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The Grill was unusually quiet the next morning, the sunlight filtering through the windows and casting long, golden shadows across the tables. Letti sat alone in the far corner of the restaurant, her posture deceptively composed as she absently swirled the bourbon in her glass. The amber liquid caught the light, but it did little to warm the ache that had settled deep in her chest. This was her second drink, despite her better judgment, and it did nothing to quiet the relentless storm in her mind.

Though exhaustion weighed heavy in her limbs, Letti hadn't slept. She hadn't eaten. Instead, she'd slipped out of Damon's bed in the early hours of the morning, leaving behind the fleeting comfort of his mere presence. The night had felt too vivid, too raw, and she'd spent the dark hours pacing the forest, her emotions clawing at her like restless phantoms. By the time dawn broke, she'd given in to the familiar solace of alcohol. But the bourbon, warm and familiar, offered no escape. Not from this.

Her lips tingled with the memory of Damon's kiss, the ghost of it lingering with every heartbeat. She could still feel the way his arms had wrapped around her, steady and sure, holding her like she was something fragile yet unyielding. It had been intoxicating, terrifying, and above all, something she hadn't allowed herself to feel in centuries. It wasn't wrong—not in the way her mind tried to convince her. It was dangerous. For both of them.

She hated herself for it. For letting him in. For letting herself feel. For kissing him.

What had she been thinking? Letting her guard down like that? With Damon, of all people? He was reckless, impulsive, and utterly infuriating. But beneath all of that, he was steady in a way she hadn't expected. His presence grounded her when her world threatened to spin out of control, tethering her to a part of herself she'd thought long lost. And that, more than anything, terrified her. Because the more she leaned into him, the more she craved it.

Letti sighed heavily, setting her glass down and pinching the bridge of her nose as if she could press the thoughts away. It was a mistake, she reminded herself—a fleeting moment of weakness fueled by bourbon and exhaustion. A lapse in judgment, nothing more. She would fix this. She had to.

She couldn't afford to let herself feel—not now. Not with Klaus lurking in the shadows, ready to destroy anything she dared to care about. That was the nature of her brother: if it mattered to her, it became a weapon for him to wield, a weakness he would exploit without hesitation. And Damon...Damon would be no exception.

Her chest tightened at the thought, a pang of something dangerously close to guilt slicing through her resolve. No matter how much she'd already begun to want him, she couldn't allow it. Couldn't allow herself to put him in Klaus's crosshairs. It didn't matter how steady he made her feel. Letti had been down this road before, and it had only ever ended in ruin.

The sound of the Grill's door opening barely registered, but the faint scent of leather and bourbon drifted toward her, sending an unwelcome chill down her spine. Letti stiffened, her grip tightening around her glass as the familiar weight of his presence settled across the room. She didn't need to look up to confirm it—it was Damon.

He crossed the room with his usual confident ease, sliding into the booth across from her like he belonged there. For a moment, he didn't say anything, just flagged down the bartender with a nod and ordered his drink. The silence between them was thick, crackling with the tension left over from the night before.

"Starting early, huh?" Damon finally said, breaking the quiet. His tone was light, almost teasing, but there was a sharpness underneath that Letti couldn't ignore.

She didn't respond right away, keeping her eyes fixed on the swirling bourbon in her glass. "What can I say? It's been a rough morning," she replied flatly, her voice steady but edged with something darker. Anger simmered just beneath the surface—not at Damon, but at herself, though she doubted he'd notice the difference.

"Yeah, I can imagine," Damon said, his voice softer now. He leaned back in the booth, his sharp eyes never leaving her as she stared resolutely into her drink. "Considering what happened last night."

Letti's grip on her glass tightened. Her jaw clenched, but she didn't lift her gaze. "Last night was a mistake," she said bluntly, the words tumbling out faster than she intended. They sounded hollow even to her, a brittle defense she wasn't sure she believed. She took a long sip of bourbon, hoping the burn would distract her from the ache blooming in her chest.

Damon's expression darkened, his brows knitting together as he leaned forward, his hand wrapping around the glass the bartender had placed in front of him. "A mistake?" he echoed, his tone low, tinged with incredulity. "That's what we're calling it now?"

