The once-great king of the French Quarter now stood alone, banished across the river from his former domain. Marcel Gerard's exile was the result of betrayal-by the Guerrera wolves, by Klaus Mikaelson, and most painfully, by Elijah Mikaelson. Now, far from the comforts of the Quarter he once ruled, Marcel was driven by one singular desire: revenge.

The old warehouse had been converted into a makeshift home, a place that felt as cold and empty as Marcel himself. The walls were bare, save for a few personal items-a small collection of mementos from his time as king-and the dim light from a single lamp flickered on the floor, casting long shadows against the brick. He was a king without a throne, plotting the downfall of those who had wronged him.

When Faye Hart arrived, her presence was almost imperceptible in the dark, her steps light but deliberate. She had come at Marcel's request, though it had taken some convincing. Marcel, ever the opportunist, knew that his best chance to return to power would be by allying himself with someone as powerful as Faye.

He looked up as she entered, his eyes glinting with a mixture of frustration and hope. He stood from his seat, his imposing figure almost a shadow in the dim light.

"Faye," Marcel greeted, though his voice lacked the warmth of genuine welcome. "I'm glad you came."

Faye didn't bother with pleasantries. "You've wasted my time already, Marcel. Let's get to the point."

Marcel smirked, seemingly unfazed by her directness. "You're just as blunt as ever," he said, though there was an edge to his tone. "I need your help. The Guerrera wolves have stripped me of my power. The Mikaelsons have exiled me. I've been kicked out of my own city, and now I'm stuck here, a nobody. I want revenge. And I want my throne back. You can help me take down Klaus, Elijah, and those damn wolves."

Faye raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp and calculating. "Revenge? You're still holding onto that? I thought you were smarter than that, Marcel."

His expression darkened, the weight of his desire for vengeance clear in his eyes. "It's not just about revenge. It's about reclaiming what's mine. The Quarter. The power I once had. And I'll do whatever it takes to get it back."

Faye crossed her arms, her posture relaxed yet commanding. "You want power, huh? You think that asking me for help is going to solve all your problems?" She studied him for a moment, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Marcel, power is not something you get handed on a silver platter. If you want something, you take it. But be prepared for the cost. Everything has a price, and it's never as easy as you think."

Marcel's jaw tightened. "I'm done waiting. I've played nice long enough. I've tried to work with the Mikaelsons, but they took everything from me. Now, I'm taking it back."

Faye's eyes darkened slightly. "If you're going to do this, you'll need more than just magic and muscle. You'll need resolve. You'll need to be willing to sacrifice everything to win. Because when you go up against the Mikaelsons, you're not just fighting for the Quarter. You're fighting for your life."

Marcel's frustration bubbled up, his fist tightening as he stared at her. "That's exactly what I'm willing to do. I'm not afraid of them. Not anymore."

Faye looked at him, her gaze piercing. "I didn't come here to play your game, Marcel. I don't involve myself in petty fights, not for revenge. But if you truly want to destroy Klaus and Elijah, then it's not magic you need. It's ruthlessness. You have to be willing to take them on, without hesitation. Without mercy. And if you can't do that-then you're just going to end up as another footnote in their long history."

Marcel's temper flared. "I'm not backing down, Faye. I will take them down. With or without your help."

Faye let out a low chuckle, her voice laced with an eerie calm. "I didn't think you would. But you're on your own for this. If you really want to fight them, then fight. Don't wait for anyone to hand you the power you think you deserve."

Just as the words hung in the air, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. Faye didn't flinch, her senses already sharp enough to know who was coming.

A moment later, Elijah Mikaelson appeared in the doorway, his presence unmistakable. He surveyed the room, his sharp eyes landing on Faye, and then to Marcel.

Faye's lips barely curled into a smile at the sight of Elijah. "Elijah. How predictable."

Elijah didn't move closer. His gaze stayed fixed on her, a mix of wariness and curiosity in his expression. "Faye, what are you doing here?"

Faye dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "It's none of your business, Elijah," she replied coolly, her tone dripping with indifference. "I'm not here to answer your questions."

Elijah's brow furrowed, and his voice became steely. "I thought we'd been through this. Why are you involving yourself with Marcel? You know the kind of trouble he's caused. What are you really after?"

