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The wolves tightened their formation more and more, closing the circle with an almost military instinct. Their bodies trembled with adrenaline, muscles tense, fur standing on end—ready to leap if the situation exploded. Around them, the newborn vampires watched with bright, hungry eyes, unable to hide the primal urge to attack… yet not daring to make the first move. They seemed torn between the desire to prove their worth and the fear of striking at something they still didn't fully understand.
Vladimir watched them with a hint of fascination, like someone examining a piece that didn't quite fit on the board but might still prove useful. His cold eyes slowly shifted toward Nate, waiting, perhaps, for an explanation. But Nate didn't waste time giving context. His voice rang out with such commanding authority that even the air seemed to harden around them:
"Do not attack anyone unless they attack first. We're here to talk."
The silence that followed carried a different weight. Several newborns lowered their gaze immediately, obeying without question, almost as if those words triggered an ingrained reflex. Others stood frozen for seconds, staring at Nate and the wolves, shocked to see him so composed, so steady, so… untouchable. His torn clothes were the only evidence of what had happened minutes earlier. And, as always, their leader's aura of invincibility grew even stronger in their minds.
No one seemed to notice the wound on his back: a barely visible mark that slowly sealed itself, as if Nate's body refused to accept the concept of damage.
He then shifted his gaze toward Jacob. The alpha wolf was trembling slightly—not from physical fear, but from the storm raging inside his mind. Dozens of voices echoed at once through the pack bond: some filled with panic, others burning with rage, others urging caution. Jacob felt as if his brain were a closed room packed with overlapping screams.
Among the chaos, one voice finally rose above the rest: Sam's calm, steady, and unwavering tone.
"We're with you in whatever you decide, Jacob. If you want us to attack and kill as many bloodsuckers as we can, we'll fight with you until the end. If you decide to listen to what that monster has to say, we'll follow you as well."
The veteran wolves lifted their heads, silently confirming that they shared that exact stance: the alpha would decide, and they would uphold that decision with their lives.
But not all of them were seasoned warriors. From the far corners of the mental link came cracked whispers, shaky breaths, and thoughts far too young to hide their terror.
"We couldn't even handle the first leech… and now we have to fight all of these…?"
"I just want to go home…"
Some thoughts became silent internal sobs. They were children. Newly transformed. Dragged into a war they didn't even understand.
Jacob clenched his teeth and let out a fractured breath, as if for a moment he had forgotten that he was responsible for protecting the youngest as well. Reality struck him hard: they weren't soldiers… they were sons, siblings, teenagers still learning to control their bodies and their instincts.
He lifted his eyes toward Nate. The vampire stood tall, firm, imposing, as if he hadn't fought an entire battle just moments before. His clothes were a disaster, but he looked untouched. Serene. Ready for whatever came next.
Meanwhile, Jacob and his pack were wounded, exhausted, torn apart inside. And now, with dozens of vampires surrounding them, he understood that the decision he was about to make wouldn't only affect his pride or his will: it would determine the fate of every member of his pack… and perhaps the fate of all Forks.
The weight of the alpha fell upon him again like a mountain. And this time, there was no way to escape it.
Jacob inhaled deeply before stepping back, positioning himself at the center of the lupine formation. The other wolves tensed in confusion, but no one moved. Silence fell like a thick, damp weight, difficult to swallow.
Vladimir narrowed his eyes, surprised, when the massive wolf with copper fur began to transform. The cracking bones, the steam rising from skin, flesh folding and stretching as if obeying some ancient shamanic magic… the process was fast, almost elegant, yet brutally raw. Within seconds, Jacob emerged at the center of his pack, human once more, chest heaving, covered only by trembling scraps of improvised pants, his gaze fixed on the ground as if it had earned the right to judge him.
When he finally lifted his head, his expression was painfully conflicted: wounded pride, repressed frustration, and a weariness that came not only from his body, but from his soul. He looked first at the vampires, then at Nate. Part of him seemed ready to growl as if still transformed, while another part shrank, feeling exposed, vulnerable, inferior.
Nate watched him calmly, without a trace of mockery or superiority. When he spoke, his voice was firm but even, tempered like the edge of a blade too sharp to need proving anything.
"I told you I never underestimated you. You and your pack are strong, Jacob. But I took precautions—strategic measures. No matter how powerful you are alone… You will always need allies, support, numbers, and vision."
Jacob clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. Only months ago, Nate had been like a brother: a mentor, a role model, a dependable presence. Someone to look up to with sincere admiration, even affection. And now he stood there, a vampire, lecturing him on strategy as if their friendship were untouched.
The blow wasn't physical, but it hurt more than any claw or fang.
Jacob raised his eyes, filled with resentment that burned and ached all at once. His voice came out low, dry, and sharpened.
"I don't need your advice, Winter. Just tell me what you're going to do now."
His eyes scanned the circle of newborns, their coiled muscles, the latent threat. The scene was so clear it already felt written in blood.
Nate didn't retreat at the tone, nor did he shift his posture. He stepped forward and, as if the wind obeyed him, a cold current swept between both sides just as Alice appeared beside him. She stood by him with silent certainty, and for a moment she stared at Vladimir with a dangerous gleam before taking Nate's arm—claiming him and shielding him at once.
