Prophecy

The Ultimate Test

Chapter Nine

I trudge back toward the boarding house nearly worn out from the run I just took. It has really been helping to rid my mind of the bloodlust. The sun's setting and I'm exhausted Stefan's been patient, guiding me through the process, and for once, I feel like I might actually be able to live in this world without losing myself.

As I reach the driveway, something catches my eye—a sleek, silver Mercedes parked right in front. It's stunning, with tinted windows and chrome details that catch the fading light. I stop in my tracks, staring. There's no mistaking it: the car wasn't here when I left. And judging by the way it's positioned—perfectly angled, almost on display—it's not just some random car parked by mistake.

That familiar scent lingers in the air—Damon. Only he would make such an over-the-top gesture. I walk over to it, almost expecting him to leap out of the bushes and make some snarky remark. But he's not here. He's left the car like an apology he's too proud to deliver in person. I roll my eyes, gripping the door handle and letting myself in.

The interior is flawless, and as I settle into the driver's seat, I notice my name stitched into the headrests in smooth, elegant script: Blaire. He really thought this through, didn't he?

It's supposed to mean something. I can tell by the way the car smells like him—leather, cedar, and that faint, heady scent that's uniquely Damon. He left his mark on purpose, wanting me to feel his presence, to know he's still there, lurking around the edges of my life. But he's dead wrong if he thinks this changes anything.

I deserve this car. After everything he's put me through, it's the least he can do. But it doesn't make a dent in the anger that still simmers beneath my skin. If he thinks a shiny new toy is going to make me forgive him or forget what he did, he's delusional. Damon Salvatore is dead to me. This car isn't a peace offering; it's just a token of the damage he's caused, a reminder of what I lost because of him.

With one last look around the interior, I lean back against the seat, letting a smirk tug at my lips. I'll take the car, sure. I've earned it, and I don't owe him a single ounce of gratitude for it. As far as I'm concerned, it's the least he can do, and if it costs him something, all the better. He's out of my life, and this car won't bring him back in. I'll drive it, I'll enjoy it, but Damon Salvatore is a ghost to me now.

I step out, slamming the door shut. This is mine now, but he's still nothing to me. I head back inside, already planning my first drive, and not giving a damn what he thinks about it.

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Stefan watches me carefully from across the room, his arms folded, an intense look on his face. I can already feel the tension in the air. He's been hinting at this conversation for days, and now that it's here, I'm not sure I want to hear what he has to say.

"I think you're ready to go home," he says, his voice steady but firm.

I open my mouth to argue, the instinct to push back kicking in immediately. "Stefan, I don't think—"

He raises a hand, cutting me off. "Blaire, listen. You've been doing well. Better than I expected. But you can't keep hiding here forever. The only way to truly gain control over your urges is to face them. You need to be around people again—your family."

I shake my head, feeling a surge of panic rise up. "I can't go back. You don't understand, Stefan. The last time I tried, I almost lost it. What if I hurt them?"

He steps closer, his expression softening. "That's why you need to test yourself, Blaire. You've learned a lot, and you've managed to hold back. But staying here, away from everyone, isn't going to help you in the long run. If you can make it through a night at home without losing control, you'll know you can make it indefinitely."