Faye stood tall, her posture regal as always. "I'm not after anything, Elijah. I'm just here to talk to Marcel, and that's it.He's asking for my help, but I'm under no obligation to give it."

Marcel stepped forward, the tension in his stance undeniable. "You have a problem with that, Elijah? You're not the one I need help from."

Faye's eyes flickered toward Marcel, and then back at Elijah. "I suggest you mind your own business," she said coldly. "I've already warned Marcel. He's on a dangerous path, and he's doing it without thinking. But that's his choice, not mine."

Elijah's gaze never left her, his voice low. "You've made your choice, Faye. You always have."

Faye smirked slightly. "Oh, believe me, I have. And I'll live with the consequences, just as you'll live with yours."

The air between them thickened with unspoken tension. Marcel shot Elijah a venomous glare, then turned back to Faye. "I'll do whatever it takes. I don't care about your warnings."

Faye nodded once, her eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and something darker. "Then do it, Marcel. Do it, and see where it takes you. But don't say I didn't warn you. The Mikaelsons are not a force to be reckoned with."

Without another word, Faye turned on her heel, her long cloak swirling around her as she left the room. She didn't look back, but her words lingered in the air like an omen.

Elijah stood where he was, watching her leave with a frown on his face. "She's playing a game of her own," he muttered under his breath, glancing back at Marcel. "And she's not the only one."

The evening air was heavy with the smell of damp earth and the soft buzz of the city. Inside a small, dimly lit café tucked away from the hustle and bustle, Faye Hart sat alone. Her presence was almost ethereal-like a storm waiting to break. The café was cozy, with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and pastries lingering in the air. It wasn't her usual haunt, but sometimes, she preferred to be in places where no one would find her, not even someone like Elijah Mikaelson.

But then, as the door opened with a soft chime, she saw him: Elijah. His tall, imposing figure entered, his sharp eyes scanning the room until they landed on her. He moved with the grace and intent of someone who wasn't used to being ignored. And Faye wasn't about to make it easy for him.

She didn't acknowledge him immediately. Instead, she sipped from her coffee cup, deliberately slow, keeping her gaze fixed on the window. She could feel his approach before he even spoke, the weight of his presence undeniable.

"Elijah," she said coolly, still not meeting his eyes. "I thought I might have a little peace tonight."

He took a seat across from her without waiting for permission. His posture was stiff, his expression tight. "We need to talk."

Faye set the cup down with a soft clink, her eyes now lifting to meet his. There was a hint of amusement in her gaze, but it was laced with something far darker. "Do we, Elijah? I thought I made myself clear. I don't owe you any explanations."

He didn't flinch. "I'm not here for explanations. I'm here to talk about Marcel." His voice dropped, the mention of Marcel obviously fueling his irritation. "You're aligning yourself with him, after everything he's done to my family. Do you know what he took from us? Do you understand the gravity of his betrayal?"

Faye leaned back in her chair, folding her arms as she stared at him, unblinking. "Betrayal? Really?" she asked, her voice low but sharp. "You think Marcel betrayed you?"

Elijah's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You're forgetting what he did. He took control of the French Quarter. He turned on us. He manipulated my brother. He-"

Faye cut him off with a wave of her hand, her tone almost dismissive. "No, Elijah. You're forgetting what you and your family did to him."

Elijah stiffened, his brows furrowing. "What are you talking about?"

Faye's eyes turned cold. "Marcel was a child in his own way when you and your family left New Orleans. You abandoned him. Left him to die. He had to survive on his own, doing whatever it took to protect himself and grow his power. And you think he owes you loyalty?"

Elijah's voice hardened. "He was raised by us. He was family. And yet, he betrayed that bond."

Faye's laugh was humorless, almost bitter. "Family?" She leaned forward, her eyes piercing. "Don't make me laugh. The Mikaelsons never treated Marcel like family. You gave him nothing but empty promises. You never gave him the respect he deserved. You never treated him as an equal. You let him believe he was a part of something, but that was just your control over him."

Elijah's gaze flickered for a moment, but he quickly masked any hint of doubt. "He turned on us. He's caused chaos. Do you truly believe he did all that without any reason?"

Faye stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. Her eyes burned with intensity, and her tone was cutting. "Oh, I believe he had plenty of reasons. You weren't there. You didn't see him fighting for his life, scrapping to survive in a city that was once yours. You abandoned him to a fate worse than death, Elijah. And now you want him to bend to your will like some loyal dog?"

