napalm skies <<>> kol mikaelson

20

"and just like that, the thunder booms again, and i await the next storm to feel you close."

20 | SAFETY

February, 1920

Charlotte heard the screams all around her, felt the shattering glass on the floor from where her hands were holding herself up. She scrambled behind the bar, eyes wide, noticing the bullets on the ground. They were wooden, with a small—familiar—crest engraved into it. Her face drained of color, her stomach dropping.

Kol. He was all she could think about. Where was he? Hadn't he'd been just right next to her? Amidst the gnawing worry over her beloved, she could also sense a distant worry for Stefan, Nik, and Bekah. She didn't know where any of them were.

Her heart was hammering as she peeked above the bar-top so she could try and assess the damage. There were bodies everywhere, drinks and blood staining the floors. The gunfire continued, and she ducked back down immediately, almost slipping further into the glass before she shakily caught herself. Where could she go? Whoever was shooting had the perfect advantage over her: she couldn't escape out from behind the bar without getting blown to bits.

Just when she thought she was done for, there was a short break in the bullets, then a woosh of air. Suddenly, she was in the alley, Nik standing in front of her. She blinked, her mind desperately hoping to catch up and understand what on Earth was going on.

But then again, she already knew. "Mikael—"

"I know," Nik said, his voice rushed and frightened. "We must leave."

He grabbed her arm and then placed his hand on her back, leading her forward without a moment to waste. She realized there was a truck there, and she blinked.

"Where are Bekah and Kol?" she asked, her eyes widening a split-second later as she tried to get out of Nik's iron grip. "What if they are still inside—"

"They are safe," Nik replied, his eyes boring into hers. It was then that she realized, and her face turned white.

"What did you do?" she asked, horrified.

It seemed as if he'd steeled himself for her reaction, because nothing crossed his face as he replied. "I kept them safe."

"No, no," she cried, shaking her head, even as Nik quickly led her forward again. She went to hit him, another sob wracking her chest, but he just avoided the attack, turned her around, and forced her into the truck, climbing in after her.

It started to move, and she realized it must've been a prohibition truck, meant to bring in illegal products. There were empty crates scattered throughout, but there, in the middle, lying on the floor, were both Rebekah and Kol's bodies. They were desiccated, clothes stained bright red from where two intricate and ornate daggers stuck out from their chests.

The second she saw her husband, still in his wedding clothes—his suit rumpled and the undershirt stained, his bow tie unraveled around his neck—her tears fell faster, blurring everything around her as she released a sound between a sob and a yell. She scrambled toward him, her hands fluttering over his body before they landed on his face, feeling the cold skin there. He looked forcefully peaceful, and she hated it. She wanted to see his eyes, to watch him smirk at her while he grabbed her hand and played with her fingers.

Her back shuddered with another sob as she shook her head, and the tears fell onto Kol's cheek too.

Without properly thinking, she grasped the hilt of the dagger, but Nik was there faster, his palm settled on the top, keeping it in place. "That is exactly what you will not do," he said darkly.