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It had been five long years since Hope Mikaelson left the Salvatore Boarding School, and nearly as long since she’d allowed herself to see Josie Saltzman in person. Yet here she was, tucked into a dim corner of a small coffee shop in New York, the soft hum of conversation and the scent of fresh coffee doing little to soothe her restlessness.
Word had traveled to Hope—Belgium hadn’t worked out for Josie. Something about that knowledge had pushed Hope onto the next flight, a small thread of relief and dread woven together. She found Josie here in New York, living what appeared to be a quiet life, though every step Hope took felt louder and messier by comparison.
Now, through the rain-speckled glass of the window, Hope saw her. Josie was crossing the street, her honey-brown hair catching in the wind as she laughed at something her companion said. A woman Hope didn’t recognize walked beside her, their arms loosely intertwined—a detail that made something sharp twist in Hope’s chest. She clenched her jaw, the corners of her mouth pulling downward in something close to a cringe.
Hope looked away abruptly, her throat suddenly dry, her vision tinged red. She recognized the hunger settling in, deep and unrelenting. It was the wrong kind of hunger. Blood, not coffee. That, she decided, she would deal with first before confronting the ghost she’d come here for—Josette.
This wasn’t her first visit to the city, though Hope doubted Josie had ever noticed. Over the years, Hope had grown adept at lurking on the edges of Josie’s life, weaving herself like a shadow into the spaces Josie never turned to look. Hope knew more than she should—too much, really. She knew Josie worked at a bakery just down the street, a job that would’ve been laughable had the circumstances been different. Josie Saltzman baking pastries? Hope couldn’t help but smirk at the memory of Josie’s tragic attempt at cupcakes back at the Salvatore School. It was one of the few disasters that had unified the student body: they were truly terrible. But then, Josie was good at most things. It was almost comforting to know she wasn’t perfect.
Sighing, Hope pulled a crumpled twenty from her jacket pocket and left it on the table, far too generous a tip for her barely touched coffee. The rich aroma of freshly brewed beans lingered as she stepped outside, disappearing into the chaotic hum of the city. The air was colder out here, brisk against her cheeks, though it did nothing to cool the fire burning under her skin.
She rounded the corner just in time to see Josie and her friend disappear into a boutique. Her feet faltered, but she didn’t stop. Her blue eyes narrowed, focused on the back of Josie’s head like a hawk honing in on prey. Hope’s chest rose and fell, steady but tight.
Through the boutique’s glass window, Hope watched. She saw Josie lift a hand to the back of her head, rubbing the spot absently as though trying to shake off a strange feeling. Hope’s lips twitched. She knew what that meant. Josie could feel her. Not knowingly, perhaps, but in the way you sometimes sense someone staring when no one should be there. That small, instinctive awareness satisfied something deep inside Hope—the part of her that had been starved for connection, for acknowledgment. Josie could still feel her, if only on the periphery of her mind.
It wasn’t much. But it was enough for now.
Josie turned abruptly, her gaze scanning the boutique’s entrance, but Hope was already gone. A blink and a breath—she’d vanished, leaving nothing behind but the faintest chill of her presence. Being a tribrid had its perks, after all.
Now Hope stood in the shadows of a narrow back alley, the cold air biting at her skin. She pressed her back against the brick wall, trying to steady herself, to quiet the tempest inside her. Bloodlust gnawed at the edges of her self-control, but it wasn’t just that. Seeing Josie again—seeing her happy, even without her—had stirred something raw in her chest.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp cry.
“Stop, please!”
Hope’s head snapped in the direction of the voice, her senses sharpening as she focused on the scene unfolding just ahead. A man had cornered a woman against the rough stone wall, his hand gripping her arm while she struggled to pull away.
Hope rolled her eyes, disgust simmering beneath her calm exterior. Men. Always so predictable, so vile in their entitlement. They took what they wanted, disregarding the damage they left in their wake.
In an instant, Hope was there. The man barely had time to react before he was the one pinned against the wall. Her hand gripped his throat like a steel vise, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. He clawed at her wrist, his gasps for air coming in desperate spurts.
The woman stumbled back, her wide eyes glistening with tears, her body trembling violently. Hope turned her head, her sharp features softening as she met the woman’s gaze. Gently, she brushed a strand of hair from the woman’s face, her touch light and comforting.
