"I want to know exactly who is responsible for killing my husband." Grief lay heavy on Carol's face, but there was a steely resolve as well, when she locked eyes with Liz.

Liz, maintaining her composure, leaned forward, her detective instincts kicking in as she probed for more information.

"I'm looking into it, but you have to be straight with me. Is there any particular reason a vampire might have targeted Richard?" Her question, though delivered with a soft touch, cut through the air, underscoring the severity of their predicament.

Carol's disbelief was palpable.

"Do you really think it was a vampire?" The idea seemed far-fetched, even in a world where the supernatural had become an unwelcome part of their daily lives.

"He's neck was snapped whilst he was sitting at his desk, Carol. It's not the usual MO, but it takes a lot of strength to snap a man's neck." Liz's analytical mind pieced together the puzzle; her voice steady but imbued with a grave concern. "Now it is possible for a human to do it, but if that was the case the coroner would have expected to see more signs of a struggle. Richard was a fit and healthy man, and no pushover. Whoever did this had to do it quickly, cleanly, and quietly, so usual MO or not I have to suspect vampires might be behind it. Which is why I need to know, has anyone suspicious been invited inside, has anything happened recently that the Council weren't made privy to, for whatever reason."

Carol hesitated; her internal conflict evident as she deliberated over her next words. With a heavy heart and a lowered voice, she revealed,

"There was…" She paused the weight of her next confession seemingly unbearable. "You know that visiting writer Elijah Smith?"

Liz nodded; she remembered him. A brief introduction by Jenna Sommers when she'd been showing him around town, had been her only real interaction, but he was a hard man to forget.

"John Gilbert told Richard he was a vampire," Carol continued, her voice laced with fear. "But a special kind, much stronger and faster than the ones we were familiar with, one who couldn't be killed by ordinary means. I was against it, I didn't want Tyler in danger, but he'd already been invited inside, and we had to do something."

"Against what, Carol?" Liz pressed, her tone sharpening with urgency.

"John had us host a dinner party, invite him, the Gilberts, the Salvatores," Carol explained, her words tumbling out in a rush. "He was supposedly researching the history of the area, and with us all being founding families, it wouldn't be odd to invite him to an intimate gathering like that. That's what John said anyway."

Liz's expression hardened.

"John had no right to place you all at risk like that. It's one thing for us to do it, but we shouldn't be placing our kids in danger."

"Richard insisted," Carol murmured, a shadow of guilt passing over her face. "John had this special dagger or something that would supposedly kill him and keep him dead unless it was removed. He used it after the dinner party, then got rid of the body while Richard and I were distracting everyone else. Well, not the Salvatores. They left straight after dinner; Damon didn't want Maya out too late."

"When was this?" Liz asked, her mind racing with the implications.

"The beginning of April," Carol replied, a note of uncertainty creeping into her voice.

Liz felt a chill run down her spine. She had seen Elijah just yesterday, alive and well, which confirmed her suspicions about the Salvatores as well. But she kept her thoughts to herself, offering only a nod to Carol.

"That gives me somewhere to start. I'll see if I can get in touch with John Gilbert and find out what he knows. Has anything else suspicious happened?"

"No," Carol answered, but the tremor in her voice suggested that fear still clung to her like a second skin.

"How much do Mason and Tyler know?"

Since Liz knew both of them spent a lot of time in company with the Salvatore's she figured they might know more than either herself or Carol did. She mostly asked for the sake of form, and to try and see if Carol suspected anything.

"Not much. I told them we'd have to wait to see what the Coroner said but it was suspected to be a heart attack or an aneurysm of some kind, something health related."

"We should keep it that way. Neither of them are on the council, we should keep this strictly need to know for now."

"Find them Liz." Carol ordered, a steely look in her eyes, "Find who did this to Richard."

"I will."

The atmosphere was electric, charged with a palpable tension that settled heavily in the room.

