(Thomas POV)
The lights of Florence spread below us like a constellation brought down to earth. After the silence of the countryside, the city's noise felt alive, the hum of traffic, voices, music spilling faintly from cafes still open near midnight.
Marco pulled to the curb near the airport terminal and shut off the engine with a satisfied sigh. "See?" he said, turning around with a grin. "All alive. No crashes. I even beat my own record."
Alice handed him another stack of bills without looking up from her phone. "You drive like a madman, but you're efficient. Keep it that way."
He blinked at the cash, then laughed. "If you ever need to escape another city, you know who to call."
We unloaded our bags quickly. I adjusted my pack, the same one I'd carried from the mountains, and followed the others toward the terminal doors.
Inside, everything was too bright. The harsh airport lights turned pale faces paler, and even the Cullen's' smooth composure looked frayed at the edges. Bella moved quietly, keeping close to Edward, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion and something heavier, the aftertaste of mortality.
Alice managed our tickets in minutes. First flight to Paris, then a connection to Seattle. She moved like she'd already memorized the entire route, her mind three steps ahead of everyone else.
Edythe brushed my arm, her voice low. "Are you all right?"
I nodded, though the truth was harder to name. "Just ready to be home."
She smiled faintly, small, tired, but real. "Then let's go home."
Edythe and I sat together near the back, a buffer of silence between us and the rest of the cabin. She leaned her head against my shoulder, her hair catching the faint light from the aisle.
After a long moment she spoke, her tone casual, too casual. "So… were there any girls in Nepal?"
I arched a brow, though she couldn't see it. "That sounds like a loaded question."
The short flight from Florence to Paris was quiet as everyone seemed to spend their time working through the events of Volterra internally.
The Paris connection was a blur of security lines and half-understood announcements. By the time we boarded the long flight west, the adrenaline had bled away, leaving only fatigue.
The cabin lights dimmed soon after takeoff. Most of the passengers settled into the soft hush of sleep, but rest didn't come easily to any of us.
Bella sat across the aisle, her head resting against Edward's shoulder. Her eyes kept fluttering closed, then snapping open again, like she was afraid the world might change if she blinked too long. Edward whispered something low and soothing that made her shoulders relax, but her gaze stayed fixed on him, stubbornly awake.
A few minutes later, she pressed the call button and asked the attending stewardess for a soda. Edward's sigh was quiet, affectionate, resigned.
I had to fight a smile. Her low tolerance for caffeine would keep her wired for hours—but knowing Bella, that was exactly the point. She wasn't about to sleep through a single second she could spend with him.
Across the aisle, Alice sat a few rows ahead, pretending to read a fashion magazine but really staring out the window at the thinning stars. Every so often she'd smile faintly, like she was seeing a vision she didn't intend to share.
Edythe and I sat together near the back, a buffer of silence between us and the rest of the cabin. She leaned her head against the seatback, her eyes half-closed but not resting. Her stillness wasn't sleep, it was thought.
After a while, she turned slightly toward me, her voice low enough to be lost under the hum of the engines.
"So," she said, "how was life in the mountains when you weren't wrestling fire or meditating with Rohan?"
I smiled faintly. "Quieter. Colder. Simpler."
Her golden eyes opened fully now, studying me. "And the people?"
I hesitated, realizing where this was going. "Tough. Focused. Good-hearted."
"Any of them… friendly?" The question was casual, but there was an edge to it, a teasing, almost playful tension.
I couldn't help the grin that tugged at my mouth. "One or two. But only one that really stood out."
Edythe arched a brow. "Oh?"
"She was talented," I said, careful to keep my tone even. "Fast. Ambitious. Maybe too ambitious."
Her expression shifted, somewhere between curiosity and mild possessiveness. "What did she want from you?"
I exhaled through my nose, a small laugh escaping. "Apparently, my genetics. Said she wanted my 'strength' in her clan line."
Edythe blinked once, then scoffed. "So romantic."
"Right?" I said, "I told her I was already taken."
Her voice softened, but her eyes gleamed. "And did she believe you?"
I laughed, "She offered to share."
For a moment, Edythe didn't answer. Then she leaned back in her seat, studying me with that calm, golden gaze that could see straight through pretense.
