Klaus stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, his breath catching despite not needing air. The face moved through the crowd thirty feet ahead — a woman's profile, sharp cheekbones and dark hair pulled back in exactly the way she used to wear it. He pushed forward, shoulders bumping strangers, but the street was thick with people. She turned a corner. He broke into a run. The directional sign for Mystic Falls flashed past on his left. Ahead, the massive fountain rose from the plaza, water cascading down its carved stone tiers. Tourists clustered around it with cameras and children. The woman's dark coat appeared for a moment on the far side, then vanished behind the fountain's bulk. Klaus circled left, then right. Nothing. He scanned every face in the crowd. She was gone. Klaus stood by the fountain's edge, water mist cooling his face. His hands were shaking. In three hundred years of searching through registries and land deeds, he had never seen her bloodline in a living face. Until thirty seconds ago. Until he lost it. He pulled out his phone and opened his notes. The crowd kept moving around him, but he stayed still, typing everything he could remember — the angle of her jaw, the set of her shoulders, the street she'd turned onto. It wasn't much. But it was more than he'd had this morning. Something glinted near the fountain's base. A locket lay on the wet stone where the woman had stood moments before. Klaus picked it up, his fingers trembling as he opened the clasp. Inside was a miniature portrait, faded but clear — a face he knew better than his own. The face he'd buried centuries ago. He closed his fist around the locket and looked back at the direction she'd gone. This wasn't chance. This wasn't coincidence. Someone knew he was looking. And now they knew he'd found them.