Kol had just trailed his group of students into the bustling lunchroom when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Without glancing at the screen, he answered, assuming it was the call he had been expecting.

"Nik, I told—"

"Kol," a voice cut him off, tight with worry. It wasn't Niklaus. It was Elijah. "Tell me you have eyes on Maya."

The urgency in his brother's voice sent a jolt through him. Kol's gaze snapped up, instinctively scanning the crowded room for a familiar mop of blonde curls. He quickly spotted Sora and Aiden, seated together, with Ronan weaving through the tables towards them. Relief was fleeting; there was no sign of Maya. Or Kamala. His eyes darted toward the table where the teachers sat, and he spotted Clayton Daniels, calmly eating. If Daniels was there, then both Maya and Kamala should have been close by. But they weren't.

Kol tried to steady the rising dread, hoping against hope that the two girls were simply in the bathroom adjacent to the lunch hall. Yet the strained tone in Elijah's voice gnawed at him, a warning that something was very wrong.

"Kol!" Elijah's voice crackled through the phone, snapping Kol out of his thoughts.

"I can't see her," Kol replied, forcing his voice to stay calm as he hurried toward the table of his fellow professors. "She might just be in the bathroom."

"Kol, listen to me," Elijah's voice dropped to a grave whisper. "There are people trying to kidnap Maya. I need to know she's with you."

Panic flared in Kol's chest. He reached the table, his voice sharp as he demanded,

"Clayton, where's Maya?"

Clayton glanced up, oblivious to the rising tension.

"Miss Khan left her water bottle in the dinosaur exhibit. I allowed the two of them to go and retrieve it."

Kol's pulse quickened.

"When?"

"Miss Chance is with them," Evelyn interjected, sensing the urgency in his voice. Her eyes softened with reassurance. "I'm sure they'll be back any moment."

"What's going on?" Felix asked, his gaze flicking between Kol and Evelyn, sensing the undercurrent of alarm.

Kol didn't waste any more time. He switched his phone to speaker mode and thrust it towards the group.

"Elijah, explain."

Elijah's voice came through, cold and clipped.

"Katerina received a tip-off from one of her informants. The French Quarter coven in New Orleans is planning to kidnap Maya. They want to use her to force Niklaus to do their bidding."

A sharp intake of breath followed by a hissed curse.

"Merde!"

Kol's gaze snapped to Diana, her face pale as the realization hit her.

"What?" Kol demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

"Miss Chance," Diana began, "she's from New Orleans. A member of the French Quarter coven."

Kol's heart plummeted. He didn't wait to hear more; his feet were already moving, propelling him towards the door, his mind racing. The fire alarm blared through the building, adding to the chaos. Felix caught up with him, his expression grim.

"Evelyn and Diana can manage the rest of the students," Felix said, his voice steady despite the situation. "We'll go after our missing two."

Kol nodded curtly, his focus narrowing to one goal: find Maya. They burst through the doors of the exhibit, splitting up as soon as they entered. The vast, dimly lit room was filled with towering dinosaur skeletons, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Kol's eyes swept the floor, searching for any sign, any clue. Then he saw it—a small, familiar item lying abandoned on the cold floor.

He darted over and scooped it up.

"Maya's portkey," he muttered, his voice tight with dread. "They took it off her."

Felix, crouched nearby, was examining something on the floor. Kol hurried over, the fear in his gut twisting tighter with each step.

"What have you found?" Kol asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Felix looked up his face grim.

"Blood."

The word hung in the air, heavy and ominous. Kol's breath caught in his throat. He raised the phone to his ear, his voice cracking with anguish.

"She's gone, Elijah. They got her."

"Ops. Stat." Eric's voice echoed from the stairs, his tone unusually clipped and serious. Kensi's eyes flicked to the others, an unspoken question passing between them. It wasn't like Eric to be so terse; usually, he'd toss out some hint or teaser about the case, something to whet their curiosity. But this time, he'd simply turned on his heel and vanished back up the stairs to Ops, leaving a trail of unease in his wake. Whatever this was, it had to be more serious than their usual fare.

Without a word, the four agents exchanged knowing glances and followed swiftly, their footsteps a synchronized rhythm against the concrete as they ascended to the Ops room. The air felt heavier, charged with the tension of whatever awaited them. As they entered, they found Eric already immersed in a flurry of keystrokes, his fingers flying across the keyboard with a speed that spoke of urgency. Nell stood beside him, her gaze intent on the screens, while Hetty and Granger stood stoically, waiting to brief the team.