"Yes," Letti snapped, her voice cutting through the tension as she finally looked up at him. Her blue eyes burned with a mixture of anger and guilt, both directed at herself. "It shouldn't have happened, and it can't happen again."

Damon didn't flinch. He leaned forward, his piercing gaze locked onto hers, unrelenting. "Why not?" he asked, his tone calm but with an edge of challenge.

Letti faltered, the question hitting a nerve she didn't want to confront. She turned her focus back to her drink, swirling the bourbon as if it held the answer. "You were the one that walked out last night, Damon," she reminded him, her voice softer but no less sharp. She thought back to the moment he left her alone in his room, the frustration etched across his face. She had wanted to call him back, to beg him to stay, but the words had stuck in her throat. "Why does it matter to you why it can't happen again?" she asked quietly, almost to herself.

"Because it wasn't a mistake to me, Letti," Damon said, his voice steady but tinged with something raw, almost pleading. There was a subtle desperation in his tone, one that pierced through Letti's defenses like a blade.

She swallowed hard, her grip tightening on the glass. She didn't want to hear this—not from him. Not now. "Damon—"

"It wasn't a mistake," he interrupted, his voice firm as he leaned closer. His eyes softened, but the intensity in them didn't waver. "Not to me. Not even for a second."

"It doesn't matter," Letti said sharply, finishing off her drink in one swift gulp. The warmth of the bourbon did little to steady her nerves, but it gave her something to focus on other than the intensity of Damon's gaze. She considered ordering another, but the thought of sitting here under his scrutiny for one more second made her chest tighten. "I was drunk, Damon. People do stupid things when they're drunk."

"You weren't that drunk," Damon shot back, his tone calm but edged with irritation. His sharp eyes bore into her, cutting through her defenses. "You knew exactly what you were doing."

Letti stiffened, her grip tightening around the empty glass. His words struck a nerve, the truth behind them unraveling the fragile control she clung to. "What do you want from me, Damon?" she asked, her voice rising as frustration bubbled to the surface. She set the glass down harder than she intended, her knuckles brushing against the wood of the table. "An apology? Some kind of confession? Because you're not getting one."

Damon leaned forward, his jaw tightening as he stared at her. "I don't want an apology," he said evenly, though his voice carried a weight that made her flinch. "And I don't need a confession, either. I already know how you feel, Letti. You're just too damn stubborn to admit it."

Letti's breath hitched, her chest tightening as Damon's words cut through her defenses like a knife. For a moment, she couldn't find the words to respond. Her gaze flickered to his, and what she saw in his expression—the raw, unflinching honesty—terrified her. It was the same vulnerability she'd felt the night before, the same unshakable intensity that had unraveled her completely.

"I can't give you what you want," she whispered finally, her voice so faint it was almost swallowed by the tense silence between them.

Damon didn't flinch. If anything, he leaned closer, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. "Because you're scared of your brother?" he asked, his voice softer now but still carrying that unwavering intensity.

Her hands trembled slightly as she set her empty glass down, the faint clink against the table betraying her composure. She took a steadying breath, trying to will her emotions back under control. She couldn't let him in—not again. She couldn't afford to.

"It doesn't matter," she said, her voice firmer this time, though it still wavered at the edges. She met his gaze, forcing herself to hold it even as her chest ached. "Last night was a mistake."

Damon exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. His piercing gaze never left her, though his expression shifted into something softer—something unreadable, yet heavy with understanding. "You can keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better," he said quietly, his tone void of its usual edge. "But we both know it's not true."

Letti's heart clenched at his words, her chest tightening as if the weight of his gaze was pressing down on her. She turned her face away, focusing on the glass in front of her as if it held the answers she so desperately sought. "You're wasting your time, Damon," she said finally, her voice colder and sharper than she intended. "Just...stay away from me. Please."

The quiet plea in her voice betrayed her resolve, but she didn't dare meet his eyes to see if he caught it. She couldn't face him—not now, not with the way her emotions were unraveling.

Damon remained silent for a long moment, the tension between them thick and suffocating. Finally, he reached for his drink, taking a slow, deliberate sip before setting the glass down with a muted clink. "You can push me away all you want," he said, his voice calm but unyielding, laced with a quiet intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "But don't pretend it's because you don't feel anything. I see through you, Letti. I see you—and I think that scares the hell out of you."