"They hurt Caroline. I'm not going anywhere!" Stefan declared, his voice a testament to his resolve, unwavering and firm.

Beside him, Tyler's words cut through the silence with equal determination,

"My dad is dead. I'm staying!"

The weight of their reasons hung in the air, undeniable and respected. Klaus was rather indifferent to the presence of Stefan or Tyler. They both had their reasons for staying and he felt no need for objection. Stefan's own past was shadowed in brutality, he may have changed from the man he was in the twenties, but that didn't make him a stranger to violence. Tyler may be young, but he was a werewolf, not triggered yet that was true, but given his association with the rest of them, Klaus found it unlikely that he would go through the rest of his life without doing so. And though young, he was old enough to make his own decision about this.

Elijah's stance was a stark contrast. His disapproval was as clear as day, his eyes betraying his displeasure at their decision to remain. Finn, seemed to be wavering, clearly part of him was in agreement with Elijah's chosen stance, but it was just as obvious that he also felt they had a right to be here. Kol seemed to find their presence just as unobjectionable as Klaus did.

Honestly, the only person he wouldn't want present was Maya. Though her presence, he mused, would have been unanimously unwelcome. Luckily, she was miles away, buried in her schoolwork, under the innocent belief that their planned 'questioning of the wolves' involved nothing more than a potion-induced truth session. Which they would probably eventually do, they were just going to use a more traditional method of extracting answers first.

"This is going to be brutal and bloody." Elijah stated plainly, his words heavy with a grim acceptance. His frown was deep, etched with the understanding of what was to come. "It would be best if you left us to it."

"Elijah, I'm no stranger to violence." Stefan responded, echoing Klaus' earlier thoughts. "I can handle this."

"My dad is dead." Tyler stated again, slightly more forcefully than before, "He may have been a dick, but he didn't deserve to die, I want to be here. I want to know why."

Klaus resisted pointing out they already knew why. Mason had recognised a symbol left behind at the scene, it's presence making it clear that his former pack had been responsible for killing the Mayor. It was the traitor's mark, clearly left to make a point to Mason, he had betrayed the pack, and he would be punished for it. His brother's death was likely just the start, truthfully Caroline's abduction and torture had been the start, but that had been aimed more at getting information than a way to punish Mason.

Unfortunately for them, they would be dealt with sooner rather than later. After all, he and his siblings were much more practiced at getting information than this Jules woman was. Soon enough they would know where the rest of the pack were hiding, they would be rounded up and punished for their actions. He wouldn't turn them, they didn't deserve the honour of it, they would be killed, one by one. Jules' death would be left till last, so she could bear witness to what her own actions had wrought upon her pack. A just punishment.

They just had to find them first, and to do that they needed to get answers out of the prisoners, and to do that they needed to bring an end to this pointless argument.

"Enough. Elijah. If they want to stay, they can stay." He asserted, "if it becomes too much for either of them then they can leave."

Seeing nods of agreement from Kol and Finn, Elijah relented.

"Fine. Which one are we starting with?"

Klaus and Kol grinned in delight; it had been a while since either of them had been given the chance to get their hands bloody. It probably said a lot about both of them, how much they were looking forward to this. Most people would likely make the argument that it was their vampiric natures that made them delight in the brutality. Klaus was of the opinion that it had much more to do with their Viking upbringing than anything else. After all, none of them had been strangers to violence and bloodshed before mother had cast her curse upon them.

"This one." Kol replied, dragging forward one of the wolves.

He was struggling fiercely, a dark anger in his eyes, but he was no match for Kol. Klaus approved of the choice; the angry ones were always much more fun to play with than the scared ones. Kol forced him into the chair they'd got ready, and together he and Finn bound him tight enough that there would be no chance of his breaking free. Klaus stepped forward, and grabbed the man's chin, forcing him to meet his eyes.

"Hello mate,"

A cheerful tone, at odds with the clear threat of pain often scared people more than an aggressive one did. Klaus personally just liked the dichotomy of it.

