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FORKS, WASHINGTON
The sky over Forks, as usual, was blanketed by a thick layer of clouds that dulled any hint of sunlight. From inside the Cullen house, that grayish light filtered through the wide windows, filling the space with a dense, artificial calm—as if time itself had paused in a moment of silent waiting.
Bella sat at the edge of the couch, hands clasped over her knees, her face tense. There was something restless about her posture, a barely contained nervousness that showed in small gestures: fingers pressing against each other, a slight forward sway of her body, her gaze fixed on an invisible point on the floor.
Edward watched her in silence. He had taken a seat beside her minutes ago, trying to comfort her with his presence alone, but he knew that wasn't enough. Bella's anxiety wasn't superficial—it stemmed from something deeper, from the sense of standing at the center of a danger she couldn't control.
Finally, his voice broke the silence—low and velvety.
"Victoria won't get away much longer. Carlisle and the others will handle it soon. It's only a matter of time."
Bella nodded slowly, though she didn't lift her gaze. Her lips trembled slightly, as if she wanted to say something more but held it back. Edward tilted his head slightly, studying her profile. He didn't need to read her mind to know what she was thinking.
"I'm thinking about Charlie, too," he said softly, anticipating her. "But as long as you and I stay away from town most of the time, he'll be safer. Tonight, when his shift ends, I'll take you home. I'll stay close. He won't be alone."
She looked at him then, finally. Her eyes reflected a complex mix of emotions: relief, fear, guilt. She nodded again, this time with a faint sigh that seemed to ease something in her chest.
"Thank you," she murmured, almost in a whisper. Then, after a brief silence, she looked toward the window, veiled by the overcast sky. "Around what time do you think Carlisle and the others will reach Seattle?"
Edward took a moment to think. He pictured his family's departure that morning—their silent movements, the determination in their faces before disappearing into the trees. The scent of damp earth still lingered in the air when they left.
"They left early. They shouldn't be far. Maybe they're already close."
Bella nodded, but this time her expression darkened. Her lips pressed into a tense line, and her voice came out heavier, weighed down by regret.
"I should've gone with them. This is all because of me, and yet they're the ones risking everything."
Edward turned to her, his expression suddenly hardened by resolve.
"No," he said, firmly, leaving no room for argument. "If you'd gone, you would've been in danger. They would've tried to protect you, and that would've distracted them. You can't be both a target and a burden, Bella. Even Nate won't come near."
The name dropped like a stone in a still pond.
"Nate…" Bella repeated with nostalgia, her voice laced with emotion. The name gave her a sense of warmth. Besides Edward, Nate was someone who made her feel safe.
She straightened slightly, as if she might stand up, as if merely saying his name could bring him back. Her hands gripped the edge of the couch, and for a moment, her gaze filled with a different kind of anxiety—more personal, more pained.
"Is he okay? I haven't heard from him in days. He hasn't replied to my last messages. Wait… isn't Alice going to Seattle too?"
Edward looked at her with careful seriousness, as if choosing his words with extreme caution.
"She is," he finally replied. "But she doesn't want to expose Nate. They told me he'd stay there one more night, then come here. He'll be staying at my place for a few days until this is over."
Bella lowered her gaze, thoughtful.
"Why is he staying here?"
Edward answered in a firm but calm voice.
"Alice wants me to watch over him. I can't be going back and forth between your house and his all the time, so he'll stay with me until my family and the Denali confirm it's safe again."
Bella looked up with a flicker of relief in her eyes. The thought of Nate returning soon was comforting. There was something about his presence, his calm way of observing the world, that gave her a sense of balance. She hoped that when he returned, he'd tell her everything he'd discovered on his trip—all he'd seen and experienced. She also felt a small pang of curiosity about what it had been like that time alone with Alice.
She turned her gaze to Edward's eyes, trying not to seem too inquisitive, but he still caught the intensity in her stare, though he couldn't fully decipher its meaning.
Bella slowly looked away, her expression shifting ever so slightly, while a faint shadow passed through her thoughts.