She walked slowly around the table, her presence commanding. "The problem, Elijah, is that you and your family think you can dictate everything. The 'Original Vampires,' as you like to call yourselves. You think just because you were the first, you deserve to be treated like kings, even after centuries of mistakes, manipulation, and betrayal."

She stopped in front of him, her gaze hard and unforgiving. "You've been on the run for so long that you've forgotten how the world works now. You don't have the same power anymore. Not like you once did. You've lost your grip on this city. The world has moved on, and it's time for the Mikaelsons to realize that. You can't keep holding onto power just because of your bloodline. The truth is, you've created your own troubles. You've always created your own troubles."

Elijah's fists clenched under the table, and his jaw set, but Faye's words were like a sharp knife, cutting deep into the illusions he had held onto for so long.

"Marcel's no saint," Faye continued, her voice softer now, but still firm. "But he isn't the monster you want him to be. He's just a product of your family's neglect. And if you really think that the Mikaelsons can just waltz back in and reclaim what you think you're owed-well, you're fooling yourselves."

Elijah exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing as he absorbed her words. He looked away for a moment, lost in thought. Faye could see the conflict in him, the layers of doubt beginning to surface, but it was clear he wouldn't admit it.

"You really believe that, don't you?" Elijah asked, his voice quiet now, almost weary.

"I do," Faye replied, her gaze unwavering. "I believe it because I've seen it. I've seen what your family does. How they destroy everything in their path, and when they're left with nothing, they blame others. But the truth is, Elijah, your family's reign is over. And whether you want to accept it or not, it's time for the world to move on from the Mikaelsons."

Elijah's eyes hardened again, his expression cold. "You've made your position clear. But you should remember one thing, Faye." He stood up slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. "The Mikaelsons may not be what they once were, but they will come for you if you stand against them. And if you're not careful, you'll find yourself on the wrong side of history."

Faye's lips curled into a faint smile, but there was no warmth in it. "I've been on the wrong side of history before, Elijah. It's nothing new."

Faye stood her ground, facing Elijah in the dim, quiet street just outside the café. Her eyes were locked on him, unblinking, as he spoke, his usual calm, collected demeanor beginning to crack just slightly with his anger.

Elijah's tone was low and steady as he issued his threat, but Faye didn't flinch. In fact, a small, cold smile curled up at the corners of her lips as she met his glare.

"Do you really think you can intimidate me, Elijah?" Her voice was cool, unwavering, as she took a slow step closer to him. "You and your family can come after me all you want, but let me make something clear: you'll be the ones who regret it. I'm older than all of you, I'm a goddess, and I am a hell of a lot more powerful than any of you could ever dream of being."

Her words were heavy with an aura of undeniable authority. She didn't care that he was the original vampire-didn't care about the centuries of power, blood, and war that ran through his veins. Her voice remained steady as she continued, her eyes still fixed on his.

"You think you intimidate me?" she repeated, stepping even closer until their faces were nearly inches apart, the tension crackling between them. "Come at me, Elijah. Try to come at me. But know this: if you do, it'll be the last thing you ever do. No threat, no power in the world will save you from the consequences of underestimating me."

Her words hung in the air, and she could see the flicker of something in his eyes-whether it was doubt or calculation, she didn't care. What mattered was that she'd made her point.

Faye took a breath, pulling back slightly, her gaze never leaving his. "You're doing it again, Elijah. The same damn thing you've always done." Her voice softened, but the sharpness was still there. "The same jealousy. The same paranoia. The same need to control everything around you. You think that you can fight every battle on your own, but this isn't a petty rivalry. This isn't about Marcel or your family anymore. It's bigger than that."

Elijah's eyes narrowed, the usual cold resolve slipping back into place, but Faye wasn't done.

"Don't you see?" she pressed. "You're repeating the cycle. And now, there's more at stake. People are coming. The ones who want Hope, who want to destroy her, they won't care about your petty grudges. They won't care about who's 'original' or who's 'king of New Orleans.' They'll only care about what she can do when she breaks her curse."

She paused, the weight of her next words sinking in, the final warning. "In less than a month, Hope will be showing signs of magic. The clock is ticking. Do you think that hiding her away will keep her safe forever? My magic might protect her for now, but you're not seeing the bigger picture, Elijah. You think that just because she's hidden from the world, she's safe? She's not."

