Chapter 20
The Mikaelson compound was still, a heavy silence hanging in the air after the day’s chaos. The air was thick with unspoken words, unprocessed emotions, and the weight of what had happened. Brittany sat in a quiet corner, her hands clasped tightly together as she stared into the distance, lost in thought. The fear and worry from earlier that day hadn’t fully subsided, but there was a flicker of hope now that Santana was back.
It wasn’t long before Freya approached, her eyes still glowing slightly with the after-effects of her spellwork. The soft hum of magic lingered in the air around her.
“I’ve got something,” Freya said with quiet certainty, her voice breaking the tense silence.
Brittany’s heart lurched in her chest, her gaze snapping to Freya. “What? You found her?”
Freya nodded. “She’s back.”
The relief Brittany felt was overwhelming, but there was a hesitation in the back of her mind. The uncertainty that had plagued her for the past few days was far from gone, though it had softened for the moment.
“Where is she?” Brittany asked, her voice trembling with a mix of relief and uncertainty.
“She’s at the compound,” Freya answered. “She’s back here, Brittany. Alive.”
Brittany’s heart surged, and without a second thought, she shot to her feet, practically bolting toward the door. She didn’t hesitate to round the corner, her eyes scanning the room in search of Santana. Her breath caught when she saw her. Santana stood in the entrance, her clothes a little torn, her hair messy, and her expression tired—but it was her. Alive. The weight of everything she had gone through seemed to radiate from her, but she was standing there, and that was all that mattered.
“Santana,” Brittany breathed, rushing to close the distance between them. She enveloped her in a tight embrace, not caring about the dirt on Santana’s clothes or the tension in her muscles. Santana was home.
Santana’s arms circled her waist, holding her just as tightly, though there was a sharpness to her grip. “I’m fine, Brit. I’m good.”
Brittany pulled back slightly, hands tracing over her face, over her arms, checking for injuries. “You’re really back?” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Santana gave a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course I am. I went all Lima Heights on their asses.” She shrugged as if the danger she’d just been through had been nothing more than an inconvenience.
Marcel, who had been waiting by the door, sighed in relief. “It’s good to have you back,” he said, though his words were clipped, cautious. He hadn’t missed the tension in the air.
Freya, however, was more restrained. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she studied Santana with an unreadable expression. It was obvious she didn’t fully trust that Santana had returned unscathed, or that everything was as it seemed. But she didn’t voice her suspicions just yet.
“Where did you go?” Freya asked, her tone neutral but piercing.
Santana met her gaze without flinching. “I was out. I handled things. No big deal.”
Brittany glanced between them, but before she could say anything, Marcel spoke again, though this time his voice held a note of wariness. “How did you get away from them?”
Santana paused, her eyes flicking toward the floor for a moment before she lifted her chin. “I did what I had to do. I survived.”
“I’m glad you survived,” Marcel said, though his eyes remained skeptical. “But I want to know the details. What happened? How’d you make it back here?”
Santana took a deep breath, her face momentarily clouding over with the weight of what she couldn’t say. “It’s a long story,” she said quietly. “Let’s just leave it at this; I'm back, and that's what matters.”
Brittany still held onto Santana’s arm, trying to read her face, but Santana’s expression was closed off, her emotions buried deep beneath the surface. She didn’t want to speak about the truth, not yet, not until she could figure out how to balance her loyalty to the Mikaelsons with her promise to Greta.
A long silence settled between them, the unspoken tension heavy in the room. Then Freya, still studying Santana with a piercing gaze, spoke again, though her words were more calculated now. “I’m glad you’re back. But there’s something you’re not telling us.”
Santana’s heart skipped a beat. She had expected Freya’s suspicion. But she wasn’t ready for the direct confrontation. “I’m fine,” she repeated firmly, trying to brush off the concern. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
But Freya wasn’t convinced. She looked at her with a mix of curiosity and wariness. “I’m not worried about you. I’m worried about what happens next.”
Santana turned her back, as if to avoid the deeper conversation she knew was coming. “Right now, nothing’s changed. Let’s leave it at that.”
Marcel, sensing the shift in the conversation, stepped in. “We’re all tired. We can pick this up later. For now, let’s rest. We’ve got a long road ahead of us.”
But as the rest of the family began to retreat, Brittany couldn’t help but feel the weight of Santana’s secrecy. She held onto the hope that her return meant everything was okay, but deep down, she knew Santana was hiding something. The question was… what?
That night, when the rest of the compound had fallen silent and the sounds of the city outside began to fade, Freya made her move. Quietly, she slipped into Santana’s room, her footsteps soft against the floorboards. Santana was sitting by the window, her mind lost in thought, her gaze distant.
“Freya,” Santana said without turning around. “What’s up?”
Freya closed the door softly behind her, making sure it was shut tight. “We need to talk.”
Santana’s body stiffened, her muscles locking in place. She didn’t need to ask what this was about. She could feel it coming.
“Look, I’m not telling anyone what happened,” Santana said, her voice low but firm. “I’m not ready for that. Not yet.”
Freya didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she crossed the room, her eyes fixed on Santana. “I know you’re hiding something, and I can’t ignore that. But I also know that you’ve done what you thought was best to protect the ones you love.”
Santana turned to look at her now, a flicker of confusion and suspicion flashing across her face. “What are you getting at, Freya?”
Freya’s gaze softened, her tone quiet and almost sympathetic. “I know you’re torn, Santana. I know you’ve made a deal with them. With Greta.”
Santana’s breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering. She stepped back, a look of panic crossing her features. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m not here to accuse you,” Freya said gently, her voice calm and reassuring. “I’m here to help you. I know what you’ve been tasked with. And I know why you’re doing it. But you don’t have to do this alone.”
Santana’s expression shifted, the panic still lingering beneath the surface. “I’m just trying to keep Brittany safe. I made a promise. If I do this, Greta will leave her alone.”
Freya stepped closer, her voice lowering. “You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself. And you certainly don’t have to do it at the cost of Hope’s life.”
Santana’s chest tightened, and she finally sank into a chair, exhaustion and guilt weighing heavily on her. “But I can’t let them hurt her. Not after everything we’ve been through.”
Freya stood in front of her, her hands clasped in front of her. “I won’t let you hurt anyone, Santana. But I can’t let you betray my family either.”
Santana’s eyes locked with Freya’s, searching for some sign that she wasn’t alone in this. She saw something in Freya’s eyes, something that wasn’t judgment, but understanding.
“You’re not alone,” Freya whispered. “I know how much you love her. I get it. I would have done the same to protect my family, and to protect Keelin. My girlfriend.”
Santana let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, and then Freya moved closer, casting a subtle spell to ensure no one else could hear or see them. She had trapped them in a chambre de chasse. The room grew still, the air heavy with magic.
“Listen,” Freya said, her voice firm yet reassuring. “I have a plan. We’ll make sure that you don’t have to go through with this. But we need to act quickly.”
Santana’s heart skipped a beat. “What’s the plan?”
Freya leaned in closer, her lips brushing against Santana’s ear as she whispered something that made her blood run cold; and yet, for the first time in days, hope flickered in her chest.
Freya’s plan was in motion.