Since arriving in Forks, her relationship with Edward had grown in ways she never imagined. She loved him deeply—with a silent devotion that sometimes hurt. But a part of her, quiet and persistent, wondered why they still hadn't crossed certain lines. Why did it feel like he always kept one foot at the edge of the abyss, as if afraid to lose control at any moment? And now, she couldn't help comparing their relationship to that of Nate and Alice. They seemed to complement each other so naturally. Bella had no idea how far they'd gone, but she doubted that after all that time alone, nothing had happened.
Unaware of all this, Edward allowed himself a brief smile.
"Alice was very insistent that I take care of Nate," he said, with a tone that blended surprise and a hint of tenderness. "I didn't expect her to act like that. She's always been optimistic, light-hearted, you know. But now she seems… different. More protective. She's really worried about her partner."
Bella let out a low laugh, laced with soft irony, tilting her head slightly as she looked at him.
"You're the last person who should say that," she murmured with a smile, amused.
Edward let out a brief, sincere laugh. That kind of shared humor felt like a balm, as if their hearts aligned for a moment, outside the danger and uncertainty surrounding them. In that moment, the tension that had hung over the house since morning eased slightly, like a fresh breeze slipping through an invisible crack.
The hours passed in a sort of domestic stillness. They chatted about trivial things, shared quiet confidences, and then played a few rounds of chess. Bella insisted that Edward not hold back, despite his initial protests. She lost twice, but enjoyed every moment—watching him move the pieces with an elegance that was almost choreographed, with a focus that mesmerized her.
Outside, the sky turned a deep blue, covered with clouds, soaked in silence. Night settled in without asking permission, wrapping the forest trees in its still presence.
Edward stood up with the softness of a sigh and looked out the window. Then he turned back to Bella.
"It's time. Let's go, I'll take you home."
Bella nodded with a faint smile and walked with Edward to the Volvo. The car had that polished, almost ghostly metallic sheen. Edward opened the passenger door with an automatic, elegant gesture, and once she was settled in, he slid fluidly into the driver's seat. He started the engine effortlessly, and within seconds, the car was gliding over the pavement, heading toward Bella's house.
During the drive, the landscape blurred into a stream of trees and telephone poles, and the hum of the engine wrapped itself in the silence they shared. Bella rested her head against the window for a few seconds, then turned slightly toward him.
"Once Charlie falls asleep, you can come in through the window," she said, as if it were a completely natural routine.
Edward smiled, that glint of complicity softening his face. "That was the plan anyway," he replied quietly. Then, with a nearly imperceptible shift in tone, he added, "I almost forgot to tell you, at some point tonight I'll stop by Nate's house to do a little patrol."
Bella raised an eyebrow, curious. "Why?"
Edward's expression shifted, becoming more somber. His eyes remained on the road, but his voice carried a different kind of seriousness. "I owe Nate. Before he left, he asked me to watch over his grandmother. I gave him my word. I've made a few quick visits, just to make sure she's okay… but I don't stay long. I don't want to leave my scent behind."
He paused briefly, and a faintly amused smirk touched his lips. "Although it's funny… I only passed by the house a couple of times, but Mrs. Winter spotted me immediately."
Bella let out a short laugh, picturing the scene. "I'm not surprised. That woman doesn't miss a thing."
The conversation relaxed, soft phrases and gentle smiles threading between them as the car glided through the nearly deserted streets of Forks. Night had fully settled in by the time they reached Bella's house. Edward turned off the engine, and for a few seconds, neither of them moved. Then they got out silently, walking together toward the entrance.
But after only a few steps, Edward stopped cold.
Bella immediately felt the tension ripple through his body, as if a jolt had shot from his spine to his fingertips. Before she could ask, he lifted an arm slightly, stopping her with delicate but firm pressure.
"Wait…" he murmured, jaw tight.
His eyes flashed with an intensity that chilled Bella to the bone. He inhaled deeply through his nose, brow furrowed, and a shadow of anger crossed his face.
"I smell a vampire in the house," he said in a low voice, clear as a blade.
Before Bella could even process the words, Edward vanished—an almost imperceptible blur of wind and speed—straight toward her bedroom window. The crunch of leaves, a faint whistle of air, and then silence.