Her breath hitched, and she clenched her jaw, refusing to meet his eyes. She knew he was right, knew he could see the truth she was trying so hard to bury. But admitting it—acknowledging it—felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring into the abyss of everything she'd fought so hard to protect herself from.

Damon sighed, standing from the booth and tossing a bill onto the table. His gaze lingered on Letti for a moment, his frustration tempered by something softer—something undeniable. Leaning down, he brought his lips close to her ear, his voice low but steady. "I'm not gonna let this go, Letti."

His words sent a shiver down her spine, and before she could muster a response, he straightened and walked away. Letti watched him go, his confident stride carrying him out the door and leaving her with the weight of his words and the storm of emotions she couldn't seem to control. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her empty glass as she stared into it, her mind racing and her heart pounding. She hated how right he was—hated how much she wanted to chase after him.

But she couldn't.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the quiet of the Grill seemed to press down on her. Letti's thoughts were a chaotic tangle, each one pulling her in a different direction, none offering relief. She pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled sharply, trying to regain some semblance of control.

Her attempt at solitude, however, was short-lived. A faint shift in the air made her shoulders tense, and when she looked up from her glass, she found Klaus seated across from her. His posture was relaxed, one arm draped over the back of the booth, but his expression was anything but. His scowl was sharp, his blue eyes cold and unrelenting, a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

"I figured I'd find you here," Klaus said, his tone carrying its usual edge of smugness.

"Well, I've nowhere else to go," Letti replied, her gaze fixed on the glass in her hand. Her voice was calm, but there was a faint, telltale waver—subtle enough to escape most, but not Klaus. He tilted his head, studying her carefully. The storm brewing in her eyes betrayed more than her tone ever could. He wondered if their heated exchange the day before was to blame for her current state, but he couldn't have known that it was barely a ripple in the sea of her turmoil.

"Still brooding over our little spat yesterday?" Klaus asked, his words dripping with mock amusement. A flicker of a smirk played on his lips, but Letti didn't look up. His attempt at humor grated against her nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

Her grip on her glass tightened, the tension evident in the way her knuckles whitened. She took a deep breath, willing herself to keep her composure. "Go away, Niklaus," she said, her voice steady but cold, the sharp edge of her words a warning in itself.

"Have you forgotten that we have work to do, or do you just intend to sit here by your lonesome and sulk?" Klaus asked, his exasperation dripping from every word. "I mean, really, it's pathetic, darling."

Letti closed her eyes briefly, her grip tightening around the glass. She didn't bother responding to his insult, knowing it would only fuel his relentless ego. Instead, she let out a measured breath, set her glass on the table, and stood. Without a word or a glance in his direction, she walked out of the Grill, her steps sharp and deliberate.

She didn't need to look back to know Klaus would follow. He always did. She wished she had left him to rot in the Lockwood cellar, chained and powerless. The fleeting thought of driving her blade into his carotid artery crossed her mind, the imagined sight of him choking on his own blood offering a momentary sense of satisfaction. At least that would shut him up, she mused bitterly.

But she knew better. As much as she loathed him, they were bound by a shared goal—to find their family. And she couldn't deny that their chances of success were greater together. That knowledge did little to quell the anger simmering inside her, anger she wasn't entirely sure was even meant for him.

The fresh air did little to calm her frayed nerves as she stepped outside, but she kept walking, her pace brisk and her destination unclear. She wasn't surprised to hear Klaus's footsteps behind her. He was predictable in that way, his presence as constant and infuriating as the shadow he cast.

"Really, sister," Klaus said as he caught up, his tone light but tinged with an undercurrent of annoyance. "What exactly do you hope to accomplish by storming off? Surely you don't think running from me will solve anything."

Letti kept walking, her jaw clenched as she ignored him. But Klaus wasn't one to be ignored, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he pushed her too far.

Growing tired of her silence, Klaus grabbed Letti roughly by the wrist, halting her mid-stride and forcing her to turn and face him. Her fiery blue eyes locked onto his, burning with defiance, but his gaze was just as sharp, the fury he'd held since she'd freed him from his shackles simmering just beneath the surface.

