Warning: Violence. Angst.


The radio knob rotated furiously in Caroline's fingers, ripped off of the Rover's stereo as a casualty of her...she didn't even know anymore. In the past hour, she'd pumped through her tension-filled body every possible emotion a human could feel and likely had discovered some irritating new ones. Her mother's note had been a melodramatic, shitty expression of her delusional martyrdom. But that was always her mother's way — live in an idiotic fantasy world where everyone was against her and she was blameless for her terrible choices.

But even after all this time, Caroline was still a lost little girl who clung to her mother's words.

"I wasn't much of a mother, and if I could go back, I'd be better for you, I swear it."

Caroline held onto them with every burning breath, no matter how dearly that misplaced hope would cost her later.

"Please know that I love you and no matter what happens to me, that will never change."

After everything that had happened, she still wanted her mother's love. But that didn't mean she couldn't see the letter for the desperate, pathetic scam it was. Her mother had to "announce" that she was doing something selfless.

"All I can do now is try to fix my mistake. But there is something I can do now that will make sure you're safe."

Apparently, altruism didn't count if no one was watching.

Caroline told herself that she didn't care whether her mother's letter was true — that Liz didn't know what Mikael and Silas had planned; that she'd tried to warn her that day in the hospital. Her mother nearly got her killed.

And yet, she and Klaus were speeding down the road to save her mother from herself. If Amara had started assembling mercenaries to restart the turf wars, Liz was walking right into a trap.


The governor's mansion was set back from a private road that wound its way up a tall hill. They'd parked the Rover on a side road at a previous turn and quietly walked the rest of the way in. But it didn't matter. Two guards lay crumpled against the porch columns where they'd fallen, blood pooling from precise gunshots to their foreheads. Her mother's marksmanship always had been a point of pride for her.

The Mystic Falls Sheriff had killed two guards at the former governor's mansion. Four guards, Caroline amended numbly as they silently slipped through the gore-smeared front door and spied two more bodies sprawled out on what used to be a gorgeous Persian rug. What was her mother thinking? She was supposed to be on the right side of the law and defend good guys from bad guys. Except...who were the bad guys here?

Klaus briefly paused, gun at the ready, to gently touch her shoulder. She watched the dangerous, violent mob boss' steel gray eyes fill with concern. Life was so unforgivably messy. She quickly nodded, anxious to keep going. Now was not the time for feelings. Maybe not ever.

They slowly climbed the grand staircase, confusion marring both of their faces at the lack of reinforcements. Amara has just staged a masterful coup, likely the most impressive the underworld had seen in decades — the fact that Mikael had been killed before they could consolidate their power shouldn't have stopped her from rallying whatever remained of her men and preparing for war. If anything, it should've encouraged her to be especially cautious and go to a safe house to start planning her next move.

Caroline couldn't help the brief flashes of inspiration (and irritation) that came to her every time she saw the people around her being bad at crime. How do you not have contingencies in place in case your super-secret partner is deeply terrible at mobbing? If it was Caroline, she would've had pre-coup takeover lists, post-coup lists, and ongoing lists that assessed every potential risk to her plans along with viable solutions. Seriously, had these people not watched any mob movies?

The strangled gasps for air and shuddering, agonizing moans reach their ears just as they barreled into the large study at the top of the stairs. They raced in there to...save Amara? Save Liz from herself? A third option that seemed less insane?

But there was nothing left for them to do.

Both women were suffering from multiple gunshot wounds, bleeding out on the maple floor. Amara had crawled out from behind a heavy carved desk, the edge splintered from stray bullets. Blood soaked the ruined silk organza ruffles of her blouse, and her brown eyes widened in surprise when she saw Caroline. "Please...help me," she begged pitifully, perfectly manicured hand shaking as she tried to reach out.

Caroline instinctively took a step toward her, but paused when she heard her mother's voice call out weakly, "Caroline." Blue eyes blazed out of too-pale skin, blood running out of the sides of her mouth. Liz's department-issued Glock lay next to her, and she took a painful, rattling breath as she tried to speak, "I..."