"We have some questions for you."

He dug his thumbs in below the man's eyes, slowly increasing the pressure until he drew a pained scream, before releasing him, just before he reached the point where his eyeballs would have popped from his sockets.

"You can answer them or not, your choice. Just know, we're all exceptionally good at causing pain." Klaus' grin was full of teeth as he allowed both sets of fangs to come out, "So, let's get started, shall we?"

Maya's lunch, mostly consumed but abandoned without her characteristic zest for flavours, sent ripples of concern through her circle of friends. Not even the vibrant chatter of the school cafeteria could mask the palpable shift in her demeanour. Kamala, Sora, Ronan, and Aiden exchanged knowing glances, the silent language of friendship speaking volumes about their shared worry. As lessons veered into the realm of revision in anticipation of looming exams, teachers remained oblivious to Maya's uncharacteristic quietude. But her friends, attuned to the subtleties of her moods, sensed the disturbance in the force that was Maya's usual vibrancy.

Sora, acting on a silent cue from Kamala, discreetly cast a Muffliato spell. This little piece of arcane knowledge, a gift from Maya's godfather, proved invaluable for private conversations. Kamala and Aiden, inspired by this spell, had been toiling to adapt a version suitable for channelers. Their progress was promising, a testament to their ingenuity and determination, they just weren't quite there yet.

With Sora's assurance of privacy, Kamala gently but firmly removed the plate from before Maya, snapping her back to the present. Surrounded by faces etched with concern, Maya found herself at a loss.

"What?" she asked, her voice a blend of confusion and defensiveness.

"Something's off," Sora declared, her voice a beacon of certainty. "You've been...different today."

Kamala's question cut closer to the heart.

"Is it about your father? Did he...do something again?"

The shared secret of Maya's heritage, known only to this close-knit group and a handful of professors, weighed heavily in the air. Maya had confided in Kamala and Sora first, bringing Aiden and Ronan into the fold later. Their acceptance had been unwavering, a testament to the strength of their bond. Aiden had said it best: Maya was Maya, irrespective of her lineage. It was her essence, her being, that had endeared her to them. This acceptance had anchored Maya, providing a sense of belonging and validation that was irreplaceable.

Maya's first meeting with her father, a figure of complexity and contention, had been a frequent topic among them over the past month. From Maya's tales of his actions to their collective brainstorming of pranks as a form of rebellion, they had navigated the emotional tumult together. Yet, his recent attempts at connection—soccer games, museum visits, and an eagerly anticipated trip to the zoo—had marked a tentative thawing in their frosty relationship.

Thus, the only plausible explanation for Maya's current state, they surmised, was an incident this past weekend, perhaps a misstep by her father or perhaps something else, either way they were worried. The concern was palpable, a silent question hanging in the air, waiting for Maya to unravel the mystery of her unrest.

Maya shook her head.

"It wasn't Kl–, it wasn't my father."

"Then what?" Aiden asked.

Ronan put his hand other Maya's a gentle pressure, an acknowledgement that he was there for her whatever it was, they all were.

"You don't have to tell us if you don't want to. We're just worried."

"It wasn't my father. He didn't do anything." Maya repeated, "It was… You know my heart-siblings, Caroline, and Tyler?"

They all nodded, all four of them had met the two older teens Maya had declared to be her siblings, Sora, and Kamala months ago, and Aiden and Ronan at the Beltane festival.

"A pack of werewolves came to Mystic Falls, the pack Tyler's uncle Mason used to belong to. On Saturday, while I was at the zoo with Babbo and my father, they kidnapped and tortured Caroline." Maya confided, her voice trembling but determined to convey the severity of the situation.

Her friends' reactions were visceral—a collective intake of breath, eyes widening in shock. Yet, Maya's raised hand stilled their burgeoning questions and expressions of outrage, urging patience as she continued.