“You’re safe now,” Hope said, her voice low but firm, her blue eyes glinting with an otherworldly glow. “Forget this ever happened. Leave here.”
The woman blinked, her fear fading under the weight of Hope’s compulsion. Nodding numbly, she turned and hurried away, her steps growing steadier the farther she went.
Hope turned back to the man, her expression hardening into something cold and unyielding. Her eyes shifted to a predatory amber, her fangs threatening to break through as anger coursed through her veins.
“You,” she growled, her voice dripping with venom. She loosened her grip just enough for him to rasp out a few choked breaths.
“Let… me…” he gasped. “Go…”
A slow, dangerous smirk spread across Hope’s face. “Oh, I’m happy to oblige.”
She threw him across the alley with a flick of her wrist, his body crashing into the opposite wall. The impact left him crumpled on the ground, groaning in pain as he scrambled backward on his hands and knees.
Hope stalked toward him, each step deliberate, her boots crunching against the gravel. She crouched down, her face inches from his, her head tilting as if she were inspecting a particularly revolting insect.
“You don’t like being touched against your will?” she asked mockingly, her tone laced with feigned sympathy. “Funny how that works.”
“I wasn’t… I swear… I wasn’t gonna—”
Hope’s laughter cut him off, sharp and humorless. “Oh, let me guess. You weren’t going to have your way with her despite her begging you to stop?” Her voice turned icy as she straightened to her full height. “How noble of you.”
She reached down, grabbing him by the throat again and hauling him to his feet as though he weighed nothing. His feet barely touched the ground as she held him there, her grip unrelenting.
“Here’s the thing,” she said, her voice calm but deadly. “You’re done. No more excuses. No more chances.”
She released him suddenly, watching as he stumbled and clutched at his throat, coughing violently. He looked at her with wide, terrified eyes.
“I’m leaving!” he croaked, backing away. “I swear, it won’t happen again!”
Hope didn’t stop him as he turned and began to run, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. But before he could make it more than a few steps, her voice rang out, low and lethal.
“No, it won’t.”
In a blur of motion, she was behind him, her fingers tangling in his matted hair. She yanked his head back, exposing the vulnerable curve of his neck. Her fangs descended with a sharp, satisfying click, and she sank them into his throat without hesitation.
The hot rush of blood flooded her senses, the pulse beneath her tongue an intoxicating rhythm. She could feel his heartbeat faltering, his body growing weaker with every second. Her instincts urged her to drain him dry, to let the darkness within her take what it craved.
But Hope pulled back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she let the man’s lifeless body collapse to the ground. She stared at him for a long moment, her amber eyes still glowing.
“You’re lucky that there’s a very gorgeous woman in this city who would hate for me to handle this the wrong way,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “Though, I think ripping your throat apart would be the right thing.”
She straightened, the hunger in her veins dulled but not sated. She turned away, disappearing into the night like the predator she was—silent, unseen, and dangerous.
Hope’s blue eyes bore into the man’s, unrelenting and cold, like the steel edge of a blade. She leaned in, her voice calm yet threaded with something lethal as she ignored the man crying out in pain.
“You will forget I was here,” she commanded softly, each word sharp and precise, a whisper of doom that sank into his trembling mind. “But when you leave this alley, you’re going straight to the police. You will tell them exactly what you did.”
The man shuddered violently, his lips trembling, but Hope could already see the compulsion taking root. His pupils widened, glassy and distant as her words became law. She felt no guilt about this. Hope never used her compulsion to bend others to her will unless it was necessary—and tonight, unless Josie was somehow prepared to overlook cold-blooded murder, this was necessary.
Hope straightened, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth to remove the last trace of blood, before brushing it off on her black jeans. Her gaze lingered on the man for half a beat longer, her expression unreadable, before she turned on her heel.
The thud of her steel-toed boots echoed softly in the narrow alley as she walked away, the air still heavy with the scent of fear and blood.
When she emerged back onto the busy street, the world felt jarringly normal—traffic lights blinked, car horns blared in the distance, and people hurried by, completely unaware of the predator among them. Hope’s eyes immediately found Josie.
The brunette stood just outside the boutique now, her friend lingering for a moment longer before waving goodbye and disappearing into the crowd. Josie smiled faintly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before pulling her phone from her handbag.
Hope froze mid-step, her breath catching in her throat. She watched as Josie lifted the phone to her ear, her lips parting to speak.
