"What do you think you're doing?"

"Drinking." I tipped my glass in his direction. "I tried going further into the city and discovered I couldn't go much further than this bar."

Marcel stepped over my pile of bodies. "I'm trying to contain your binge."

"You're no fun."

"And you need to get back to the compound before I confine you to it."

"That's adorable."

"What makes you think I won't?" He set his hands on his hips.

I hummed, tapping my chin. "I'm back, in my hometown, with lots of witches. You think I don't have more than a few favors I can't cash in?"

"It's been a long time, those witches are dead."

"Maybe so." The witches who loved me, they were part of the ancestors now. "Though I know of a particularly powerful one who does favor me still. Well... she favors Morgan. We both know I can pretend." I'd prefer if I didn't have to use Bonnie Bennett.

She's on Morgan's list of loved ones, short as it is.

Marcel took my glass, setting it far from me. "You are going back. This time I'll ensure you don't have any bits of metal to escape."

I exaggerated a groan. "This is a poor attempt at control, Marcellus. Frankly I'm surprised, with Klaus for a father, one would think you'd not want to be as anal as he is."

"I'm not him." He muttered darkly.

As if saying it would make it true. "Aren't you? The paranoia. Ruling the city with an iron fist. Trapping your loved ones in dark places. Sounds an awful lot like Nik, no?"

I'd walked in shadow for the majority of the day, observing Morgan's beloved home, toeing the line of the boundary. Her skin would be crawling if she saw what was being done to it.

Everything the Mikaelsons had put into place, the peace that was established, gone. Marcel, in his time as their ruler, ensured the vampires were the ruling class. There was not a single wolf in this city. I could only guess they'd been confined to the bayou.

And the witches.

Oh Morgan would be livid.

I felt it the second I'd stepped foot in the cemetery.

The ancestor's magic.

It was different to when we were last there. More raw. More angry. The ancestors were always bitter but something had happened.

And it wasn't good. Like an open wound that festered far beyond repair.

"If I'm Klaus, what does that make you?"

"Better."

He rolled his eyes. "Can we go or are you going to keep stalling."

I held my wrists out mockingly. "Of course, if I go back there's no telling what kinds of deals I'll make with Nik, how we might topple your petty little regime."

"I can put you in your coffin."

"Threats, threats, threats. Just like daddy dearest." It was getting under his skin, clear as day. "You know... I don't have to terrorize New Orleans. Let me go, and I'll disappear."

"We're negotiating now?" He paused. "Klaus figured it out, didn't he. That's why you tried to leave the second you were free."

"The fact that he's alive tells me you don't have the balls to kill him, either that or you can't. We both know he's smart enough to inevitably escape. Personally I'd like to keep my humanity off."

He hummed. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Searing pain crawled up my spine and I grabbed my head, screaming.

White hot agony tore at my very soul.

Through the blur, I could barely make out a witch, her hand upward. I could taste blood on my tongue and arms wrapped around me, one hooking under my knees.

"Sorry, Princess. This is how it has to be."

All consuming darkness flooded my eyes as I felt myself being lifted.