Her eyes darkened, a sharp edge to her voice as she continued. "There are forces out there who want her. People who are going to come for her, who are going to want her dead. And unless you start thinking beyond your own damn ego, Hope will be caught in the middle of all of this. The Mikaelsons may think they're still in control, but the world is changing, Elijah. It's time to wake up."

She looked at him for a long moment, her gaze unyielding. "Instead of fighting Marcel, instead of bickering over old grudges, you need to start thinking about making amends. All of you. Because if you don't, the consequences will be far worse than you can imagine. And it won't just be Hope who suffers. It will be all of you."

Faye took a step back, the intensity of her gaze never breaking. "I'm not saying you have to be friends with Marcel. I'm not saying you have to forgive him. But you need to stop fighting these pointless battles. This isn't about power anymore-it's about survival. And if you keep holding onto your old ways, you'll lose everything."

With that, Faye turned her back to him, her words hanging heavy in the night air, and began to walk away. But before she reached the corner, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder, a final warning in her eyes.

"You think I'm just a manipulative goddess, don't you, Elijah?" Her tone was laced with irony. "Well, I'm not. I'm trying to help you all, and I'm trying to save her-your niece. But don't think for one second that I'll sit back and let you destroy her out of some misguided loyalty to your family's old ways. If you don't wake up to what's coming, you'll be just as much to blame for her death as anyone else."

With that, she was gone-vanishing into the shadows, leaving Elijah standing alone, the weight of her words slowly sinking in.

Elijah stood by the window of the Mikaelson manor, staring out at the city of New Orleans below, his mind replaying Faye's words over and over. Her sharp, biting truths had landed like blows, and the weight of them pressed heavily against his chest.

You're repeating the cycle, Elijah. The same jealousy. The same paranoia. The same need to control everything around you.

Faye's voice echoed in his mind, as did the cold finality in her tone when she spoke of Hope's fate. The idea that people would be coming for Hope-the ones who wanted her dead-had lodged itself like a splinter in his mind. Her power. The prophecy. The approaching deadline. His hand clenched into a fist at the thought of his niece being in danger, and yet, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Faye had a point.

The world is changing, Elijah. You think that just because she's hidden, she's safe? She's not.

He had always seen the world in black-and-white terms, with the Mikaelsons on one side and their enemies on the other. But Faye had shattered that simplicity, forcing him to confront the uncomfortable truth: maybe he and Klaus had been living in the past, clinging to old rivalries and fears when the real battle lay ahead.

Elijah exhaled slowly, then turned and made his way to the parlor, his brow furrowed with frustration. Klaus and Hayley were in the middle of a conversation, their voices low, but when Elijah entered, the room fell silent.

Klaus's gaze was fixed on him immediately, his lips curled into a faint, unreadable smile. "What's on your mind, Elijah?" Klaus asked, leaning back in his chair. The tone was light, but there was an edge of irritation there as well, the same one Klaus always wore when he knew Elijah had been away for too long.

"I spoke with Faye," Elijah began, not bothering to sugarcoat it. He wasn't interested in playing games. "And I think she may be right about some things."

Klaus's eyes narrowed, his entire demeanor shifting into something far darker. "Oh? And what exactly did she have to say?" His voice was dripping with skepticism, bordering on sarcasm. Klaus had never liked Faye, not after everything that had transpired between her and the family. For Klaus, she was a manipulator, someone who played on people's emotions and used her magic for her own gain. He wasn't about to suddenly change his opinion of her.

Elijah sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She believes we're all stuck in a cycle. That the things we've been fighting for-this-are trivial in comparison to the bigger picture. She said there are greater forces coming for Hope, and that if we don't wake up, we'll lose everything."

Klaus's lips curled into a mocking smile. "Always the drama queen," he muttered, shaking his head. "You're taking her words too seriously. Faye's just playing us. She's manipulating you, Elijah. She's always been good at that."

Hayley, who had been listening quietly, furrowed her brow at Klaus's dismissive response. She glanced from Elijah to Klaus, then back again, as if weighing their words. Finally, she spoke up, her voice tinged with thoughtfulness. "I don't think she's wrong, Klaus," Hayley said, her tone calm but firm. "I've seen how Faye works. She's got her own agenda, sure, but I also know when she's being honest. And what she said about the danger Hope faces... It makes sense."