For a moment, Hope hesitated. It wasn’t her intention to eavesdrop, but this wasn’t like the other times. This visit wasn’t about lurking on the fringes of Josie’s life or pretending she didn’t exist. Hope had a purpose today—a confession long buried under years of pain and denial.
She planned to tell Josie the truth.
That Josie had invaded her every thought, her every waking moment. That she couldn’t move forward, couldn’t exist without her. Hope Mikaelson loved Josie Saltzman—unconditionally and endlessly.
And it was unbearable.
Hope turned her head slightly, angling her ear toward Josie, who stood just across the street. Her voice carried faintly over the din of the city, soft but clear.
“I thought it was being held in the hotel lobby?” Josie’s voice questioned, that familiar lilt tugging at something deep inside Hope’s chest.
A man’s voice, brisk and businesslike, replied from the other end. “No, no. We’ve switched it up. The art gallery on Main Street. Be there, eight o’clock. Got it?”
Josie sighed lightly, her free hand toying with the strap of her handbag. “Yes, sir.”
“Look, Josie,” the man continued, his tone softening slightly. “This is going to be huge for the bakery. Let’s make it a night to remember, yeah?”
“Of course,” Josie said, her voice warm but distracted. “I’ll see you there.”
She hung up, slipping her phone back into her bag before glancing briefly at her surroundings. Then, with a purpose to her step, she headed down the street, her figure quickly swallowed by the sea of passersby.
Hope stood motionless on the sidewalk, watching her go.
A night to remember.
The words echoed in Hope’s mind, twisting into something that left her unsettled. There was no anger in her now, no seething jealousy for the life Josie seemed to be building. Only longing—deep, unbearable longing that Hope had no idea how to quench.
Every instinct told her to turn away, to disappear into the night the way she always did. She had spent five years keeping herself at a distance, convincing herself that watching Josie from afar was enough. That it was all she deserved.
But tonight?
Tonight, she wanted more.
Hope’s hands curled into fists at her sides as she set her jaw. Her resolve hardened.
She would go to that gallery. She would face Josie Saltzman.
And she would finally tell her the truth—no matter what it cost her.
Eight o’clock couldn’t come fast enough. Hope had spent most of the afternoon by the water, perched on a weathered bench, staring at the waves as if they held some secret power to speed up time. But even as a tribrid, bending time wasn’t in her arsenal. She had nothing to do but wait—wait and wrestle with the storm in her chest.
When the hour finally arrived, she walked down Main Street, her sharp eyes scanning for the gallery. It wasn’t hard to find. A throng of well-dressed people surrounded the building, the air alive with laughter, conversation, and clinking glasses. Hope’s boots scuffed against the pavement as she wove through the crowd, ignoring their pointed looks. She wasn’t dressed for the occasion, and she wasn’t here for the art.
Art.
The thought almost made her laugh. Once, she might have admired the paintings hanging outside, connecting with them like she used to with her father. He had taught her to see beauty in chaos, in bold strokes and raw emotion. But tonight, there was only one masterpiece she cared about.
Josette Saltzman.
Inside, the noise swallowed her. Voices rose and fell, glasses clinked, and the air hummed with warmth and celebration. Hope scanned the room, her heart pounding in her chest like a war drum. And then she saw her.
Five years hadn’t dulled her beauty; if anything, it had only made her more breathtaking. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the light, and her smile—bright, genuine—lit up the room in a way that made Hope’s breath hitch.
For a moment, Hope faltered, her steps slowing as she stared. She had dreamed of this moment for so long, rehearsed what she would say a thousand times. But standing here, so close yet still out of reach, her mind felt like a blank canvas.
She couldn’t approach her—not like this, not with all these people around. With a subtle flick of her wrist, Hope worked her magic.
In the blink of an eye, Josie was gone from the crowded lobby, and they were on the rooftop.
Josie stumbled as her heels clicked against the concrete, catching herself with a startled gasp. She turned sharply, her eyes wide with confusion, until they locked on Hope.
“You…” Josie breathed, her voice soft but tinged with surprise. Her hands clasped together, her thumbs fidgeting nervously.
“And you,” Hope replied, her voice steadier than she felt.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Hope had prepared an entire speech, a confession crafted from years of unspoken feelings, but the words crumbled the second Josie’s gaze met hers.
“I don’t understand. Is everything okay? Is… is everyone okay?” Josie’s voice was laced with worry, her first instinct to assume danger.