"You'd do well to answer me, Nikoleta," Klaus said, his tone low and venomous, a clear warning.

"Or what?" Letti shot back, her voice laced with disdain. She refused to back down, meeting his icy gaze head-on. She'd endured that look countless times before, and this moment was no different. What she failed to notice, however, were the silent figures lurking in the shadows nearby—Klaus's hybrids, awaiting their sire's command. Letti's focus was consumed by the relentless irritation Klaus had become...and by the ache she couldn't shake for Damon Salvatore.

"Why don't we find out?" Klaus suggested, his voice taking on a dark, almost amused edge. He moved faster than she could react, his hand snapping around her throat in a vice-like grip. In an instant, he sped them both out of the square, the world blurring around them until he came to an abrupt stop deep within the forest.

Letti struggled against him, her anger flaring hotter with every moment. But Klaus held firm, his grip tightening as his frustration with her resistance boiled over.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Letti demanded, shoving Klaus away with all the force her rage could muster. Her voice was sharp, cutting through the stillness of the forest.

Klaus staggered back slightly but recovered with an unsettling ease, his hands clasped casually behind his back. He stood before her, framed by the dense trees, his posture deceptively calm. Yet, the simmering rage in his eyes betrayed the smug expression curling his lips. He had her exactly where he wanted her—isolated, vulnerable, and far from any prying eyes.

"The answer is quite simple, really," Klaus said, his tone smooth but dripping with malice. He began pacing in front of her, a predator circling its prey. Each step was calculated, meant to rattle her composure. "I've had a bit of time to think since your little tantrum yesterday, and I've come to a rather unfortunate conclusion..." He paused, letting the tension stretch between them. "You will be of no use to me in the quest to find our family."

Letti narrowed her eyes, her gaze fixed on Klaus with an intensity that matched the fury bubbling beneath her surface. She weighed the potential meaning of his words, her mind racing to anticipate his next move. Surely, he wouldn't be foolish enough to challenge her again. Not here. Not like this. "And how do you figure that?" she asked, her tone sharp and unwavering.

"You seem to have lost your touch in your quest for retribution, sister," Klaus said smoothly, though he knew the words were a mere fabrication. His aim was clear: to unnerve her, to push her until she cracked. And in her current emotional state, it was all too easy. "How am I to trust that you won't disappoint me? That you won't hinder this entire process?"

Letti let out a slow, measured breath, her shoulders tensing as she began to close the distance between them with the same deliberate and calculated steps. She knew his game, saw it for what it was, and yet the sharp edges of his words still cut deep. "Because they're my family, Niklaus," she said firmly, her voice carrying the weight of her resolve. Her blue eyes burned with defiance as she met his gaze head-on. "The only ones worth saving at this point."

Klaus's smug expression hardened into one of pure contempt at her words, the pang of hurt they ignited within him flaring like a wildfire. Yet, as always, his pain morphed swiftly into fury, fueling the fire that drove this confrontation. With a swift, predatory motion, he closed the distance between them, his hand snapping around her throat with crushing precision.

Letti gasped, her hands instinctively clawing at his arm, her eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and disbelief. She hadn't expected him to recover so quickly, but her underestimation of him was now her undoing.

"I should have taken the white oak to you myself," Klaus hissed, his words a dark promise that sent a shiver down her spine. As his hand tightened around her throat, Letti's mind flickered back to Damon—the steadiness of his gaze, the way he saw through her mask. She'd traded that rare solace for this moment, for a fight she'd known was inevitable. And as the forest blurred around her, she realized with startling clarity: Klaus would never let her go—not truly.

Letti's lips curved into a strained, defiant smile despite the pressure on her throat. Even as her breaths grew ragged, there was an unmistakable glint of amusement in her eyes. Her voice was choked, but her words cut through the tension. "You can't...kill me," she rasped out. "And you won't."

For a fleeting moment, Klaus faltered, his grip slackening ever so slightly as her words struck a nerve. Her unwavering defiance burned brighter than the fury in his own eyes, a spark he both hated and begrudgingly respected.

