The truth was, for hundreds of years, they had kept the truth about their family secret. Yet Kol is tired of it. Tired of their stories and games. He has been mistreated after all he had taken from him, all they had stripped from him, and then punished him for being what they made him. He was sick of their games and all they used against him.

"You want to know what bothers me the most about that? I don't deny that I kill. I don't deny my nature. They do the same. They are murderous and bloodthirty and as deadly as I am, if not more, but because they pretend to act civilized and wear their expensive suits and flirt and tease and hide their fangs they think they're better than I am."

He snorts at that, rolling his eyes. "You get it though. And... you are not a prisoner here. Okay? Come and go when you want. Any time you want. Just know you are always welcome back."

And he means that. He's never said those words to another and while she might not know that, it means a lot to him to say it.

He turns on the lights, moving to open up a dusty cabinet. The room has been ignored for some time and he knows why. Marcel had left Rebekah's room alone.

He draws out a short beaded gown. "I kind of hate I missed the flapper and prohibition era. I bet I would have had a blast."