The patience of Damon Salvatore had a very short fuse, and you had just cut it with surgical precision. His eyes darkened, shifting from that mocking blue to a shade nearly black with rage. He wasn’t going to keep arguing—not when he had the physical advantage and a car fast enough to get you out of Mystic Falls before you could even finish your next sentence.

—"I’ve had just about enough of your little rebellion for one day," Damon growled.

Before you could take a step back, he moved with vampire speed. The world blurred, and suddenly, you felt the weight of his shoulder pressing into your stomach. He had tossed you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. Despite your protests and your fists drumming against his leather jacket, Damon marched toward the '69 Camaro with a terrifying calmness, completely ignoring your resistance.

He yanked the passenger door open, dropped you onto the leather seat, and before you could even reach for the handle, he slammed it shut and locked it. A second later, he was behind the wheel, the engine roaring to life, drowning out any further argument.

—"Buckle up," he ordered, shifting into gear and flooring the gas. He wasn't taking you home. The car was headed toward the outskirts of town, toward the ruins of Fell’s Church—the very site where the tomb of the 1864 vampires lay hidden. Damon gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. If you wanted to play brave and defy him, he was going to show you exactly what he was protecting... or exactly what he was willing to do to keep you "safe," even if it was against your will.