Ripples: A Klaroline Fanfiction

4.

9 Months Ago

"I'll see you tomorrow," the blonde bartender bid farewell to her last customer of the day: Klaus Mikaelson.

He lingered in the doorway, appearing to wish to say something, but hesitating. Months ago, he'd been the weird newcomer who shrouded himself in an air of danger. Fear ensued everywhere he went, but she'd never felt it. A part of her had somehow known he wouldn't hurt her unless provoked and that was not something she'd wanted to do. Always speaking her mind in his presence, an unexpected friendship had slowly built. Now, there was no denying that a spark had been ignited between them. More so, he was slowly opening up to her, allowing her to see the man beneath.

And she liked what she was seeing.

Eyeing him expectantly, the woman was not surprised to find him backing down. The wounds from his past were still too deep.

"As shall I," he nodded and left Rousseau's and her feeling quite disappointed.

Cleaning after drunken idiots was proving harder when she couldn't take her mind off Klaus and whatever it was that he'd held back. Not like she hoping for a confession, but something, anything would have been preferable to those dry three words. That was precisely why she went home later than usual. Having lived for years in New Orleans, walking alone at night wasn't an issue despite the streets in the French Quarter being known as dangerous.

Besides, she wasn't an easy woman to scare.

Not having a better paid job meant that you could not afford an apartment in a residential area. So, she lived in a cramped one-bedroom found at the end of a small alley in which the street lights did not even work anymore. Her neighbors, most likely drug addicts could not care less about it though, and nobody listened to her complaints about fixing it. It was like talking to a stone. Still, something was different from the other nights. She could feel it. And see it soon enough.

Tough it out, it's probably nothing, she willed herself to continue her stride unaffected by the tall man clad in black that had appeared in front of her. Advancing, she expected him to go on his own way, but none of that happened. Instead, he continued to stare at her.

As if he was waiting for her.

No, that was absurd, she shook her head, it was just paranoia speaking. Walking alone in this part of the city had managed to rattle her deeply. Her gut screamed that something did not bode well, but she chose to ignore it. Huge mistake.

Now that she was closer, the blonde could see him better. He appeared young, in his early thirties maybe, had cold, inexpressive black eyes and full lips tugged into a smirk. Maybe it was the evil glint in his orbs or how he nonchalantly reached into his pockets, but a shiver ran down her spine.

Five meters. That was all that separated them.

Holding her breath, she walked past him, breathing out a sigh of relief when he remained unmoving.

Her reprieve was short-lived though, because no sooner had she taken three steps, than a cold hand clamored on her wrist. Suddenly, she was yanked hard and pressed against a wall. The impact knocked out all the air from her lungs, bruises already forming on her back. Both of her arms were held in a vicious grip above her head. Struggling, she concentrated all of her strength into breaking free, but it was impossible.

Heart pounding, she turned her head towards her attacker. Hate was embedded deep into his coal eyes, but that didn't make any sense whatsoever -she had never seen him before.

Something cold was held against her neck and she risked a look. It made her blood run cold.

A knife. Pressed to her skin. Pushing lightly, enough to cause pain.