Damon’s POV
The room smelled like smoke and bourbon. Two scents that had become my closest companions in the last few hours—not that either was helping. My office was a disaster zone. Books lay scattered everywhere, their spines cracked, pages torn, knowledge useless. The fireplace still glowed faintly with the remains of my latest fit of frustration.
I leaned back in my chair, swirling the amber liquid in my glass, staring at nothing in particular. I’d probably regret torching those books later, but right now? Regret wasn’t exactly high on my list of priorities.
The Originals.
That word was a splinter in my brain. The first vampires. The ones who, apparently, were untouchable. I’d gone through every text, every bit of lore I had, and nothing. Not a single page of information that help
