Chapter 13
The night had fallen silent, a heavy stillness settling over the compound. The air felt thick, charged with an unsettling energy. Brittany and Santana sat on the edge of the study, their eyes flickering between each other and the door, which had begun to shake as if something, or someone, was trying to force their way in. The walls of the compound, usually a barrier from the outside world, now felt frail in the face of whatever was coming.
“What is that?” Brittany whispered, her voice tight with anxiety.
Santana’s jaw was clenched, but her eyes never left the door. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t sound good.”
Before Brittany could respond, the sound of crashing glass echoed from the courtyard, followed by the unmistakable growl of something inhuman. The night was alive with chaos. There was no mistaking it now, danger was at their doorstep.
Inside the study, Freya, Vincent, and Davina stood together, their faces hardened with determination. Freya raised her hand, and a glow emanated from her fingertips as she began murmuring an incantation. The air around them seemed to ripple, thickening as she worked to raise a barrier around the compound. The ground vibrated beneath their feet, but Freya’s spell held steady.
“They’re coming,” Vincent muttered, his eyes dark with concern as he reached for his own power, ready to assist Freya if needed.
“I can feel them,” Davina added, her voice low but confident. “The Scorned. They’ve found us.”
Brittany’s heart pounded in her chest, her hands trembling slightly. She wasn’t sure she was ready for this kind of fight. Not yet. She had barely started learning to control her own magic, and now, here she was, facing a group of vampires who were likely here for one thing only: death.
Santana, sensing her discomfort, placed a hand on Brittany’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’re not alone in this,” she said, her tone firm, though Brittany could hear the edge of fear beneath it. “We’ll make it through.”
But Brittany wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
Suddenly, a violent crash from outside interrupted their thoughts. The doors to the courtyard burst open, and Marcel, his face a mask of fury, stormed into the room, wiping blood from his hands.
“They’re here,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. “And they won’t leave alive.”
With a sudden burst of energy, he spun on his heel and charged into the courtyard, his footsteps thunderous. The door slammed behind him, but the sounds of the battle quickly filled the compound. Screams. Fights. The unmistakable sound of bones snapping and flesh tearing.
Brittany’s stomach twisted with fear. She had heard of the infamous Mikaelsons; their power, their ruthlessness. But to see it in action was something else entirely.
“I’ll protect Hope,” Hayley said, stepping in front of the teenager, her eyes fierce. “Stay close to me.”
Hope, however, wasn’t having it. “I don’t need protecting,” she insisted, her voice steady, but Brittany could see the flicker of determination in her eyes. “I can fight too.”
Hayley shot her a sharp look but said nothing more, keeping her stance firm. She might have been protecting her daughter, but the strength of the Mikaelsons was evident even in a teenager.
The sounds of the battle grew louder, more frantic. It was clear that Marcel wasn’t holding back. Brittany couldn’t help but watch, wide-eyed, as he tore through the Scorned with an almost brutal efficiency. One by one, vampires fell to the ground, their bodies crumpling as he dispatched them without mercy. The floor was slick with blood, and the stench of death began to fill the air.
Kol appeared beside them, leaning casually against the wall with a grin on his face as he watched the chaos unfold. His voice was a low chuckle. “That’s one way to deal with them,” he said, clearly amused.
Brittany’s stomach churned as she watched the bodies pile up. She had never seen anything like it before, never even imagined such destruction. Each swing of Marcel’s arm seemed to end with a lifeless body on the ground. The fight was over almost as quickly as it had started, leaving nothing but the wreckage of what had once been a group of vicious, violent vampires.
When the last of the Scorned fell, Marcel stood over them, his breathing heavy but controlled. His eyes, though, were alive with something darker; a satisfaction that chilled Brittany to her core. She had expected to see fear, maybe a sense of regret. But all she saw in him was triumph.
Kol, still grinning, surveyed the carnage with a twisted sense of pride. “You’ll get used to it,” he said lightly. “This is what we do.”
Brittany could feel the bile rising in her throat. This wasn’t just a fight. This was murder, cold and merciless. The world they lived in was so far removed from the one she had known that it made her head spin.
Santana, who had been silent until now, stepped closer to Brittany. She could see the way her ex-girlfriend’s hands were shaking, the way her face was pale, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and confusion.
But Santana refused to show her own fear. Instead, she reached out and placed her hand on Brittany’s arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s over now.”
Brittany nodded, though she wasn’t sure she believed it. The sound of Marcel’s laughter, the sight of his bloodied hands, and the image of the fallen Scorned would stay with her forever. She wasn’t sure how she could ever get used to this world, to this kind of violence.
But one thing was clear, she had no choice but to survive it. And with Santana beside her, she would.
For now, that was enough.