Hope’s lips twitched into a small, bittersweet smile. Of course, Josie would think of others first. That kindness, that selflessness—it was one of the countless reasons Hope loved her.
“They’re fine,” Hope assured her, stepping closer, though her heart raced with each movement. “Everyone’s fine.”
“Then what’s this about?” Josie asked, her voice softer now, cautious but curious.
Hope hesitated, her fingers brushing the cool metal railing at the edge of the roof. She needed to say it, needed to release the words that had been clawing at her throat for years. But how could she, when the fear of losing Josie forever loomed so close?
“You ever think about how long we’ve been like this, Jo?” Hope asked instead, her voice low, almost reflective. She passed Josie, resting her forearms on the railing and staring out over the glittering city below. “Always settling. Always waiting for the next disaster to come crashing into our lives, pretending we’re okay when we’re barely holding it together.”
Josie let out a small, confused sound—not quite a laugh, more like a question wrapped in hesitation. She moved closer, her fingertips brushing the railing as if grounding herself. Hope noticed the gesture out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t look at her. She couldn’t, not yet.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Josie said softly. She tilted her head back to look at the stars, her voice quieter now, unsure. “Things are good here, Hope. They’re… they’re right.”
Hope’s lips twitched into a humorless smile. Lie. She heard it in Josie’s voice, the faint quiver she couldn’t quite mask.
“And you’re happy?” Hope asked, her tone sharp, the words cutting like glass. “Drinking bad cocktails, laughing at jokes that don’t land, pretending you fit in with people who don’t know anything about the real you—who you are, what you’re capable of?”
Josie gasped, her wide eyes snapping to Hope’s face. “I…” Josie stammered, her voice barely audible. “I can live a normal life here.”
Hope turned to face her then, their fingers inches apart on the railing. The warmth of Josie’s presence, so close and so tangible, sent a shiver through Hope’s entire being.
“Is normal what you really want?” Hope asked, her voice soft now, her vulnerability bleeding through the cracks in her carefully built walls.
Josie didn’t answer. She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing as her gaze dropped to their hands. Slowly, tentatively, her fingers moved closer, brushing against Hope’s. The touch was so light, so fleeting, but it sent a bolt of electricity through Hope’s veins.
“What do you want?” Josie whispered, her voice trembling as her hand finally settled over Hope’s.
Hope stared at the delicate overlap of their fingers, her breath catching in her chest. She raised her eyes to meet Josie’s, and for the first time, she allowed the truth to slip free.
“You,” she said, her voice breaking slightly, raw and unguarded. “It’s always been you, Josie.”
Josie’s lips parted in a soft gasp, her eyes wide with something unreadable—hope, fear, maybe even love. And for the first time, Hope allowed herself to believe that, maybe, this moment could be hers.
“But it’s not about what I want anymore, Jo. It’s what I need.”
Hope stepped forward, the faint clink of her boots against the rooftop’s concrete echoing in the silence between them. Her toes brushed against the tips of Josie’s black heels, closing the space until there was nowhere for Josie to escape.
Josie opened her mouth to speak, her lips parting as though searching for words, but Hope shook her head, her voice soft yet firm. “No. Don’t say anything. Not yet.”
Hope’s hand lifted slowly, trembling ever so slightly as her fingers reached Josie’s face. She cupped her chin with the gentleness of someone holding a fragile piece of glass, guiding Josie’s gaze to meet her own.
“Just listen to me first,” Hope whispered, her tone raw, vulnerable—a confession stripped of all pretense. “I love you, Josie Saltzman. I love you. Deeply. Unconditionally. In ways I never thought I’d be capable of loving anyone.”
Josie’s breath hitched, her chest rising and falling in uneven rhythms. Her eyes widened, glassy with unshed tears, and Hope didn’t dare look away. She couldn’t—not now.
“The day you left…” Hope’s voice cracked, and she swallowed hard, forcing the words out like they’d been locked behind her ribs for years. “The day you walked away, I lost the last good thing in my life. The last bit of peace I ever had.”
Josie’s hand twitched at her side, as if she wanted to reach for her, to comfort her, but she didn’t move. A single tear slipped down Josie’s cheek, silent and unbidden. Hope caught it with her thumb, wiping it away with a touch that lingered a moment too long.