"Well," she said finally, her tone thoughtful rather than angry. "Sharing isn't always wrong… but it depends on why."
That caught me off guard. "Oh?"
She nodded once, gaze drifting toward the dark window where dawn still hadn't reached. "There's a difference between wanting to possess something and wanting to belong with someone. What she wanted from you sounded like ownership."
Her fingers brushed mine, soft and deliberate. "I could never share out of greed. But love, real love, has room, if it's freely given."
I looked at her, struck silent for a long moment. "That's… not the answer I expected."
A small, knowing smile curved her lips. "I've had a century to think about what I can live with, Thomas. Jealousy isn't the same as love. Not for me."
She leaned back slightly, eyes tracing the faint reflection of light on the cabin wall. "You forget, I've… shared before. Once."
The tone of her voice told me she wasn't embarrassed, just remembering.
"Kate," I said quietly.
Edythe nodded. "It wasn't the same kind of love I feel with you. But she understood what it means to give without fear, to choose closeness instead of control. That's rare, even among immortals."
Her gaze slid back to me, soft but direct. "So no, the idea of sharing doesn't frighten me. But it would have to be someone who belongs with us, not someone trying to take a piece of what we are."
Something in her words settled deep in my chest. It wasn't permission, it was trust. And that felt heavier, more sacred than anything else she could have said.
I smiled faintly. "You always surprise me."
Edythe's lips curved just enough to show the edge of a smirk. "I should hope so. You'd get bored otherwise."
I chuckled softly, but the warmth of her words pressed against something in me that wasn't ready to stay exposed. I leaned back, looking past her toward the other side of the cabin.
Across the aisle, Bella was still wide awake, her fingers tangled with Edward's like she was afraid to let go. Every time he shifted, even to adjust his seatbelt, her grip tightened, a quiet panic she probably didn't even realize she was showing.
"She's terrified," I said quietly.
Edythe followed my gaze. "Of what?"
"That he'll leave her again," I said. "She's not resting, not because she's afraid of sleeping, but because she's afraid of waking up alone. She's watching him like he might vanish if she blinks."
Edythe studied Bella for a moment, then exhaled softly. "You're probably right."
I shrugged, pretending it was a casual observation. "It's hard to build trust after that kind of break."
Her hand brushed mine again, but this time I didn't look her way. I wasn't talking about Bella anymore, and we both knew it.
The silence between us stretched, not uncomfortable, just… honest. The hum of the engines filled it, a steady rhythm against the weight of our thoughts.
The airport in Seattle was half-asleep under the weight of early dawn — silver light just beginning to touch the glass walls as we stepped through the arrivals gate.
Alice spotted Jasper before the rest of us. He stood just beyond the security line, motionless, but his posture gave him away. He wasn't breathing. The moment Alice appeared, the stillness broke.
He was at her side as quickly as he could be while keeping the human masquerade for the humans in the area. His hands framed her face like he had to be sure she was real, and while there were no other shows of affection, anyone looking at them looked away like they were intruding on something profoundly intimate. Alice only smiled, small but steady, and whispered something that made his eyes close briefly, a silent exhale of relief.
The rest of the family waited a few steps back. Esme was the first to move. She crossed the floor with that soft, measured grace only she could manage, her arms open. Edward didn't hesitate. For a moment, the air around them felt lighter.
"I'm so glad you're safe," she whispered against his shoulder, but her tone shifted when she pulled back. Her golden eyes looked as if they should have tears in them. "But don't you ever put us through something like that again, do you understand?"
Edward's voice was quiet. "I do. And I'm sorry."
Esme's expression softened, but the hurt didn't fade. She turned her gaze briefly toward Bella, full of love and appreciation for what she had done, before she reached to smooth Edward's hair like he was still her boy, still her son who'd scared her half to death.
Carlisle stood a step behind her, his expression calm but shadowed. "You made your choice," he said, his tone even but heavy. "And I won't judge the pain that led to it. But Edward, you must understand, your choices echo through all of us."
"I know," Edward said, his voice barely more than breath.
Carlisle placed a hand on his shoulder, a father's touch filled with understanding and disappointment all at once. "Good. Then learn from it."