She'd known her words to be true the moment they left her lips, but the brief flicker in Klaus's expression confirmed it, giving her the opening she needed. Letti acted without hesitation, her leg snapping up in a swift, precise motion. Her foot struck Klaus square in the sternum, sending him staggering backward with a grunt. She was on him in an instant, grabbing the collar of his shirt and hoisting him off the ground.

With a feral determination, she slammed him against a nearby tree, the bark splintering beneath the force of the impact.

"If you kill me, you'll have nothing," Letti hissed, her voice low and sharp, each word laced with venom. She tightened her grip on his shirt, slamming him back with more force as he made an attempt to escape her grasp, the echo of shattering wood punctuating her words. "There will be no one left who gives a damn about you."

Klaus growled, his blue eyes blazing with rage as he braced himself against the tree.

With a fluid motion, he drove his elbow into her face, the strike so forceful it broke her hold on him. Letti staggered back, her head snapping to the side, but she didn't falter for long.

Before she could regain her footing, Klaus lunged. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her to the ground with crushing force, his palm pressing against her chest to keep her pinned. He leaned over her, his voice a low snarl. "You forget our siblings, Nikoleta," he said, his words heavy with derision, but Letti didn't need reminding.

Her gaze locked with his, fierce and unyielding, even as she struggled beneath his weight. Her lips twisted into a mocking smile, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. "Do I?" she bit back, her tone daring, a challenge he couldn't ignore.

Letti's fingers curled around a fallen branch within reach. Without hesitation, she drove it into Klaus's abdomen in a swift, brutal motion.

He gasped, the sharp intake of breath followed by a low, feral growl as he staggered back, clutching the branch embedded in his torso. Blood seeped from the wound, dark and thick, pooling at his feet. His furious gaze snapped to Letti, but before he could react, she shoved him hard, sending him sprawling to the ground.

She stood over him, watching with cold detachment as he clawed at the branch, his teeth clenched against the pain. "How long until Rebekah tires of your cruelty?" she demanded. She didn't wait for an answer, delivering a vicious kick to his abdomen that sent him flying several feet. He crashed into the underbrush, the impact forcing a sharp grunt from his throat.

"How long until she grows to hate you," Letti continued, her tone sharp and unforgiving, "for the role you've played in decimating her life? Or Elijah—the brother who has stood by your side for centuries, wasting his very existence hoping you'll become someone worthy of the light he's so desperately tried to shine on you."

Her words were relentless, each one striking like a physical blow. She stalked toward him, her eyes blazing with fury, her steps deliberate and slow. Klaus glared at her from where he lay, his hand gripping the branch protruding from his torso. But even as he struggled to pull it free, the weight of her words hung heavy in the air, a reckoning he couldn't easily shrug off.

Her voice was steady, cutting, as she delivered the words that would slice deeper than any blade. "Father was right—you have no one. No one other than those whose loyalty you've forced."

The words struck like a thunderclap. Hearing them from Mikael had been painful enough, but from Letti—his twin, his other half—they carried a weight Klaus hadn't prepared for. It wasn't just an accusation; it was a rejection, one that tore through him more viciously than the scornful gaze of their father ever could.

For once, Klaus was at a loss. No biting retort, no smug remark. The silence was deafening, filled only with the crackle of leaves underfoot and the sound of their breaths, heavy with unspoken pain. Letti's words cut him deep, and he knew she could see the flicker of vulnerability that crossed his face. He would not allow it to linger.

With a guttural growl and a sharp grunt of effort, Klaus wrenched the branch from his abdomen. Blood stained his hands, but his grip was firm as he leaped to his feet. Without hesitation, he swung the makeshift weapon at Letti, aiming for her face. The blow landed with a sickening crack, sending her sprawling across the ground.

She recovered quickly, her movements fluid despite the fresh blood trailing from her split lip. Crouched low in a defensive position, her eyes burned with unyielding defiance. She lunged at him, her speed and precision as lethal as ever, but Klaus anticipated the attack. He moved faster, his belief in his superior strength fueling his every motion.

The branch still in hand, he met her charge head-on, his face a mask of fury and determination. Letti was relentless, her strikes calculated, each one aimed to disarm or disable. But Klaus was just as driven, his own anger blazing as he closed the distance between them, unwilling to let her words be the last blow.

