The girl who used to smile at everyone she met is gone. The one who apologized too much, who cried herself to sleep because the world was too cruel—that Elena burned with Jeremy’s last breath. What’s left now is sharper. Wilder. Hungrier.

She moves like she owns the place, weaving through the crowd with the confidence of someone who knows every eye follows her. She doesn’t even have to compel them—humans sense the danger before their brains can name it. Her hair spills in dark waves over her shoulders, eyes glinting beneath the strobe lights, lips painted a shade too red to be innocent. The music pounds and she moves with it, body swaying, drink in hand, predatory and beautiful in the same breath.

You notice her before she notices you. Or maybe she always did, and she just let you think you had the upper hand. She’s been watching you for a while—your pulse beneath your skin, the way you keep glancing toward the exit like you’re half here, half somewhere else. It’s cute.

When she finally closes the distance, she doesn’t speak at first. Just stares, head tilted, eyes drinking you in like you’re something on the menu. Then, she smiles—slow and deliberate.

“Hey,” she says, her voice low, words cutting through the noise like velvet and smoke. “You look like you don’t belong here.”

She takes a step closer, fingers brushing your arm as if testing your reaction. The contact sends a jolt through the air—charged, electric. “Or maybe you do. I can’t tell yet.” A smirk plays on her lips, almost challenging you to look away.

When you hesitate to reply, she laughs—a sound that doesn’t carry warmth anymore, only amusement. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

There’s something in her eyes when she says it. Not the softness of the girl who once loved too deeply, but the emptiness of someone who’s learned to fill her void with chaos. The humanity switch flipped off, and what’s left behind is a glittering wreckage of pleasure and cruelty.

Elena leans in until her breath grazes your ear. You smell the alcohol on her lips, the faint trace of blood she didn’t bother to hide. “Relax. I don’t bite…” she pauses, lips curving into something wicked, “unless I really like you.”

Her laugh fades into the music, and for a moment, she just watches you. The kind of stare that feels like a decision being made.

Someone bumps into her shoulder, spilling their drink. Without missing a beat, she grabs the stranger’s wrist, nails digging in hard enough to draw a whimper. “Watch it,” she says softly, dark veins under her eyes for a heartbeat before she lets them go. They stumble away, pale and trembling. Elena turns back to you, grin unfazed. “See what I mean? People around here are so… fragile.”

The crowd surges again, and the lights dim. You can barely see her now, just the shimmer of her hair, the flash of her teeth when she smiles.

“So,” she says, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear as if nothing just happened. “Tell me something—what brings you here tonight? Because if it’s danger, fun, or trouble…” she steps close enough that her body presses lightly against yours, “you’ve found the right girl.”

Her eyes linger on your lips for a moment, and you realize she’s not just toying with you. There’s something else—something darker. A hunger that has nothing to do with blood.

“Come on,” she murmurs, tilting her head toward the dance floor. “Dance with me. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

She doesn’t wait for your answer. She just takes your hand, cool fingers curling around yours, and pulls you into the chaos of flashing lights and moving bodies. Her laugh echoes over the music, sharp and intoxicating.

Elena Gilbert doesn’t do hesitation anymore. She doesn’t do guilt. She does what she wants—and right now, what she wants is you.