Bella froze, staring at her window where he'd just disappeared. Her entire body tensed, waiting for a sign, dreading what he might find inside. The night, so quiet just moments before, now seemed to be holding its breath.
Edward came out of the house with his lips pressed tight and his brow furrowed. He closed the door harder than necessary and walked back to the car without looking back. Bella followed, heart clenched.
"What about Charlie?"
Edward shook his head, still visibly frustrated.
"Doesn't look like he's been here recently."
Bella stopped in her tracks, a chill crawling down her spine.
"Then… where is he? He was supposed to come straight home after work."
Edward avoided her eyes for a moment. Then he exhaled slowly.
"Let's not jump to conclusions. He might've stayed longer at the station. Let's check."
They got back into the Volvo and drove off in silence. Edward rolled the driver's window down just a crack, enough for the damp Forks air to slip inside. He didn't want to alarm Bella, but he needed to stay alert. Very alert.
The scent was there. Faint at first. A subtle trace, but unmistakable. Vampire.
He gripped the steering wheel tightly, as if that could calm the tension in his chest. But as they continued, the scent grew clearer, sharper. This wasn't the kind of presence that passed by accident.
Edward accelerated. The growl of the engine was the only sound breaking the silence for several minutes. Bella glanced at him sideways.
"Are you okay?"
It took him a moment to answer.
"Yeah. I just… want to get there quickly."
When they finally pulled up in front of the station, Bella already had her hand on the door handle. She jumped out before the car had fully stopped and ran to the entrance. Edward didn't move at first. He closed his eyes, focusing. The scent was stronger here. Fresh. Almost recent.
His expression hardened.
Bella returned a few minutes later, breathless.
"He's not here. Charlie left early. The receptionist said he went to visit Mrs. Winter."
Edward straightened instantly. His gaze sharpened like a knife.
"What is it? Do you think something happened?" Bella asked, alarmed by his reaction. "I'm coming with you."
"No, Bella, that's not a good idea." His tone was harsher than intended, but there was no time for softness.
"Please, Edward. I'm not going to sit here while my dad might be in danger."
He looked at her intently, the internal struggle clear in his eyes. He knew leaving her behind was even worse. He nodded with a contained sigh.
"Fine. But you do exactly what I say. Understood?"
"Understood."
They got back in the car. Edward started it up immediately and drove as fast as he could. The Volvos' headlights sliced through the fog like blades, and the silence between them grew thicker. The scent lingered, more persistent than ever.
And now, Edward wasn't hiding his concern anymore. He felt it in every fiber of his being. Because that trail wasn't just recent…
It was current.
......................................................
The drive was short, thanks to the speed at which Edward was driving. It only took them a few minutes to get there.
Edward parked the car in front of the house, the engine still vibrating under the hood. Bella had barely unbuckled her seatbelt when he stretched an arm out in front of her.
"Wait here."
His golden eyes were fixed on the house. From her seat, Bella looked at him in confusion, but Edward wasn't looking at her anymore. His face had hardened, jaw clenched tight. The air thickened, heavy and saturated. Through the crack of the window, a mix of intense smells reached her nose: fresh blood, the sickly-sweet stench of a newborn vampire… and the unmistakable scent of a wolf. Wet dog, earth, and rage.
Edward frowned.
A gut-wrenching howl echoed from inside, followed by a guttural roar and the crash of something —or someone— slamming into a wall. Wood cracked. Glass shattered. And then Charlie's voice: a scream of pain that sliced through the air like a blade.
Bella stirred in her seat, alarmed, but Edward was already out of the car.
He crossed the front yard in less than a second. The door was wide open.
Inside, the living room was chaos: overturned furniture, torn curtains, papers flying like leaves caught in a whirlwind. And in the center, a massive copper-furred wolf stood with jaws bared, growling, its throat soaked in foam and blood. In front of him, a blonde vampire with an athletic build faced off, face twisted, fangs exposed. His sweatshirt was ripped, and his sunglasses were lost among the wreckage.
Edward caught their thoughts in a blink.