"At 12:15 local time, two girls went missing from the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History," Granger announced as they approached, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.

"The Smithsonian's in Washington," Callen pointed out, a furrow forming between his brows. "Why is this our case?"

"Because, Mr. Callen," Hetty interjected, her tone cool and measured, "one of those girls is Maya Potter."

The room seemed to still as Maya's picture materialized on the screen, accompanied by that of another girl. Kensi felt a knot tighten in her stomach. This was serious. She shot a quick glance at Sam, reading the same concern in his eyes.

"Isn't that the girl you were protecting last year?" Deeks asked, his voice tinged with disbelief as he turned to Kensi.

She nodded, the memories flooding back—of long nights, constant vigilance, and the weight of responsibility that came with protecting someone so important.

"Maya Potter," Hetty continued, her voice taking on a gravity that filled the room, "commonly known as the Girl Who Lived due to her miraculous survival of the attack that claimed the lives of her mother and stepfather. She is the Heiress to the House of Potter and the House of Black. She was placed under the protection of the Horde shortly before her twelfth birthday and has held dual citizenship for the past sixteen months."

Callen's expression grew more serious.

"So, we're taking this case because the President of MACUSA doesn't want the Horde and the House of Black to declare war?"

"That's certainly one of the concerns," Granger replied, his tone grim. "As is what her birth father and his siblings may do if Maya Potter is not recovered alive and well. It's not common knowledge, but Maya Potter is Niklaus Mikaelson's daughter."

The room fell silent as the weight of his words sank in.

"Her birth father?" Deeks asked, the question hanging in the air, heavy with implications. "The Klaus Mikaelson is her biological father?"

"Yes. The Klaus Mikaelson."

Hetty confirmed, her eyes narrowing slightly as if anticipating their reactions.

Deeks let out a low whistle, the gravity of the situation becoming clearer by the second.

"Both presidents are deeply invested in this," Hetty continued, her voice steady, "and our team has been assigned to lead the investigation. Failure is not an option."

Callen, ever the professional, didn't waste time with further questions.

"Alright, what do we know so far?"

Nell tapped a few keys, and the screen shifted to show security footage.

"At 12:00, the girls were seen entering the dinosaur exhibit, accompanied by one of the Academy's assistant professors. At 12:10, Elijah Mikaelson alerted his brother Kol Mikaelson, who was also on the trip, he's been working as a professor at the Academy since the year started, that he'd received information of an imminent threat to Maya's safety. At 12:15 Kol Mikaelson and Felix Mephisto entered the dinosaur exhibit, they found Miss Potter's emergency portkey and a pool of blood, but no sign of either student or the teacher. The aurors were alerted immediately and are on scene along with partner agents from the FBI."

"And the cameras inside the exhibit?" Callen prompted, his mind already racing ahead.

"They went down fifteen minutes before the girls entered," Nell replied, her tone carrying the weight of the situation.

"An inside job, then?" Sam suggested, his voice laced with suspicion as he folded his arms, a look of steely determination settling on his face.

"It would have to be," Kensi agreed, her voice firm and steady. "This isn't just about the museum staff. Maya's emergency portkey—it's not something just anyone can tamper with. The number of people who even know about its existence is incredibly small, and those who know the fail-safe to remove it in an emergency. Even fewer. This had to be someone with deep knowledge, someone on the inside." Her gaze flicked to the screen, her mind already racing ahead to the implications. "What do we know about the teacher who was with the girls."

Eric, still focused on his screen, didn't miss a beat.

"Émilie Chance. Formerly Malchance, but she changed it when she turned eighteen. Born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana, as a member of the French Quarter Coven. She applied to become a trainee professor at the New York Academy for the Gifted back in June and was hired to work under Professor Evelyn Fawley, head of the Academy's Magizoology department. No criminal records, but we're digging through everything else we can find on her as we speak."

"How certain are we that she's involved?" Callen asked, his voice cool and professional, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of concern.

"Very certain," Eric replied, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "Elijah Mikaelson passed along the information—he got it from Katerina Petrova, who heard it from one of her New Orleans contacts. Before Evangeline Vernier lost contact, she warned Katerina that the French Quarter Coven was planning to kidnap Maya. It's a credible threat."

The gravity of the situation settled over the room like a heavy blanket. The stakes had never been higher.

