The road into Mystic Falls was lined with ash trees and good intentions.
Malik stood on the back of a horse-drawn wagon, arms folded, sharp eyes scanning the sleepy town as it came into view. It looked peaceful — too peaceful — like a painting that didn't want to admit it was cracking beneath the brushstrokes.
Emily walked beside the wagon, her black bonnet pulled low, a cloak drawn tight over her shoulders.
"You said this place is protected," Malik muttered.
"It is," she replied. "The Founders keep the town clean. Wards, blood pacts, old rituals." Her voice was tired. "But protection doesn't mean safety. Remember that."
He nodded once, noting every patrol, every watchful glance. A town that hides something behind politeness was more dangerous than one that showed its teeth.
Emily's New Cottage – That Evening
The house wasn't large. A white-painted cottage tucked just behind the cemetery. The inside smelled like dust and cedar. There were herbs strung from the beams already, a small altar set in the corner.
Malik dropped his travel bag by the fireplace. "You really think Katherine's here?"
"I know she is," Emily said, carefully arranging stones in a protective ring around the house.
"She's the one you helped escape, isn't she?" Malik asked. "Back in England."
Emily didn't answer right away.
"She was just a girl," she said finally. "A pregnant girl being hunted by monsters. I helped her because no one else would."
"And now?"
Emily met his gaze. "Now she's a monster herself. But still one I owe."
Three Days Later – The Founders' Ball
The Lockwoods threw the ball, but the entire town showed up. Malik had never seen so many finely dressed liars in one room.
He stood near the back wall, wearing a black coat tailored to fit his lean frame. His curls were tied back neatly, his expression unreadable.
He'd been watching her for ten minutes now.
Katherine.
She floated through the crowd in a crimson gown, lips painted like blood, eyes gleaming with amusement and calculation. Every man looked at her like she was an answered prayer. Every woman like she was a threat.
She was both.
"Are you just going to stare?" came a voice beside him.
Malik turned slightly.
The man beside him was tall, broad-shouldered, green eyes sharp but young. Seventeen, maybe eighteen.
"Stefan," the boy offered, extending a hand.
"Malik."
Stefan looked him over. "Haven't seen you before."
"New in town."
Stefan smiled politely. "Well, welcome to Mystic Falls. You'll find it's… complicated."
"I like complicated," Malik said, lips twitching into something close to a smile.
"Good," came another voice — lower, lazier, with just the edge of a smirk.
Damon Salvatore stepped forward, drink in hand, posture relaxed like he had no intention of staying sober or behaving.
"Because you just met it."
Later That Night – Garden Terrace
Katherine found him.
Of course she did.
"You're the boy Emily brought," she said, appearing at his side like smoke. "I heard you were handsome."
"And you're Katherine," Malik replied calmly. "I heard you were dangerous."
She laughed softly, tilting her head. "Smart and sharp. You're going to be fun."
"I'm not here to entertain you."
"No," she said, stepping closer. "But I think you're here to decide something."
"Decide what?"
"Whether you're like your mother… or like me."
Their eyes locked.
Malik didn't blink.
"I'm not like either of you," he said.
Katherine's smile widened. "We'll see."
Next Day – Salvatore Manor
Emily sent Malik to deliver herbs to Giuseppe Salvatore — a favor wrapped in politics.
He didn't care for the man. Giuseppe's handshake was cold, his eyes calculating. He thanked Malik without really seeing him.
But Stefan greeted him with warmth again.
And Damon… well, Damon wasn't far behind.
"You again," Damon said from the staircase. "You stalking us, or just drawn to good looks?"
"I came for your father," Malik said.
"Well, terrible taste, but welcome all the same."
Malik raised a brow. "You always this obnoxious?"
Damon grinned. "Only when I'm awake."
That Evening – The Stables
Malik stayed a while.
He found Stefan out by the horses, brushing down a chestnut mare.
"You're not like your father," Malik said plainly.
Stefan paused. "No. But I used to wish I was."
"Why?"
"Because he's strong," Stefan answered. "Because he doesn't doubt himself. Because… people listen to him."
Malik leaned on the fence. "Power doesn't make you right."
Stefan gave a small smile. "You sound like Katherine."
Malik glanced at him. "I don't belong to her."
"No one does," Stefan said. "Not really."
A moment passed.
Then Malik added, "But some people let themselves be owned."