Katherine Pierce never asked for help—she recruited it.

You found that out the hard way when she appeared at your door, uninvited, wine glass in hand and a look in her eyes that meant chaos was coming.

“Don’t look so nervous,” she said, sweeping past you like she owned the place. “If I wanted you dead, you’d already be bleeding.”

You folded your arms. “Comforting. What do you want?”

She turned, smirking. “Klaus.”

Just the name made the air feel heavier. Everyone in the supernatural world knew better than to cross him—everyone except her.

“I’m putting together a plan,” she said, pacing the room. “Something clever, something he’ll never see coming. And I need someone smart, someone reckless enough to pull it off. Congratulations, darling. That’s you.”

You hesitated. “Why me?”

“Because you’re not afraid of me,” she said simply. “And because you’ve lost enough to hate him too.”