The headlights cut through the quiet stretch of road leading into Mystic Falls, trees crowding in on either side. Malcolm’s hands rested loosely on the wheel, his mind already on the plan: feed, clean up, and disappear before anyone had time to notice.
He wasn’t here for anything more than that.
But then he heard it — faint, even with his windows up — the thrum of bass, the faint pop of a campfire, and the warm, unmistakable scent of human blood drifting on the wind. He slowed, easing the car toward the glow in the distance.
The bonfire came into view like something out of a postcard — music spilling from cheap speakers, laughter rising over the crackle of firewood. Teenagers everywhere. Too easy. Too predictable.
And then he saw her.
A blonde in a fitted jacket, drink in hand, scanning the crowd with a bright smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Caroline Forbes.
Her gaze caught on someone across the flames — tall, dark hair, that brooding expression Malcolm had seen a thousand times in his kind. Stefan Salvatore. When Stefan’s attention shifted to the brunette beside him — Elena Gilbert — Caroline’s smile faltered. Just for a second. Then her chin lifted, shoulders squaring as if daring anyone to notice the sting.
Malcolm did.
He watched her down the rest of her drink, set the cup aside, and push through the crowd toward a dark-haired friend — Bonnie, he’d overheard someone call her. The two of them exchanged a look, and Caroline laughed a little too brightly.
Not prey, Malcolm thought. Not tonight. There was too much life in her eyes, even when she was hiding the crack in her armor.
Hours later, after Vicki’s attack had left the town humming with whispers, Malcolm spotted her again outside the Mystic Grill. The streetlamps caught in her hair, turning it into threads of gold against the dark. She was walking fast, that same restless energy in every step.
Inside, she slid into a booth across from Bonnie, the kind of slump that said I’m fine but meant the opposite.
“…never being the one,” she was saying, frustration laced in every syllable. “It’s always Elena. Every guy, every crush — it’s like I’m just here to make her look better.”
Bonnie frowned. “That’s not true.”
“Please,” Caroline scoffed, tossing her hair back but blinking a little too much. “Stefan barely notices I’m alive. Not that I care. I don’t.” She stabbed at her fries. “It’s just—whatever. I just want one thing, for once, that’s mine.”
Malcolm sat in the booth behind them, not listening to her words so much as the fire in her voice, the way she tried to bury the hurt under layers of bravado. Hunger shifted to curiosity, the pull of something far more interesting than blood.
When they finally left, he stayed in the shadows outside until Bonnie headed toward her car and Caroline started down the sidewalk alone.
He stepped forward. “Evening.”
She startled slightly before her gaze landed on him — tall, tailored coat, that faintly amused smile.
“Uh… hi?” she said, brows knitting as she tried to place him.
“You look like you could use a ride.” He leaned against the sleek black car parked at the curb, casual but deliberate. “Unless you’re set on walking home in heels.”
She glanced at the car, then back at him. “Do I know you?”
“Not yet.” His smile deepened. “Malcolm.”
“…Caroline.” Her voice softened, wary but intrigued.
“Caroline,” he repeated, as if tasting the sound. “Beautiful name.”
There was the faintest tug of compulsion in his tone, just enough to tilt her hesitation toward trust. “Come on. Just a ride.”
She hesitated for one heartbeat more — then shrugged. “Okay. But I’m not usually in the habit of getting into cars with strangers.”
“Then it’s good I won’t be a stranger for long.”
When she slid into the passenger seat, he caught the faintest trace of her perfume — bright, floral, alive. As he drove, he asked her small things. Names. Places she liked to go. Music she kept on repeat. And when she answered, he remembered. All of it.
He hadn’t planned to stay in Mystic Falls. But after he dropped her off he knew he wasn’t leaving.