Damon's Thoughts
It's been exactly one day since Charlie called me.
That night, we had scoured every inch of Mystic Falls in search of her. Charlie, driven by the desperation of a father who refused to lose his daughter, and me, begrudgingly admitting that over the past four days, that infuriating girl with the brown eyes—my "Just-a-Girl"—had become inexplicably important to me. Important enough that Pearl's actions wouldn't go unanswered.
Now, as the new day dawns, Charlie is out in town, chasing leads and grasping at straws. I know it's a futile effort. All he'll find are dead ends and false hopes. But I...I have a plan.
And I intend to execute it.
Running through the woods, towards an old farmhouse that Stefan had mentioned—the dwelling place of the tomb vampires—is my only lead. It's the only place I can imagine they would take her. And if not...
Well, staking every one of those bastards in the heart isn't a bad option either.
Two knocks on the door, and it swings open.
"Hello there," a sweet, chubby-faced redhead greets me from the safety of the house. "What can I do for you, sir?"
Pearl was smarter than I had given her credit for.
"You can let me in," I reply, letting my eyes dilate and my voice take on a commanding tone. Compulsion is my tool of choice, and I need her to cooperate.
"I need to let you..."
"You don't want to do that, Miss," a voice interrupts her—a man stepping forward from the shadows. Short black hair, a scruffy beard, and eyes as empty as the void. Frederick. I remember him. He used to linger around Katherine, a presence I always found distasteful.
"I never liked him."
"Damon Salvatore," Frederick greets me with a sly smile, "One of Katherine's playthings, all grown up, aren't you? Or maybe...not quite." His words infuriate me, the urge to drive the stake in my hand through his chest nearly overwhelming.
"Where is she?" I snarl, my features contorted with anger.
"Who?" Frederick feigns innocence, but his smirk gives him away.
"You know exactly who," I growl.
"Sadly, I don't know what you're talking about, Damon," Frederick taunts, his indifference fueling my rage. "So I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"Toddles," he adds, before slamming the door shut in my face.
But not before I hear it. Loud and clear.
It's a scream—a high-pitched, feminine scream.
All I can think is:
Bella.
