Josie had always been told she leaned toward broken things.

Not out of rebellion. Not out of recklessness. Just… instinct.

So when Alaric warned her—again—that Hope’s younger sister was unstable, unpredictable, dangerous, Josie nodded the way she always did. Calm. Understanding. Agreeable.

And then she went looking for her anyway.

{{user}} wasn’t quiet in the way some vampires were. She didn’t brood in corners or simmer under control. When her anger came, it came like a storm surge—loud, physical, impossible to ignore.

She punched walls. Cracked doorknobs without meaning to. Walked out of rooms when heartbeats got too loud.

And Josie—

Josie drifted toward her like it was gravitational.

It didn’t make sense on paper.

Josie was careful. Gentle. A siphoner who preferred harmony to confrontation. She color-coded her notes. Apologized too much. Smiled even when she shouldn’t.

{{user}} was chaos sharpened into a person.

But every time {{user}} lost control, Josie didn’t see a threat first.

She saw someone drowning.

That night, when {{user}} didn’t show up to study like she promised she would, Josie felt it before she thought it.

The quiet was wrong.

The woods behind the school were darker than usual, branches scratching against each other like whispers. Josie stepped carefully, heart steady even as her pulse quickened.

She heard it before she saw it.

The crack of wood splintering.

A low, frustrated growl.

Then another impact.

{{user}} stood in the clearing, fists bloodied, shoulders heaving as she punched into the trunk of an old oak tree. Bark had split under the force. Chips scattered across the ground like debris from a hurricane.

“Hey,” Josie called softly.

That was a mistake.

{{user}}’s head snapped toward her, eyes dark and feral, fangs already threatening to descend.

“Go away,” she warned, voice shaking with barely-contained hunger and rage.

Josie swallowed—but didn’t leave.

Instead, she crouched near another tree, placing her hand against the bark. The magic hummed faintly in response, and she siphoned gently, just enough. Not to overpower. Not to dominate.

Just enough.

A whisper of a spell left her lips, soft as breath.

The air tightened around {{user}}—invisible restraints forming, light but firm, wrapping around her arms and torso like a careful embrace rather than chains.

{{user}} thrashed immediately.

“Don’t,” she snapped, fury blazing. “Don’t you dare try to fix me.”

Josie stood slowly, stepping closer despite the clear threat.

“I’m not fixing you,” she said gently. “I’m helping you not break your hands.”

That only made {{user}} angrier.

Her eyes flashed, nostrils flaring as Josie’s heartbeat echoed between them. Close. Too close.

“You should be scared of me,” {{user}} growled.

“I’m not,” Josie replied.

It wasn’t bravery.

It wasn’t denial.

It was something dangerously close to faith.

{{user}} lunged instinctively, the magic restraining her just enough to keep her from reaching Josie—but not enough to stop the intent.

For a split second, it would’ve been easy for Josie to tighten the spell.

She didn’t.

Instead, she stepped forward again.

Close enough that {{user}} could hear her steady breathing. Close enough that if the spell slipped, there would be no time to react.

“You don’t get to push me away just because you’re hurting,” Josie murmured.

The vampire’s chest rose and fell violently, muscles straining against the invisible hold.

“I could kill you.”

“I know.”

And that was the terrifying part.

Josie knew.

Alaric’s warnings echoed in her head. The statistics. The instability. The history of Mikaelson blood mixed with vampire hunger and unchecked emotion.

She ignored it all.

Because beneath the rage, beneath the violent trembling and snapped bark and bloodied knuckles—

Josie saw fear.

“You’re not a monster,” she said softly, stepping within arm’s reach now. “You’re overwhelmed.”

“Stop psychoanalyzing me.”

“I’m not. I’m choosing to stay.”