Edward's fist came down one more time — crack — and then he stood, chest heaving, hands left dark cracks along James face.
Alice knelt by Bella.
"We have to act fast," she said. "That bite is spreading."
Edward stumbled toward them, still trembling.
His eyes were black with hunger.
And guilt.
James barely had time to scream.
Emmett hit him from the side like a wrecking ball, teeth bared, fury radiating off him in waves. Jasper followed, eerily silent, his rage cold and surgical as he slammed his elbow into James's spine, driving him down.
James thrashed, bleeding and laughing—always laughing—even as they tore him limb from limb.
Alice was already gathering the kindling — ripped canvas, splintered wood, ballet shoes stained in blood. The scent of Bella's injury was overwhelming, but her focus was razor-sharp.
She threw James's twitching arm into the pile, followed by a chunk of torso Emmett ripped free with a snarl.
Flames were rising fast.
And still James smiled.
"You think this ends with me?" he wheezed. "She's marked. So is the other one—"
Alice silenced him with one swift stomp of her heel to his jaw. It shattered like glass.
Then came the fire.
The flames roared to life as Alice lit the match and dropped it.
Smoke curled around the shattered mirrors and broken bodies, swallowing James's remains in a hungry inferno. His screams turned to shrieks… then to nothing but crackling bone and blistering air.
But across the room—Bella was dying.
Her leg was snapped, her arm slick with blood. Her breathing was shallow and fast, eyes half-lidded, skin ghost-pale.
Edward was frozen beside her.
Fangs bared. Hands trembling. Desire and guilt clawing at him from the inside.
Carlisle appeared, coat flaring as he dropped to his knees beside them.
"Edward. Look at me," Carlisle said firmly. "You need to focus. If you don't stop the venom—"
"I can't," Edward rasped, staring at the blood on her arm. "I don't know if I can stop."
Carlisle pressed a calming hand to his shoulder.
"You must. Or you'll lose her forever."
The fire raged behind them.
Alice stood watch, face hard as stone, Elise nearby with a fire extinguisher in case things spread too far.
Jasper kept his distance, keeping his own thirst in check, while trying to dull Edward's emotions — to steady his hands.
But only one thing mattered now:
Bella's fate.
Edward leaned forward, pressing his lips to her arm. His teeth sank in, deliberate.
Bella gasped—her fingers twitching weakly—but she didn't scream.
The firelight made the tears in Edward's eyes shimmer as he drank just enough.
Only enough.
Then he pulled back, shuddering violently, choking on the taste of her blood.
"She's stable," Carlisle murmured, checking her pulse. "Barely."
They had won.
But not without a cost.
James's ashes curled into the ceiling, and Bella lay motionless, between life and something darker.
And Edward—his face a mask of pain—held her hand as if he could will her soul to stay.
[Moment later…]
The wind was dry. Hot. Unforgiving.
It tasted like cinders and dust. And death.
Victoria stood barefoot on the overpass, her red hair whipping in the breeze like a flame that refused to go out. Beneath her, the city breathed — neon lights flickering, traffic humming like blood through veins.
But above all that, above everything else, she smelled him.
James.
Or what was left of him.
The ashes had scattered downwind, but she'd followed every trace. From the ballet studio where he'd lured the girl, to the alley where the Cullens had made their stand.
The trail ended here.
All that remained now was the stench of burning vampire — venom seared from bones, rage twisted into smoke, the final screams of a predator who thought he couldn't be hunted.
Her fingers curled into fists.
She didn't cry.
Victoria didn't break down.
She burned cold.
"You always get cocky near the end," she said softly to the wind, eyes glinting. "Always thought you were faster than fate."
She dropped from the overpass, landing silent in the dry brush beside the ruined road. And disappeared like smoke.