WAR OF HEARTS ↠ KOL MIKAELSON [1]

2:11

| THE STAND:
CHAPTER ELEVEN |

"I don't care if you like me," Marcel said flatly, arms crossed as he stood opposite Vincent in the shadow of Saint Anne's. "But we've got a problem. New vampires in the Quarter. Not just new—ancient. And they're circling like vultures."

Vincent eyed him warily. "Out-of-towners, huh?"

"Way out of town," Marcel confirmed. "And they want two things: the Regent, and a Monroe witch on their side."

Vincent exhaled slowly through his nose. He already didn't like where this was going.

"I know your type of witches don't exactly hold hands and sing Kumbaya with the Monroes," Marcel added, "but I also know you've been helping Davina. And Ares."

There was no judgment in Marcel's voice—just facts. Brutal, unflinching facts. And the second Vincent heard Davina's name, his posture changed.

"They've made it clear," Marcel continued. "Say no, and Davina dies. They've killed Ares before—they'll do it again. Rhea's the only one with the kind of firepower to stand a chance. I told them to leave town, but they're Monroe. They'd rather bleed out on their own front porch than run."

Vincent stared at the stone floor beneath them, thoughts racing. Witches were in danger. Again.

"Hell," he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Alright. Ares and Rhea haven't talked in days, right?"

Marcel nodded.

"Then let's keep it that way," Vincent said, eyes narrowing in thought. "Let the rift between them hold—for now. As for Davina..." he hesitated, "There might be a way to get her out of this clean. But you're not gonna like it."

Marcel tilted his head. "Try me."

—

Rhea sat on the edge of her bed, motionless.

Beyond her window, the sounds of suffering echoed faintly—groans, screams, the unmistakable symphony of Mikaelson-brand torture. Once upon a time, she'd have been right in the thick of it. Guiding it. Reveling in it.

But not tonight.

Tonight, her bones ached with a different kind of exhaustion. The centuries weighed too heavily on her shoulders. And despite the quiet calm of her surroundings, she felt the chaos inside her swirling louder than any scream from the dungeons below.

Am I breaking?

The thought came unbidden. She swallowed hard.

No. Not breaking. Just... unraveling.

She didn't look up when the door creaked open.

"Get up."

Hayley's voice was firm. Not unkind, but certainly not giving her an option.

"No," Rhea said, eyes fixed on the floor.

Hayley stepped in further, arms crossed. "Not asking. You're coming with me. Me and Freya are about to torture Rebekah's location out of Aurora, and I figured you could use a little catharsis."

Rhea let out a dry laugh, but there was no amusement in it. "I'm not your weapon, Hayley. I'm done letting people use me like one."

"This isn't about Klaus or Elijah. I'm not here as a hybrid. I'm here as your friend, Rhea." Hayley softened, taking in her pale, worn-out expression. "You're a mess. You're shutting down and pushing everyone away. I heard you earlier. You were—what? Five minutes from falling apart completely?"