Letting out a choked sob, Caroline collapsed next to her mother, all the rage and resentment fading into the background as she took her mother's hand. "Mom," she said, helplessness overwhelming her as she realized her mother was beyond her help.

Amara tried to speak again, her voice jarring in its stubborn strength as she called out, "Help."

Caroline exchanged a wordless glance with Klaus, who automatically leveled his gun at Amara in a silent display of dominance. She wisely quieted to pitiful whimpers.

Caroline turned back to Liz, words failing her as her mother began to convulse and gurgle. Her sheriff's uniform was darkly stained, the horrifying patches of blood growing wide beneath Caroline's shaking fingers. Liz hadn't bothered to wear Kevlar. It really had been a suicide mission. It was agony to watch and know there was nothing that could be done. Liz was still her mother, and no matter what had passed between them, this wasn't the ending that she would've wanted for her. There was no earth-shattering resolution to their complicated relationship — no tearful recriminations or entreaties of forgiveness. It was just another ending. With a final squeeze of her mother's hand, Liz closed her eyes and stilled.

Her mother was gone. And yes, there were tears. But Caroline always would wonder if it was the culminating shock of so many awful things happening all at once rather than the loss of her mother that caused her tears. Hearts only could break so many times.

Amara's plaintive cry broke the silence. "Please, Caroline, please help me."

Caroline exchanged another silent glance with Klaus, who reluctantly stepped out of the way. She knelt beside the quivering Amara, breathing in a cloying cloud of pricey perfume despite the sour stench of blood. A spray of bullets had shredded the organza ruffles, now stiffening with blood. No one was more surprised that Caroline when she heard her own voice hoarsely intone, "My mother ruined your expensive blouse. Good."

Amara babbled desperately, "Listen to me! We can build something special together! Between my connections and the Mikaelsons' impressive operations, you'll have real power!" Her brown eyes glinted dangerously as she urged faintly, "Save me and everything you've ever wanted will be yours."

Caroline's practiced hands felt along the torn flesh of Amara's torso, spying several entry wounds but nothing near the heart. A bizarre calm settled over her as she replied in a tone perfectly devoid of emotion, "You'll need surgery to remove bullet fragments, but it's possible the damage to your organs is minimal. I should be able to stabilize you until we can get to the hospital."

The hope that filled Amara's woeful gaze was very satisfying, reminding Caroline all over again why she became a doctor. To perform miracles when circumstances were dire. To give hope. She could feel Klaus at her back, knowing that even though he'd disagree with her instinct to save Amara, he'd do everything she asked to ensure Amara made it to the hospital alive. He respected her judgement.

The white light from the delicate crystal chandelier picked up a silver glint and Caroline spied the slim barrel of a pistol that lay on the floor near the desk. Amara's gun. A toy gun, really, it was hard to believe that such a tiny thing could cause so much damage. Could kill her mother. Caroline didn't bother to search for the corner of the room where her mother's body lay. She'd find no more answers there.

Instead, Caroline continued to observe Amara until confusion registered on her lovely face. It was curious how the blood splatters on her skin and thick, dark hair seemed to enhance her beauty, as though nothing could rob Amara of her only useful trait. Blood pooled underneath her back as she struggled to breathe, and Caroline watched the blood trails roll freely down Amara's quivering belly.

The complete disinterest must've shown in her expression, because Amara's breathing became more shallow as she panicked in earnest. She met Amara's tearful gaze without flinching, and despite her heart hammering in her chest, deep down, Caroline knew this was what she wanted. To let this happen.

Amara began to grunt incoherently, and still Caroline did nothing. Felt nothing. Klaus leaned down to rest a comforting hand on Caroline's shoulder. Together, they silently watched their enemy bleed out.

A trivial ending was the perfect revenge for a woman who had assumed she could beat the Mikaelsons at their own game.