexpected actions, Damon immediately shot up, his voice thick with confusion. "What the hell did you do, Stefan?" he demanded, his gaze shifting between his brother and the crumpled body of Mikael.

But Letti was too consumed by the agonizing pain to pay them any attention. Her eyes blurred with tears, burning with the intensity of the pain that wracked her body. She would have taken any other stake to the heart over this, the searing pain of the white oak creeping through her veins, inching toward her heart with each passing second. Her grip on the stake was the only thing keeping her from succumbing to death, but it was slipping, and with it, her consciousness.

Klaus's focus snapped back to his sister after giving Stefan back the freedom he'd been promised, and he rushed over to her side. Katherine had already disappeared, escaping the chaos, and Damon—torn between helping Letti and avoiding a slow, painful death at Klaus's hands—fled the scene with Stefan right behind him. Klaus knelt at Letti's side, his hand hovering over the stake, as if contemplating whether to pull it out. He hesitated, his mind swirling with what Mikael had said just moments before. His face was a mask of conflict, torn between his anger at her supposed betrayal and the visceral need to save her. Should he remove it? Should he save her, or was this exactly what she had wanted for him?

"Does it hurt, sister?" he asked softly, his voice thick with both malice and desperation.

Letti growled through clenched teeth, her eyes blazing with defiance. "Letting you die was never an option, Niklaus," she spat, her voice trembling with pain. "But I needed him to believe it was."

Klaus hesitated, searching her eyes for the truth. Her words struck something deep within him, cutting through the layers of anger and mistrust. Finally, he gripped the stake and pulled it free with a single, decisive motion. Letti gasped as relief flooded her body, her hand clutching the wound as it began to heal.

"If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead," she murmured, turning her head to meet his eyes.

Klaus chuckled darkly, his expression guarded but undeniably shaken. "Then I suppose I should thank you for your mercy," he said, though his tone betrayed his disbelief.

Letti sat up slowly, testing her strength as she pushed past the lingering pain. She met Klaus's gaze with a smirk, her expression colder now, more calculated. "You should thank me," she said, her voice low and deliberate.

Before Klaus could respond, Letti moved like lightning, snapping his neck with a fluid motion. His body crumpled to the ground, and Letti stood over him, her eyes blazing with a mix of triumph and sorrow.

"But you may just wish you were dead whenever I'm finished with you," she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of her resolve.

She bent down to retrieve the white oak stake, tucking it into her jacket before hauling Klaus's unconscious body over her shoulder. Her heels clicked against the floor as she strode out of the mansion, her movements steady despite the chaos she left behind.

As she passed Mikael's charred corpse, a smirk tugged at her lips. The night hadn't gone perfectly, but it had gone well enough. Letti had what she needed.

The game had only just begun.