She could feel it in the air behind her. The anticipation. The game. He wasn't chasing Bella. Not really. He was chasing the challenge.
And maybe... that scent.
He didn't understand it yet, not consciously. But somewhere inside that twisted predator's mind, something was bothering him. The scent wasn't pure Bella—it had something else. Something male, something human, but different.
Aiden.
Rosalie didn't know what it meant, but she felt it in the marrow of her bones: she had to keep running, and had to lead James as far away from Forks as possible. From Aiden. From everything she wasn't ready to lose.
And yet, even as her speed tripled and trees blurred to shadows, she couldn't shake the nagging dread that James was getting closer.
Enjoying himself more.
And that he wouldn't stop until one of them was dead.
Rosalie skidded to a halt in the middle of a clearing, her clothes torn at the shoulder, hair wild and tangled. Her stance was feral, defensive—but poised with deadly grace. Her golden eyes burned with fury,
James was closing in—his red eyes gleaming with savage delight beneath the storm's flickering light. She could almost hear the thrill radiating off him like electricity.
James lunged.
Rosalie dodged, spinning low, dragging her heel through the dirt before slamming her elbow into his ribs. The crack echoed through the trees.
"Still think I'm prey?" she hissed, snarling.
He laughed—manic and breathless. "You're just... practice."
Without hesitation, she spun, claws out, instincts sharp and ready. The rain slicked the ground, but she moved with precision and grace born of years of survival. James lunged, swift and brutal, his hands aiming to pin her down.
They collided in a violent clash—fury and speed tangled like storm clouds crashing. Rosalie's nails scraped against his skin, leaving shallow, burning lines as she fought to gain the upper hand. Her breath came hard and ragged, muscles screaming as she threw everything into the fight.
Rosalie's eyes narrowed. "You're not walking away from this."
James grinned again, baring his teeth. "You're good. But not good enough."
For a moment, it seemed like she might win. James staggered back, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. She slammed him back against a tree, cracking the trunk down the middle. But James twisted like smoke, breaking free. But the hunter's resilience was fierce.
He recovered quickly, he twisted out of her grasp and retaliated, slicing a clawed hand across her abdomen. Not enough to cripple her, but enough to keep her down for a time.
"You're not her," he growled, "but you're fun."
Before she could react, he melted into the shadows, disappearing into the woods with a predator's quiet step.
Rosalie crouched low, chest heaving, rain mingling with sweat on her skin. She barely had time to process the narrow escape before adrenaline sharpened her senses again.
James was gone, and she let him go.
She was lucky this time.
But the game wasn't over. Not by a long shot.