Klaus's gaze snapped to Hayley, his eyes hardening. "And you believe her? After everything she's done?" His tone was icy, dismissive. "She has no loyalty to any of us, Hayley."

"I get that, but-" Hayley paused, choosing her words carefully. "Faye's not wrong about the bigger picture. Hope is getting older, and if she's anything like her grandmother, her magic is going to show signs soon. She's not going to be a child forever. And if the world comes for her because of that prophecy... I can't just stand back and let it happen."

Elijah, who had been silent as Hayley spoke, watched Klaus carefully. He could see the conflict behind Klaus's eyes, but the stubbornness was still there. Klaus didn't want to admit that Faye might be right.

"She said Marcel might be the key to surviving what's coming," Elijah added quietly, looking to his brother. "And that we need to patch things up, move past our old grudges, if we're going to protect Hope."

Klaus stiffened, clearly agitated by the mere mention of Marcel's name. "Marcel?" He spat the name like it was venom. "The traitor who turned against us? You want us to trust him?"

Hayley stepped closer to Klaus, her voice soft but insistent. "Yes. I do. And I think we need to consider it. Faye is right about one thing: Hope is turning four months old soon, and her magic is going to show. If we don't start thinking about the bigger picture-if we keep fighting over petty things-then we'll be left in the dust when the real threats show up. We need Faye's magic. We need Marcel's knowledge of the French Quarter. We need each other."

Klaus's face contorted with frustration, but deep down, he knew she had a point. Hope was growing, and with every passing day, the danger she faced was growing as well. Marcel was a problem, yes, but perhaps not one that couldn't be solved. And Faye-despite her past-had power. More power than they could ignore.

After a long, tense silence, Klaus finally spoke, his voice a low growl. "I won't bow to her, Elijah. And I won't bow to Marcel."

"But you'll do what's necessary, right?" Elijah asked, his voice calm but firm.

Klaus met his brother's gaze. For a moment, the room was thick with tension, and it seemed as if Klaus might refuse. But in the end, the responsibility for Hope-their niece, the only family they had left-was too great. Klaus's pride and stubbornness would have to take a backseat, at least for now.

Finally, Klaus nodded. "Fine. We'll talk to them. But I won't make any promises. I don't trust either of them."

Hayley smiled, relieved that Klaus was at least willing to consider the possibility. "That's all I'm asking for. We can't afford to waste any more time."

Elijah looked between them, a quiet satisfaction settling in his chest. Maybe there was hope for them yet. Maybe, just maybe, the Mikaelsons could put aside their old grudges and work together-because the fate of Hope, and all of them, depended on it.

The storm that Faye had warned them about was coming. And they had to be ready.

he walk to Faye's place was eerily quiet, the tension palpable in the air. Klaus, Elijah, and Hayley knew what was at stake, and the weight of their mission was evident in every step. But there was something else-something more troubling. Faye had made it clear that she wouldn't just roll over and play nice. She had her conditions. And knowing Faye, they weren't going to be easy to meet.

When they reached her door, Klaus didn't hesitate; he knocked once, sharply, his expression unreadable. After a brief pause, the door swung open, revealing Faye standing in the doorway, her arms folded lazily across her chest, the flickering candlelight behind her casting shadows on her sharp features. She looked like she'd been expecting them-and maybe she had.

"Well, well," Faye drawled, her voice cool and dripping with sarcasm. "The mighty Mikaelsons and their sidekick, the hybrid. To what do I owe this delightful visit?" Her lips curled into an amused smile, though her eyes remained sharp and calculating. "Come to beg me for help? I must warn you, I'm fresh out of favors. Unless, of course, you have a very convincing reason to offer me."

Klaus was the first to speak, his voice measured but frustrated. "We need your help, Faye. We can't do this alone. The Guerrera wolves are a problem we can't ignore. And we need-"

Faye cut him off with a raised hand, her tone almost mocking. "Oh, please. Spare me the lecture, Klaus. I'm already familiar with the situation. I'm not some naive little witch you can charm into doing your bidding." She tilted her head, her gaze flicking from Klaus to Elijah, then to Hayley. "But let me guess, you want me to protect Hope. You want me to put my considerable talents to use while you sit back and pretend none of this is your fault."