The wolf's mind was a storm. Erratic, wild. It was all screams, impulses, rage:
Destroy. Kill. Protect.
He recognized him instantly. Jacob Black.
The vampire, on the other hand, was thinking in panic, every thought a spark of fear:
Victoria... I have to get back to Victoria. He'll kill me. He can kill me.
Edward tensed, ready to launch —but a stronger scent stopped him cold.
Blood.
He turned his head.
Against a broken shelf, Mrs. Winter lay on the floor, pale as wax, a trickle of blood escaping her parted lips. Her pulse was weak, but she was breathing. On the other side of the room, Charlie was unconscious, half-buried under the shattered remains of a table. His chest rose and fell slowly, but a dark, thick stream ran from his forehead and dripped onto the carpet.
Edward's fury paused for a heartbeat. He couldn't let the vampire escape, but he couldn't ignore the injured, either. Every nerve in his body demanded he act, attack, end this.
But one wrong move could cost lives.
He approached Charlie, who was closest. The smell of blood was overwhelming, almost solid in the air, as if it had soaked into the very walls. It was dense, metallic, suffocating. Charlie's body lay slumped against the wall. He was still breathing, but barely.
Then, a brutal thud snapped Edward's attention back. The vampire, with a single motion, backhanded the massive wolf. The impact boomed like thunder; Jacob flew across the room, crashing into the dining table, which exploded into splinters. The wooden legs cracked like breaking bones. The wolf rolled through glass and rubble, gouging the floor, but rose almost immediately, breathing heavily, foamy drool spilling from his jaws.
Jacob lifted his snout and sniffed. The moment he caught Edward's scent near Charlie, he growled —deep, threatening. His glowing amber eyes flashed with hatred and confusion.
Edward heard his thoughts like a stampede of screams: incoherent images, shards of memory, fear, and raw fury. No logic. Only instinct.
"Jacob, I'm not your enemy. Listen to me. You have to stop," Edward said firmly, locking eyes with him.
But the wolf lunged.
It was like a gunshot —a blur of muscle, claws, and teeth. Edward barely dodged the first swipe that whistled past his head and gouged a deep line in the wall. The second blow struck his chest, and he went down hard, Jacob's full weight crashing on top of him with a sickening crunch.
They struggled in the dust and debris. Jacob's claws raked for his throat, his chest, anything vulnerable, while Edward wrestled back, arms braced against the beast's body, pushing with everything he had to hold him off. The wolf's strength was staggering; Edward could feel the muscles trembling under the fur. A fang scraped his cheek, carving a shallow gash.
"Jacob, stop! He's getting away!" Edward shouted, feeling himself losing ground.
The vampire, in the back of the room, seized the chance. With supernatural speed, he leapt toward the window and burst through it in one motion, leaving a shower of glass in his wake.
"He's leaving! He's getting away!" Edward cried in desperation, turning his head just enough to see the shattered window, knowing that every second counted.
But Jacob didn't let go. He kept Edward pinned to the floor, his jaws so close that Edward could see strands of saliva stretched between his fangs. He was out of control.
The door slammed open, and a scream split the air:
"Edward!"
It was Bella.
She ran inside, panting, eyes wide at the scene. She saw the bodies on the ground, the blood, and Edward struggling beneath a hairy monster the size of a bear.
The wolf froze. His body trembled. He turned his head just slightly. His eyes met Bella's.
He hesitated.
Took a step back.
Then another. His paws dragged slowly across the floor, shaking his head violently, as if fighting something inside him. The growl in his throat softened, warping into a sound closer to a whimper. He looked at Edward one last time, and then, with a powerful leap, jumped through the same window as the vampire, vanishing into the darkness.
Edward got up at once, the wound on his cheek already closing. He was about to run after them —but Bella's voice held him in place.
"Edward, please," she sobbed, kneeling beside Charlie. "We have to get them to a hospital, please. Mrs. Winter… she needs help too…"
He turned to look at her —kneeling in blood, hands pressed to Charlie's head, face crumpled in anguish. Across the room, Mrs. Winter murmured something under her breath, bleeding out inches from a collapsed bookshelf.
