Hope couldn't understand why she still felt so horribly tired when she woke again but rolled onto her side to look at the clock. She realized it was three in the morning. Only three hours of sleep? A sudden thumping sound caught her attention, and she sat up in slow confusion. The thump came again and again. It seemed to be coming from outside.

Quickly adjusting her black cami strap to fit back on her shoulder, Hope slung her bare legs over the side of the bed and stood to her feet. She tip-toed to the window and pulled the curtain to her room open just enough to peer out into the night. Her heart dropped. Outside, piled in the back of a grimy green pickup truck, were the people she'd encountered in the diner miles back. No, that couldn't be possible. How was it they just happened to be here? Unless they had been following her.

A sweat broke out over her brow as she watched them. There were five, three guys and two girls. All were built tall and held a muscular appearance. It was easy to see they were capable. They were all laughing as if they were about to play some game. Hope had a horrible inkling that she knew the game they were playing, and she was the pawn.

The man she had seen before, with the tattooed knuckles, suddenly looked in her direction, and she quickly pulled the curtains shut. "Shit," she muttered. She ran a frantic shaky hand through her hair as she tried to think of what to do. Casting a glance over her phone sitting on the side table, she questioned if she should call someone. Her dad, Elijah. Anyone that might be able to talk her through this. She quickly shook her head, dispelling the idea immediately. It's your turn, remember? "Yeah, it's my turn to get killed..." she muttered under her breath.

There was going to be an ending tonight, and it was up to her if she'd end up on top. Hope made her decision in the silence as she pulled on a pair of jeans and stuffed her feet into her combat boots. She slipped on her black leather jacket and searched through the items she'd decided to take into the motel with her. It was lucky she had as she slid a glinting silver dagger into the side of her boot. If they wanted a fight, they'd get one. She was a Mikaelson, and they soon would learn not to toy with the original bloodline.

Hope inched herself closer to the window again and gazed out into the dark, frowning when she saw the truck had disappeared. "Where did you go?" she whispered to herself. A glitter of something shiny heading straight for her caused her to dive to her knees. The window above shattered, and glass flung in every direction. Hope looked to her right to see an arrow lying on the ruddy carpet. "What the hell-" Another arrow went soaring into the room again, sinking deeply into the wall. Either these people were incredibly dense or had nothing to lose.

It was time to decide, and the decision was to leave her belongings in the room behind and get out the door. She wouldn't be able to fight back if she couldn't see them in the first place. So Hope crawled to the door, reached up for the handle, and turned the knob, hiding behind the door.

Just as she thought, one of the men from outside started to walk in, but before he could get himself in the room, she slammed herself against the door, crushing his arm between the jam. If the shattering glass hadn't woken up the owner, then his scream would have. She'd broken his arm, she'd guess.

She opened the door again, and the man let out another howl of agony from the sudden pressure release. There was no time to make another decision, instincts took her body over, and she sent a hard kick into the abdomen of a woman with a blonde pixie cut and way too much eyeliner. The woman crashed into the wall opposite them, hitting her head hard against a glass picture frame, leaving a stain of crimson behind. Hope didn't stop to check her pulse and instead took off down the narrow hall. Two down, three more dangers to go. Fantastic.

It was almost like the world suddenly slowed down, like the earth all at once stopped in its rotation, and Hope could think a million miles per hour. Her heartbeat was pounding against her eardrums in a slow rhythmic pattern. She came to a halt in the hall, feeling a tickle on her skin that forced her to turn around, eyes catching sight of a silver-tipped arrow gliding smoothly through the air towards her. In the next moment, she reached a hand up and grabbed hold of the sleek black body of the arrow just inches before it could cause any damage to her face.

Just as quickly as time seemed to slow, it started up again, and she watched the other woman, who was much different from her petite partner, come running towards her. She had dark hair that had grown down to her tailbone and fierce green eyes that were just as sharp as the pointed arrows she used as weapons. Before Hope realized she'd released another arrow, there was a horrible pain in her right thigh.

A gasp of surprised pain forced its way up her throat, and she looked down; the arrow was stuck deep in her thigh. Hope looked up again, a sudden rush of angered adrenaline filling her to the brim. Her eyes turned a haunting amber yellow with dark veins crawling down her cheeks. Canines protruded from her gums, and she bared her fangs aggressively at the woman still stalking toward her. Then, in a quick action, Hope snapped the arrow off. She would worry about taking out the head later.