Klaus' jaw tightened at the jab, but Faye continued, unfazed.

"Sure, I'll help with Hope, but don't think for a second that I'll be your guard dog. I'm not one for being bossed around." She smirked as she met Klaus's eyes, the unspoken challenge clear. "If you want my protection, you'll meet me halfway. And that means dealing with the Guerrera wolves. They've been a thorn in my side for far too long, and I'd be thrilled to see them out of New Orleans. But I won't lift a finger until that little issue is resolved. Call it my personal condition."

Elijah, ever the diplomat, stepped forward. "We were hoping you might have some advice on how to handle them. If we can find a way to eliminate the wolves without too much bloodshed, we'll have a chance to focus on the real threat."

Faye raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "Ah, bloodshed... Why does it always come down to bloodshed with you people?" She sighed dramatically. "Fine, I'll humor you. The Guerreras are easy to manipulate. They're territorial, impulsive, and often incredibly short-sighted. A little pressure in the right places, some key alliances, and a few well-placed lies, and you can make them turn on each other like rabid dogs."

She paused for a moment, clearly enjoying her own wit. "But hey, don't take my word for it. You're all experts at destruction, aren't you? Shouldn't be too hard for you to work out, right?"

Klaus clenched his fists, visibly irritated by her dry humor, but he knew better than to show it. "And what about Marcel?" he asked, cutting to the chase. "You said you'd help, but there's still the matter of him. We can't just waltz in there and pretend like everything's fine."

Faye's lips twisted into a smirk, but it wasn't a kind one. "Ah, Marcel," she mused, her tone dripping with mock affection. "Such a delicate little situation, isn't it? The poor boy wants to reclaim his throne, and who can blame him? He's been playing at king for so long. But I'm not the one who made him into the man he is. You did, Klaus. You abandoned him. Left him to rot, even though you both knew he'd be better off with you than with anyone else."

She shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes glinting with a dark humor. "But that's the thing with you Originals. You never think things through, do you? You take what you want, leave the mess behind, and expect everyone to just fall in line because you demand it."

Klaus' face darkened at the mention of Marcel, but Faye was far from finished.

"Look," she continued, pacing slightly as if she were thinking aloud. "I'll go with you to see Marcel, but we can't tell him about Hope. Not yet, anyway. If we want to make any progress with him, we need to keep the illusion going. Hope is dead. That's the story we're sticking to, at least for now."

Hayley, who had been standing mostly in the background, spoke up. "You're asking us to lie to everyone we know? To keep this secret-again? And you want us to trust Marcel with that?"

Faye's eyes flicked to Hayley, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. I'm not asking you to do anything you haven't done before. Everyone in this town is a liar and a schemer, including you. It's just part of the game."

She turned back to Klaus and Elijah. "But here's the deal: If you want to convince Marcel to join forces, you'll have to do it on his terms, not yours. You've alienated him for far too long, and he won't just forget that because you wave your little 'Original Vampire' status in his face. He's pissed, and you can't charm your way out of that."

Klaus clenched his jaw but said nothing, clearly frustrated but understanding the truth of Faye's words. She had a point.

Faye smiled, seemingly satisfied with the weight of the situation now sinking in. "I'll help keep Hope safe, but remember, this is bigger than all of you. You can't just march in and demand things. It's time to patch things up with Marcel, or all of you are doomed. And not just because of the Guerreras."

She paused, her eyes growing colder, more serious. "People will come for Hope soon. You may think you can hide her, but the truth is, no spell is permanent. And if you don't make amends with Marcel and those who stand against you, they'll rip this city apart to get what they want. And Hope? She'll be the first to pay the price."

Klaus stared at her, finally understanding the depth of the situation. Faye wasn't just helping them out of some misplaced sense of loyalty. She had her own agenda, and they would have to keep up.

"Then it's settled," Klaus said, his voice heavy with reluctant acceptance. "We'll go to Marcel together. But know this, Faye, if anything happens to my daughter-"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll blame me," Faye interrupted, her smirk returning. "But don't worry, Klaus. I'm not the one who's been making all the mistakes. You've had plenty of chances to fix this. Don't make me your scapegoat."

With that, she turned toward the door. "Let's get this over with. The Guerreras won't wait forever, and neither will the ghosts of your past."