The night air is thick with smoke and the scent of blood. Trees blur past as you race through the darkened forest, your feet crunching against fallen leaves and broken twigs. The flickering glow of torches behind you—the only sign that your enemies are still closing in.

“We have to move, now!” Damon growls, glancing over his shoulder. “We don’t have time for this—”

But you’ve already stopped.

Klaus is on the ground, his back against a jagged rock, breathing hard. His face is paler than you’ve ever seen it, a sheen of sweat on his brow. And there—just inches from his heart—is half of a white oak stake, buried deep in his chest.

Your breath catches.

Kneeling in front of him, you reach out instinctively, your fingers trembling as they hover over the splintered wood. It’s close—too close—a fraction deeper, and it would’ve been over for him.

“We have to go!” Stefan’s voice is sharp, impatient. You can hear the others shifting behind you, the unspoken agreement clear: leave him.

“He’s not going to make it,” Katherine murmurs, arms crossed. “Not with that in him.”

“She’s right,” Elijah says, but his voice is laced with something softer, almost reluctant. “Even if we get him out of here, he won’t be able to fight.”

Klaus exhales sharply, his lips twisting into something like a smirk despite the pain. “Go on, then,” he rasps, voice rough. “Run along and leave me for dead.”

You don’t move.

You just stare at him. At the stake. At the blood seeping through his torn shirt, the way his fingers are curled into the dirt. The way he looks at you, as if he expects you to leave too.

“Are you serious?” Caroline asks, exasperated. “You’re really gonna risk all our lives for him?”

“If we pull it out now, he’ll bleed out before we even get him on his feet,” Bonnie warns.

Elena hesitates. “We don’t have time for this. If we don’t leave now, we all die.”

You glance up at them, your heart pounding, your heart trembling. “Then go.”