Hetty's gaze turned sharp as she shifted her attention to Kensi.

"Agent Blye, you know the family better than anyone. I want you running point with the Salvatores and the Mikaelsons. We need their cooperation, and they'll listen to you."

Kensi nodded, the weight of responsibility settling on her shoulders. She knew how delicate the situation was—how volatile.

"Detective Deeks," Hetty continued, turning to him, "you'll go to Washington. Your job is to extract every piece of information you can from the crime scene. Miss Jones, you're going with him. Liaise with Mr. Beale, who will continue coordinating from here. Every detail could be crucial."

Deeks exchanged a look with Nell, a silent understanding passing between them. They knew what they had to do.

"Agent Hanna, Agent Callen," Hetty said, her voice firm, "you're heading to New Orleans. Agent LaSalle has been alerted and will be taking point on that end. The supernatural community there—they're a law unto themselves. The situation in the city is, to put it mildly, complicated. Agent LaSalle will brief you upon arrival, but I cannot stress this enough—be careful. New Orleans is a powder keg, and we can't afford to light the fuse."

Hetty paused, her usually calm demeanour now marked by a rare, intense seriousness.

"There are portkeys downstairs in my office. Gather what you need and meet me there. Time is of the essence."

Granger stepped forward; his expression grim as he added the final, chilling reminder.

"You have one week to find both girls alive and well. If you fail, there will be no stopping the House of Black, the Horde, and the Mikaelsons from forming an alliance. And if that happens, they won't hesitate to raise New Orleans to the ground to get Maya back."

The room fell into a tense silence, each agent acutely aware of the daunting task ahead. This was no ordinary mission. The clock was ticking, and the stakes were higher than they'd ever faced. But failure wasn't an option—not with the fate of the supernatural world hanging in the balance.

A splintering crash reverberated through the air, the sound of wood and glass shattering into fragments, followed by another, and then another, as Damon unleashed his fury on the living room. Furniture splintered, lamps toppled, and the once elegant room was reduced to chaos. Klaus watched, his own rage simmering beneath the surface, but he held back, knowing Damon needed to release the storm within him.

Finally, with a swift and calculated move, Klaus closed the distance and wrapped his powerful arms around Damon, forcing him to be still. Despite the strength in his grip, there was an unexpected gentleness to the way he held his partner, a silent understanding of the pain that drove him.

"You were right," Damon muttered hoarsely, his voice thick with regret as he sagged against Klaus, the fight draining out of him. "We shouldn't have let her go."

Klaus tightened his hold, his voice a low rumble as he responded.

"And you were right too. We have to trust that Maya is clever enough and strong enough to keep herself alive until we can get her back. She's survived worse, and she'll survive this."

Damon's head hung low, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the weight of the situation pressed down on him.

"How did this happen?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, the question hanging in the air like a dark cloud.

Before Klaus could answer, Rebekah appeared in the doorway, her presence like a sudden shift in the atmosphere, bringing with it a sense of urgency. Her eyes, usually filled with a blend of sharp wit and lingering sorrow, were now focused and serious.

"Nik, Damon," she called softly, her voice cutting through the tension in the room. "Agent Blye is here. Her team is in charge of the investigation. She wants to talk to all of us together."

Klaus released his hold on Damon, who straightened up, running a hand through his dishevelled hair as he tried to regain his composure. The room around them was a testament to the turmoil within, but now wasn't the time for dwelling on destruction. They needed answers, and they needed to act.

Klaus nodded to Rebekah, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. They all knew what was at stake. With a final glance at the wreckage of the living room, Klaus turned to Damon, his expression hardening into one of resolve.

"Let's go," he said, his voice steady, even as the storm still raged within him. "We're going to find her. We're going to get our daughter back."

Katherine paced the length of the room, her mind racing as she tried to think of who else she could contact for information. Her heels clicked sharply against the floor, the sound echoing in the tense silence. Evangeline was no longer answering her phone, and with the abrupt way their last call had ended, Katherine had little choice but to assume the worst—Evangeline had either been captured or, more likely, was already dead. The thought gnawed at her, but she couldn't afford to dwell on it. There was too much at stake.

She had already called every contact she had in New Orleans, but none of them had any useful intel on the French Quarter Coven's plans. Their responses were all variations of the same frustrating answer: silence, ignorance, or fear. She had instructed them to dig deeper, to be cautious but persistent. Still, time was slipping away, and she couldn't shake the feeling that they were running out of it. Maybe if she directed more of her people toward New Orleans, they could uncover something faster, something that would lead them to Maya and Kamala before it was too late.

