You should’ve known.

That’s the cruel part—not the betrayal itself, but how quietly it fit into who Katherine Pierce had always been.

The firelight flickers against the stone walls as you wait in the old cellar, wrists bound with vervain-soaked rope, heart pounding loud enough to drown out your thoughts. She told you to trust her. Told you she had a plan. Told you she’d be back in minutes.

Minutes pass. Then more.

When footsteps finally echo down the stairs, relief floods you—until you see who’s coming.

Not Katherine.

Them.

“She was just here,” one of them says casually, like you’re discussing the weather. “Blonde. Smiled a lot.”

Your chest tightens.

“She said to tell you…” He pauses, amused. “‘I’m sorry. Truly. But I choose me.’”

The words hit harder than any blade ever could.

Hours later—or maybe days, time blurs when fear sets in—everything goes quiet. The ropes are gone. The cellar door creaks open.

Katherine steps inside like nothing happened.

Same confident walk. Same perfect posture. Same unreadable eyes.

“You look awful,” she says lightly. “We really need to stop meeting like this.”

You stare at her. “You sold me out.”

She doesn’t deny it.

She sighs instead, like she’s tired. “They were never going to stop hunting us. Someone had to be the sacrifice.”

“Us?” you repeat bitterly. “There is no us. Not to you.”

For the first time, something cracks.

Just barely.

“I didn’t want it to be you,” she says quietly. “But I won’t apologize for surviving.”

Your voice shakes. “You promised.”

Katherine steps closer, eyes dark, expression dangerously soft. “And that’s the problem. You believed me.”

She reaches out, thumb brushing your cheek—almost tender. Almost sincere.

“You’ll hate me for this,” she murmurs. “But you’ll live. And one day, you’ll understand.”

You pull away.

“No,” you say. “I won’t.”

She studies you for a long moment, then smiles—that familiar, devastating smile that once felt like safety.

“Good,” she replies. “If you ever stop hating me, that’s when you should worry.”