And Bella, in the middle of it all, was trembling. Shattered.
Edward closed his eyes just for a second. A tense breath escaped his lips.
And then, with evident frustration, he moved toward them.
.......................................
What followed was an amalgam of short, vague answers. With Carlisle out of town, they had no choice but to call an ambulance. The fact that the local sheriff had been injured was scandalous enough for the news to spread like wildfire across Forks.
Not only did paramedics arrive at the Winters' house, but several patrol cars too. Red and blue lights washed over the windows like intermittent heartbeats. Edward and Bella said they had come to visit a friend's grandmother and found the house in that state. The most solid—and most convenient—theory was that a wild animal had broken in, attacking the occupants before fleeing when confronted.
The officers, though skeptical, couldn't deny that something violent had occurred inside. The claw marks and loose fur supported the theory. However, the final version of the story depended on just one thing: that Charlie woke up and could tell them what he remembered.
Both he and Mrs. Winter were taken to the nearest hospital. Charlie had a severe head contusion, several broken ribs, and bruises across his torso. Mrs. Winter was in even more delicate condition. Her advanced age had turned every bone to glass. The fall had left her with internal injuries requiring immediate intervention.
Edward and Bella remained in the hospital hallway for hours, silent, never leaving each other's side. Night slowly fell over Forks, wrapping everything in an almost tangible gloom. The waiting room smelled of disinfectant, and the only sounds were the occasional footsteps of nurses gliding through the corridors like shadows.
Finally, a doctor approached them, removing his latex gloves with a tired gesture. He told them they could go in to see the patients. They didn't hesitate.
Charlie's room was white and sterile, save for the monitor blinking with each heartbeat, emitting a steady beep. Charlie lay still, unconscious, a bandage wrapped around his head, breathing through his mouth.
Bella knelt beside the bed, tears running uncontrollably down her cheeks. She took his hand with reverent delicacy, as if afraid she might break him by touch alone.
She began to whisper apologies, her voice broken, the words chopped by choking sobs that barely formed coherent sentences. She clung to her father's hand as if she could anchor him to the world by touch alone, as if that contact could bring him back. The tears didn't stop, soaking the white sheet by his arm.
"I'm sorry, Dad…" she whispered again and again, buried in guilt, her forehead resting on the edge of the bed. "I'm so sorry for all of this…"
Edward stood a few steps behind her, rigid, his jaw clenched, eyes locked on Charlie. For a moment, he didn't know what to do. Then he slowly knelt and wrapped his arms around her from behind, holding her gently. Bella didn't resist. She collapsed into him like someone who could no longer hold herself up.
"It's my fault," Edward murmured, his voice low and tense, speaking into her ear. "I was the one who pulled you into this world… I heard him. I heard the vampire's thoughts… He was coming for you. Victoria sent him."
Bella didn't respond, but her sobs intensified for a moment, a spasm of pain rippling through her. She remained pressed against Charlie, still holding his hand, while Edward closed his eyes, feeling an icy stab twist in his chest.
This was the price. This was what it meant to fall in love with a human. Not just putting her at risk—but dragging everyone she loved down with her.
For several minutes, Edward didn't move. He just held her in silence, letting their guilt mix into a shared emptiness. The heart monitor marked time with each dry beep, breaking the silence like an artificial pulse.
When he noticed Bella's sobs beginning to subside, he spoke in a barely audible voice:
"I'm going to check on Mrs. Winter."
Bella lifted her face slightly, her eyes red from crying. She said nothing, just nodded weakly, still trembling, still clinging to Charlie.
Edward stood, casting one last glance at the unconscious man in the bed, and stepped out silently. His footsteps echoed softly down the corridor as he made his way to Mrs. Winter's room.
Just as he reached the door, a doctor emerged, drying his hands with a crumpled cloth. Edward recognized him immediately.
"You're Dr. Cullen's son, right?" the man asked, his voice heavy with tension, face exhausted.
Edward nodded stiffly, feeling the pressure in his chest grow. "How is she?"
