You should’ve turned back the second the thunder rolled in—but something pulled you there. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was Damon.

He was alone in the library when you arrived, the room dim, the fire casting gold across his face. He didn’t look surprised to see you—just amused.

“You always come when it’s dark,” he said, swirling the bourbon in his glass. “You know that means something, right?”

You crossed your arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Damon leaned against the desk, cocking his head. “That you’re either brave… or looking for trouble.” His eyes locked onto yours, sharp and unreadable. “So which one is it tonight?”

“I want to know what you’re hiding,” you said, stepping closer. “About Katherine. About why you’re really here.”

He laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. “Everyone wants the truth, until they hear it.”

“Try me.”

He was in front of you in a second—too close, his presence overwhelming. “She broke me,” he said, voice low. “Turned me into something I can’t undo. And every time I look at you, I see her shadow… and I hate it.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t step back. “I’m not her.”

“No,” Damon whispered, “you’re worse.”

“Why?”

“Because you make me want to be better. And I don’t know if I can survive that.”

The silence between you cracked like lightning in the storm outside.

And then… he stepped back. Like he was afraid of what would happen if he stayed.