“I can’t do this anymore, Jo,” Hope continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t take another five years of watching you from the shadows—pretending I don’t need you, pretending I’m fine when every second without you feels like a lifetime.”
She leaned forward then, her forehead brushing against Josie’s as her breath stuttered, uneven and desperate. Her hands, still trembling, moved to cradle Josie’s face completely, as if anchoring her there, grounding them both.
“Tell me to leave,” Hope murmured, her words trembling against the space between them. “Tell me to walk away, and I swear, I will. I’ll leave you to this normal life you’ve built. I’ll disappear from your world like I was never here.”
Josie’s breath faltered, her lashes damp with tears now, her silence speaking louder than words.
“But if any part of you wants what I want..” Hope shook her head against Josie’s, her voice cracking as the weight of her confession hung heavy between them. “My heart aches for you every day, Jo. Every night. It’s yours—it’s always been yours.”
Josie’s lips parted as if she might speak, and Hope’s heart stilled, the world narrowing to just this moment. She tilted her head back slightly, her eyes scanning Josie’s face with desperate precision—searching for a sign, for permission, for anything that would tell her Josie wanted this too. She needed to know. She couldn’t breathe without knowing.
Josie looked torn, her brows knitting together like she was fighting against something unsaid. Hope’s pulse thundered in her ears, her own breaths shallow, uneven. Just when Hope thought the silence might break her entirely, Josie moved.
With a sudden, breathtaking resolve, Josie’s hands lifted to Hope’s face, her touch tentative but warm, like she was afraid this moment might shatter if she wasn’t careful.
Hope’s breath hitched as Josie’s fingers framed her cheeks, her thumbs grazing over the line of her jaw. For a heartbeat, they just stood there—Josie’s eyes flickering down to Hope’s lips, hesitation mingling with something deeper, something raw and unmistakable.
And then, Josie. closed the distance.
Their lips met, soft at first, hesitant, like two people testing the waters of something too precious to ruin. Hope’s eyes fluttered shut, her body freezing as the realization hit her all at once—this was real. This was happening.
And then it wasn’t enough.
Hope moved instinctively, a quiet sound of longing escaping her as her arms wrapped around Josie’s waist, pulling her in, holding her close—closer. She held her as tightly as she dared, her tribrid strength kept carefully in check, though every part of her screamed to pull Josie even further into her embrace, to make this moment last forever.
The kiss deepened, the hesitation fading into something electric, something all-consuming. Hope poured every unspoken word, every ache, every year of longing into the way her lips moved against Josie’s, like she could communicate everything she’d never been able to say.
Sparks ignited in her veins, racing through her like wildfire, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Hope felt alive. Her hand slipped up Josie’s back, tangling in her hair, her touch reverent as if she couldn’t believe Josie was really here—that this was real.
When they finally broke apart, both of them breathless, Hope kept her arms remained around Josie’s body, unwilling to let go just yet.
Josie’s breaths came in soft, uneven gasps, her fingers lingering on Hope’s face as if she, too, couldn’t bear to pull away. She didn’t speak, not yet, but when she opened her eyes, there was no mistaking the way they shone—no mistaking the love, the longing, the relief written plainly in her expression.
Hope stared back, her heart pounding as if it might break through her chest. She was afraid to speak, afraid to move, afraid to do anything that might shatter this perfect moment.
But then Josie smiled—soft, vulnerable, like a sunrise breaking through a storm.
“I love you, Hope Mikaelson.”
Hope froze, the words reverberating in her mind, through her very soul.
Josie’s voice was steady now, her gaze unwavering as she continued, her thumb brushing gently along the line of Hope’s cheek. “Always and forever.”
It was those words—always and forever—that broke something in Hope. Her chest tightened as tears welled in her eyes, the weight of years of silence, of loneliness, of unspoken love, finally lifting.
“Josie…” Hope whispered, her voice cracking as she let her forehead fall against Josie’s again. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume her. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”
Josie laughed softly, though tears shimmered in her own eyes. “I think I do. Because I’ve wanted to say it for just as long.”
Hope opened her eyes then, blinking away her tears as she cupped Josie’s face with both hands. She smiled, small but genuine, her voice trembling. “You have no idea what you’re signing up for.”
“I think I do,” Josie whispered, mirroring Hope’s words from before. Her hands came to rest on Hope’s wrists, her touch grounding, steady. “And I’m not afraid.”