Pain. That’s all there was. Fire burning through your veins, every heartbeat a scream. The werewolf bite was spreading fast, its poison crawling toward your heart like ice. You staggered through the woods, desperate, the night spinning around you—until you collapsed.

And then, a voice. Smooth, ancient, dangerous.

“Well, well,” he drawled. “What a pity. Such beauty, wasted on such a foolish end.”

You looked up through the haze, and there he was—Klaus Mikaelson. The Hybrid. The monster everyone warned you about. His eyes glowed gold in the moonlight, but there was something else in them too—curiosity.

You tried to speak, but the words came out as a choked whisper. “Help… me…”

He crouched beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your face with unnerving gentleness. “A werewolf bite is quite the unpleasant way to die. Trust me, I’ve seen it more times than I care to count.”

You gritted your teeth as another wave of agony hit. “Then… you know how to stop it.”

Klaus smiled faintly, sharp and amused. “I do indeed. The cure runs in my veins.”

“Then why—”

“Why should I save you?” he finished for you, tilting his head. “You’re not of my blood, not of my pack. What makes you so special, love?”