"Uncle Stefan, Aunty Bex, Uncle Finn and Uncle Kol rescued her and she's gonna a be okay, physically she already is but she needs time to come to terms with it." Maya explained, her words dipped in a blend of sorrow and resilience. It was a phrase often used by Dr Sam, who disapproved of phrases such as 'get over it' or 'move past it.'

"And then, just yesterday, one of those werewolves...they killed Tyler's dad," Maya finished, the weight of her words hanging between them like a sombre veil.

Kamala and Sora sitting on either side of Maya engulfed her in a hug, as they processed the gravity of Maya's news. All of them had met and liked Tyler and were sorry for his loss, and all of them were worried about this new danger that threatened Maya.

"It's being dealt with though?" Aiden asked, voicing what they were all thinking.

Maya nodded.

"My father, and my uncles are getting answers out of some of the werewolves they captured on Saturday. They're gonna find the woman responsible for it all and deal with her."

None of them were under any illusions as to the reality behind Maya's open implications.

Sora and Kamala shared a troubled look, they had both been raised believing in justice and the rule of law. They both understood that when it came to supernatural beings it wasn't always as simple as that. MACUSA had laws and ways of dealing with most supernatural's, but when it came to conflict between vampires and non-magical werewolves, they tended to steer clear as long as it didn't risk exposing magic to the world.

Aiden and Ronan with their ties to the fey, particularly Ronan whose father was a Fossergrim, knew better than most that the Wixen laws were for themselves first and other supernatural's second. That they didn't always provide justice to everyone in need of it. That for some supernatural's, providing justice their own way was the only answer. And that protecting people, in this case Maya and her family, required a little brutality.

Maya knew from personal experience that the rule of law wasn't always enough. That the auror's couldn't always provide justice to those who needed it. That some laws got in the way of doing what was right. After all, hadn't she had to run away just to be safe from the Dursley's. Hadn't the goblins had to deal with Voldemort because no one else could. Justice and the rule of law were great ideals, but they didn't translate into reality. Not completely anyway.

She shrugged off their shared look, accepting that somethings couldn't really be understood until they'd been experienced.

"I was going to curse her," she admitted, "Babbo stopped me."

None of her friends were at all surprised, they knew her well enough to know she had one hell of a temper and a vindictive streak a mile wide.

Kamala and Sora hugged her again, telling her without words that they were there for her if she needed to talk. Ronan squeezed her hand again and Aiden sent her a small smile, the same message in their gestures. All of them satisfied now that they'd got to the root of what was causing Maya's unusual behaviour.

With the night cloaked in anticipation and the moon inching towards its zenith, Jules conducted her final reconnaissance. Ensuring her pack encircled the Salvatore residence. It was where most of the town's vampires congregated and so it was the perfect target for tonight's attack. Tonight was more than an assault; it was a declaration, a reclaiming of power. By dawn, the vampire ranks would dwindle, justice for her fallen brethren inching closer, and the mysteries surrounding Brady's demise would edge towards resolution.

Jules harboured no illusions of Brady's survival. The absence of any sign from her diligent pack members spoke volumes. It was not just about finding where he lay; it was about honouring him through cremation, adhering to their ancestral rites. Moreover, it was about exacting retribution on all those intertwined with his untimely end. Then she would take her pack, take Tyler Lockwood, and get out of this town.

As the moon claimed its throne in the sky, a visceral transformation unfolded. Jules welcomed the agonizing yet familiar metamorphosis, her bones realigning, her essence merging with the lupine spirit. Her pack mirrored her transition, their forms blurring into the silhouettes of formidable wolves.

Silence was their prelude to havoc. With a soft chuff, Jules unleashed the signal. Like shadows propelled by vengeance, they surged towards the Salvatore house. Within its ancient walls, their adversaries awaited, unaware of the storm that raced across the distance to reclaim what was lost and to forge a path towards a resolution steeped in fire and blood.