The doctor looked down for a second, as if searching the floor for a less cruel way to say it. "We did everything we could. But… she's very weak. Whatever hit her did too much damage. All we can do now is keep her under observation and… hope for the best."
The sentence hung in the air like a sealed verdict. Edward took a deep breath. "Can I see her?"
The doctor hesitated a moment, then silently stepped aside. Edward entered.
The smell of alcohol and metal hit him immediately. The hum of machines was the only thing breaking the thick silence. Mrs. Winter lay there, motionless, pale as a winter leaf, wrapped in white sheets, her body reduced to fragile bones and withered skin. Monitors blinked lifelessly around her, as if they too knew time was running out.
Edward approached slowly, every step measured, as if the slightest sound could shatter what little life remained. He studied her closely: her lips barely trembled, her eyelids fluttered as if struggling to open. She wasn't fully unconscious. He could feel it… not just from the soft murmur on her lips, but from the mental waves escaping her weakened mind like distant echoes. Broken thoughts, frayed memories: her husband, her son… and always, always Nate.
The woman hovered between two worlds, clinging to the frayed threads of life with her fingernails. Edward felt the guilt building up inside. He hadn't just failed a kind soul like hers… he'd also failed Nate. Nate, who, despite being human, had given everything to protect Bella—the girl he loved.
Edward felt powerless, unable to return the favor even with all his gifts.
Then, the voice of Mrs. Winter emerged from the sound of the machines. Barely a whisper, ragged, like each word tore a piece of soul from her.
"Please… forgive me…"
Edward frowned, leaning closer, listening carefully to every breath escaping her dry throat.
Mrs. Winter cried in silence. Her cheeks trembled with small, warm tears. Her broken voice insisted:
"Forgive me, Nathaniel… I don't want to leave you alone…"
Edward felt something break inside him, a void opening that couldn't be closed. He knelt beside her bed, took her hand in his, and held it with the greatest care he could. Despite the fragility of her touch, she responded with a faint squeeze—the last act of love her weakened body could offer.
The silence became unbearable. The pain of another engulfed him, drowned him. Edward felt as though he were grieving. All he wanted was to ease this woman's pain. It took him a few seconds to make his decision.
With a trembling voice, adopting the tenderness Nate would have used, he leaned in and whispered in her ear:
"I promise I'll be okay, Grandma..."
Then, as if those words had brought her peace, her breathing grew calmer. A soft—almost childlike—smile appeared on her lips. It lasted barely a second. Then her face relaxed completely. The line on the monitor went flat. A sharp, cold beep sliced through the air.
Edward didn't move. He stayed there, holding her hand, as if sheer will could return warmth to her fingers. But it was useless. He knew it instantly.
Death was already in the room, wrapping everything in its still breath.
The doctors burst in. They tried to revive her. Edward stepped back in silence, just another shadow among the shadows. The beeping continued.
Finally, the doctor lowered his arms—exhausted, defeated. He looked at the nurse with resigned eyes and said,
"Please note the time of death..."
At those words, Edward squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't know what to do. The weight of the moment pressed down on his chest, as if all the air in the hallway had vanished.
The doctor, still speaking softly and with respect, asked,
"Do you know if she has any relatives we should inform?"
Edward nodded slowly, as if every movement hurt.
"She only has one... but he's out of town."
The doctor nodded with understanding, then turned to a nurse and told her to take down the number to make the call. But before she could write anything, Edward spoke—his voice uncertain, almost pleading:
"Excuse me… he's my friend. Could I be the one to tell him?"
The doctor and nurse exchanged a quiet glance. It wasn't standard procedure, but the sorrow etched into the young man's face—the dim glow in his golden eyes—said more than words ever could. After a moment of silence, the doctor gave a gentle nod.
"All right."
Edward bowed his head in gratitude, his voice barely a whisper.
He stepped into the hallway without looking back. His steps were steady, but his soul dragged behind him under the weight of a broken promise.
He stopped beside the wall, took a deep breath, and pulled out his phone, his hands shaking. His fingers moved slowly, ready to dial.
He knew what came next wouldn't be easy.
He knew he was about to break Nate's heart