Letti anticipated Klaus's movements, recognizing the way he gripped the branch, his intent clear in his eyes. She sidestepped, narrowly avoiding his initial swing, but Klaus was faster. Anticipating her evasion, he sped behind her, his hand tangling in her hair as he yanked her backward with brutal force. Before she could regain her footing, he drove the jagged branch into her spine.

The sickening crack of her shattered ribs echoed through the clearing, the pain sharp and immediate. Letti's breath hitched, her body seizing under the impact. She clenched her jaw tightly, swallowing the scream building in her throat. She would not give him the satisfaction. Not now. Not ever.

Klaus didn't stop there. His grip on the branch tightened as he pulled her closer, twisting the weapon deeper into her body. The wood splintered through her chest, the jagged end emerging from the front in a grotesque display of violence. Letti trembled in his hold, her body betraying the immense pain coursing through her.
She choked, blood pooling in her throat, spilling past her lips in ragged gasps.

Klaus leaned closer, his eyes scanning her tear-filled blue ones, catching the shimmer of pain mingled with defiance. The sight only fueled his cruel satisfaction. "I thought l'd need my hybrids to bring you down," he taunted, his voice a dangerous purr. "But I'd almost forgotten how satisfying it is to do it myself."

With a savage twist of the branch, he ensured the pain was searing, his lips curling into a smirk as he watched her flinch. Still holding her upright, his hand moved to her throat, clamping down with unyielding force. Letti coughed violently, spraying blood across his face, but her gaze didn't falter. Even now, with her body battered and broken, the defiance in her eyes burned brighter than the tears threatening to fall.

"Still 'give a damn,' sister?" Klaus sneered, his words heavy with mockery.

Letti struggled in his grip, her body wracked with pain as the jagged branch twisted inside her. The searing agony radiated through every nerve, yet her focus remained on his words, each one cutting deeper than the physical torment. Her limbs grew weaker, trembling against the overwhelming force of his assault, but her voice, though strained, refused to waver. "I always will," she choked out, the raw vulnerability in her tone breaking through the haze of pain. "That's why...this hurts...so much."

Klaus faltered, his grip loosening imperceptibly as her words struck a nerve. For the briefest of moments, a flicker of something—regret, perhaps even hope—flickered in his eyes. It was fleeting, a crack in his carefully constructed armor, and Letti saw it. She saw it and clung to it, even as her body screamed for relief.

But Klaus wouldn't allow himself to linger on that flicker. He buried it quickly, masking it with a cold fury that burned brighter than his momentary hesitation. He leaned closer, his face mere inches from hers, his icy blue eyes locking onto hers with unrelenting intensity. Her tears glistened in the faint light, carving trails down her bloodied face, but they didn't diminish the fire in her gaze. That fire—her resilience—infuriated him as much as it captivated him.

"I do hope you've enjoyed your years of blissful solitude, Nikoleta," Klaus said, his voice low and venomous, each word dripping with calculated malice. "Because I promise, this time, it will be anything but."

Before Letti could respond, before she could find the words to challenge him, Klaus gave a brutal twist of her neck. The sickening crack echoed through the clearing, and her body went limp in his grasp, collapsing to the ground with a thud.

Klaus stood over her, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to steady his breath. His hand trembled ever so slightly, the ghost of her words echoing in his mind, taunting him. He stared down at her unconscious figure, her stillness a stark contrast to the fiery spirit she'd just displayed. The faint pang of guilt in his chest clawed at him, unwelcome and unrelenting.

With a sharp inhale, he tore his gaze away, forcing himself to bury the storm of emotions she'd stirred within him. The vulnerability her words had unearthed was unwelcome, a distraction from the rage that fueled him. If she wanted retribution, he would give her more than she could bear. Klaus was determined to make her pay—not just for her defiance, but for the truth in her words that he couldn't bring himself to face.

As he turned away, his jaw clenched tightly, he allowed the anger to consume him once more. Because anger was easier. Anger didn't hurt.

And yet, as he left her there in the silence of the forest for his hybrids to retrieve, something in him felt irrevocably broken.