Her restless pacing brought her to the edge of the room, where she cast a quick glance at Klaus and Damon. The two men were standing side by side, their expressions locked in a mixture of barely restrained fury and simmering anxiety. They were listening intently to Agent Blye, the federal agent whose team had been assigned to the investigation, but it was clear that their patience was wearing thin. Rage flickered in their eyes, but it was tempered by something more vulnerable—desperation and worry, emotions they rarely allowed themselves to show.

Katherine knew all too well what was at stake. If this didn't end well, if Maya wasn't found alive and unharmed, it would unleash a bloodbath unlike anything the world had ever seen. And it wouldn't just be Klaus and Damon tearing through their enemies. The entire Mikaelson family were on edge, ready to rain down devastation on anyone who stood in their way.

Her gaze drifted across the room, taking in the other figures who had gathered in this uneasy alliance. Two goblin warriors stood near the door, their fierce eyes scanning the room with a readiness that made it clear they were prepared for battle at a moment's notice. They had arrived about five minutes after Agent Blye, their presence a silent but potent reminder of the strength of their people.

Further across the room, two women—both tense and alert—stood deep in conversation with Esther Mikaelson, Sheila Bennett, and the witches who worked for Klaus. The air around them hummed with barely contained energy, a palpable tension that hinted at the sheer force they could unleash if pushed. The Horde and the House of Black were on the brink of declaring war, and Katherine knew that if they did, there would be no force on earth capable of stopping such an alliance.

Katherine's pacing slowed to a halt as the weight of the situation pressed down on her, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second. She was no stranger to danger, but this was different. This was an impending storm, one that, if unleashed, would leave nothing but devastation in its wake. She needed answers, and she needed them now—before the fragile restraint holding everyone back snapped, and all hell broke loose.

The sudden ringing of her phone sliced through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. Glancing briefly at the caller ID, a flicker of hope sparked within her as she lifted the phone to her ear.

"Evie?"

But the voice that responded wasn't the one she'd hoped for.

"No. This is Jane-Anne Devereaux. The traitor said you might be able to put me in contact with Klaus Mikaelson."

Before Katherine could react, Klaus was across the room in an instant, his supernatural speed a blur, and he snatched the phone from her hand. His eyes blazed with a deadly mixture of fury and protective instinct.

"Jane-Anne Devereaux," Klaus snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "I presume you're one of the fools who thought you could take my daughter without facing the consequences?"

Across the room, Agent Blye, who had been quietly observing the exchange, immediately moved towards them. She spoke into her own phone, her voice hushed but still loud enough for Katherine to catch her words.

"Eric, I need you to trace a call." She stopped beside Katherine, her tone sharp and businesslike. "What's your number?"

Katherine rattled off the number, her focus split between Agent Blye and the conversation taking place on the phone Klaus now held.

"No harm will come to your daughter if you do as we say," Jane-Anne's voice replied, cold and calculated.

Klaus's grip tightened on the phone, his knuckles whitening.

"You think you can control me?" His voice was a deadly whisper, each word dripping with barely restrained violence. "I will get my daughter back, and when I do, I will rip you limb from limb. Then, I'll do the same to every last member of your coven until it ceases to exist."

There was a brief, tense silence on the line before Jane-Anne responded, her tone brisk and unyielding.

"You have twelve hours to get to New Orleans, or you'll never see your daughter again." With that, the call abruptly ended.

Klaus stared at the phone, his fury palpable, the device almost cracking under the pressure of his grip.

Agent Blye was already snapping into her phone, her voice sharp with urgency.

"Eric, tell me you got something."

"The call originated in New Orleans," Eric's voice came back over the line, tinged with frustration. "It was too short to get anything else."

"Tell Hetty to make arrangements to get us to New Orleans immediately," Agent Blye commanded, her tone leaving no room for delay.

But before she could finish the order, one of the goblins, who had been silently standing guard, stepped forward. His voice was deep and resonant, carrying an air of authority.

"Allow us. All we need is a destination."

"The Plantation House," Elijah spoke up from where he had been standing, his voice calm but laced with underlying tension. "It once belonged to the governor of New Orleans in the early 19th century. I purchased it when he died without an heir."

The goblin nodded.

"How many are coming?"