Hope planted her feet and extended a hand towards the woman, uttering the words "Per se qui e fracta toi, per se qui e total toi." The woman uttered a sudden screech, dropping the bow as the bones in her hands suddenly began to move, dislocating the joints and rendering her hands useless. A ring of fire surrounded the woman, an after effect of the maiming curse Hope had used.

She looked up, her eyes returning to their usual shade of brown, locking onto the two men standing at the other end of the hall. The man with the tattooed knuckles didn't seem frightened like the other scrawny one. He seemed surprised.

Taking a step back from the scene, Hope knew if she were going to make her escape, it would have to be now. Perhaps they better understood what she was capable of and that she wasn't the tribrid to attack in a dusty motel. She took off, rushed to her car, and slipped in. After peeling out of the parking lot forcefully, her tires burned a rubber mark on the pavement. She didn't dare look back to see if they'd started following her.

Maybe they had learned their lesson, or perhaps they had just accepted a challenge she hadn't meant to offer.

The remaining driving time seemed to pass quicker than Hope thought it would. But then again, she hadn't taken a break aside from an occasional stop for gas, and she may have been going a bit over the speed limit. Moreover, she hadn't pulled over to treat her wounded thigh, which still contained the arrowhead from her attacker.

It was nightfall again when she passed the sign that read Welcome to Beacon Hills pop. 30,000, and despite being dangerously tired, she wanted to shout out in victory. She'd made it, and that was all that mattered at this point. It was now time to find her temporary residence so she could catch up on some much-needed sleep. Putting her GPS on, she followed its instructions, letting herself take in the town as she went. It was nicer than she expected it to be. She knew how often photos could stretch the truth, but it wasn't lower than her higher expectations. She could see herself settling into her relatively quickly.

Hope passed by Beacon Hills high, watching as a team of lacrosse players played underneath bright field lights. On a Friday night? Football must not be a big deal here. She didn't mind, and it wasn't like she would be attending high school.

Not long later did, her GPS stated her destination was on her left. She pulled into the smooth driveway of a decently sized two-story house with white paneling and a chimney that reached up towards the sky. The porch was certainly big enough for her to relax outside if she chose to do so. It had a comfortable quality that resembled the rest of the neighborhood. It felt safe.

Walking past the SOLD sign in the yard, she glanced at the next-door neighbor's house. The mailbox read Stilinski in white lettering. It wasn't the strangest name she'd ever come across before. She took out the house key from her pocket and made herself very busy in the first few minutes of entering.

Hope wasn't concerned about unpacking until the morning, but what did come first was making sure the house was safe for her to live in. She stood where she felt was near the center of the home - between the kitchen and living room - and spoke a boundary spell, setting her twist upon it. "Otum adnarvet esnavit atim." Only those who did not wish her harm could enter the house unless invited in by herself. If the bandits, or whoever they were, decided to make an appearance, she would at the very least have the upper hand in a house where they couldn't set foot through the threshold.

Feeling pleased with herself, Hope carried in the remainder of her belongings and set them down on the hardwood of the living room floor. She had arranged with the realtor that the house's furnishings be complete for its ease, and now she was pleased she'd spent the extra money. After all, it wasn't as though they didn't have the money to spare.

The next task to be handled was that pesky arrowhead in her thigh. Hope looked down at the dried blood and bit down on her lower lip. She had, of course, already healed around the arrow, so now, taking it out was going to be twice as painful. She shook her head as the nerves started to cloud her thoughts. Generally, if she were hurt, Freya or Elijah would tend her wound.

"Stop being a coward," she scolded herself in a surprisingly stern tone. She searched through her boxes until she pulled out a bottle of scotch she'd snatched from her father's cabinet a long while back. She figured she might as well take it along rather than get in trouble with him. She'd continue to let him think Kol had swiped it.

Hope first took a very long drink of the scotch, not so much to take the pain away but more to get herself to take the fragment out without further hesitation. Then, letting it settle for a moment, she pressed her fingers against her thigh, dug in, grabbed ahold of the arrow by its head, and started pulling it out at a sideways angle, gritting her teeth as her tissue began to tear all over again.

The piece finally fell and clattered on the ground, soaking her hand in red. She waited for herself to heal correctly before cleaning up after herself, trying to scrub away any remaining memory of the incident.

Too tired to fix her bed upstairs from the pain and alcohol intake, she grabbed a throw blanket from one of the boxes, kicked her shoes off, and sunk into the couch. Almost immediately after laying her head on the armrest, sleep pulled her in deeply. Entering a dream world that she would likely forget once she woke, but oh, what a dream it was.