Nate responded with a small, tender smile—soft, intimate, warm… completely incompatible with the image of the predator who had fought an entire pack alone only minutes ago. The newborns looked at him, bewildered. Some wolves frowned, unable to process how a monster could shift into such a human gesture.
Jacob swallowed hard. That smile stirred memories that hurt like reopened wounds. For an instant—brief but brutal—he missed him. The human Nate. The brother Nate. The Nate that perhaps would never return.
Nate gently squeezed Alice's hand before speaking, locking his eyes on Jacob's.
"As I said from the beginning… the decision is yours, Jacob."
Jacob swallowed again, unable to stop himself. His throat burned, as if shame had fused to his skin. When he spoke, his voice came out weaker than he meant it to be—almost breaking.
"After all of this… after we tried to kill you… You would still let us go and restore the treaty? You have all the advantages. Even without all these bloodsuckers, I think you could take most of us down on your own."
The last words felt like they burned his tongue. Admitting that to Nate, to his pack, to the vampires… was a defeat far deeper than any physical wound.
Nate showed no reaction whatsoever. No satisfaction, no pride, no condescension. Only an unmoving face, like a statue carved specifically to never reveal its cracks.
"If I wanted to kill all of you, I would have done it from the beginning, Jacob. Like I already told you, no matter how much power I have, it's not a reason to make enemies everywhere. If you're willing to reinstate the treaty and protect Forks alongside the Cullens, then I have no further business here."
Jacob opened his mouth, but a voice cut through the air the exact moment he inhaled to respond—its tone dripping like slow poison across the clearing.
"Are you going to let them walk away just like that, Nathaniel?"
Vladimir spoke with disbelief and a serpentine tone that vibrated beneath the forest floor, glaring at the wolves with disdain.
"What guarantee do you have that once you leave, they'll continue respecting that ridiculous truce? Look at them… they can't do anything anymore. This is the moment, Nathaniel. Make them choose: bow their heads and serve us… or let the newborns stain the river with their blood."
The newborns reacted instantly. Some growled; others took a step forward, eager, almost drooling with a mix of excitement and hunger. The tension became almost physical, like compressed air—until a single look from Nate dragged everything back into absolute silence.
Nate narrowed his eyes and locked them on Vladimir. His gaze was so cold and so deep that even the Romanian's mocking expression collapsed for a second, revealing a faint flicker of caution.
"Remember that I am the one making decisions here. That was the agreement. And don't think I forgot that you acted behind my back."
For a moment, Vladimir seemed cornered. But the discomfort quickly morphed into a smooth, calculated, nearly charming smile.
"Of course, I know that, Nathaniel. I'm simply saying these creatures could be useful. They're similar to the Children of the Moon, but they function in packs. It could be an advantage when… domesticating them. Besides, you said it yourself — we will always need more people."
There was a gleam of greed in his eyes, one he didn't bother hiding.
Then he added, with a sweeter tone—a near whisper, but loud enough for everyone to hear:
"And right now they're obedient because you're here. But who's to say that once we leave, they won't bear their fangs against your partner's family? Your own family… You wouldn't want to return halfway through the hunt for the vampire you're desperate to capture, right…?"
Jacob narrowed his eyes at the blond vampire's words. Rage surged through his chest like a sudden wildfire, consuming every rational thought. It made him sick to hear him speak about his pack as if they were half-tamed beasts, creatures without honor or history. To the vampire standing before him, the dignity and purpose of the Quileute seemed worth no more than mud under his boots.
For a fleeting instant, a dangerous shadow crossed Jacob's mind: maybe they would all die here. Maybe that was the proper ending. He felt sorry for the younger ones… but if their fate was to fall, he preferred to do it with their muzzles drenched in blood, their fangs buried in enemy flesh, and the legacy of their clan still intact… rather than bow to a disgustingly arrogant and manipulative vampire.
The muscles in his back tightened, fury trembling through his spine, and the call of the wolf vibrated within his bones. He prepared to transform again, even knowing they didn't stand a chance. His breathing turned rough, a growl building in his throat. He was ready to leap, to tear, to rip, to die—
Then, a single sentence sliced through the tension like a blade of crystal:
"I trust the word of the Quileute."
Nate's voice was not a shout, nor a plea, nor a warning. It was firm… and surprisingly human.
Jacob's eyes widened in disbelief. Nate continued, his tone serene, almost ceremonial:
"A former chief made the previous treaty of the pack. I understand its weight isn't the same now… but if you, Jacob Black, current Alpha, give me your word, then I will leave without looking back."
Alice gently squeezed Nate's hand, as if reinforcing each syllable. His voice softened slightly as he finished:
"I want to believe that this time… you won't fail. Am I right, Jacob?"
Nate's red eyes locked onto his: intense, but not cruel. There was no mockery, no threat, no demand. It was a transparent gaze—almost bare—as if he wanted to show he had nothing left to hide.
Jacob remained completely still, trapped inside that heavy silence, understanding at once the true weight of those words. Even after what happened with his grandmother, even after the bitterness, the pain, the humiliation, and the blood, Nate was offering him a way out that did not steal his soul.
In his fractured way, it was an attempt at peace.
Jacob closed his eyes. A long, deep breath escaped him, and for the first time since the fight began, his muscles loosened. He let go of fear, rage, and wounded pride, holding onto only what could never be allowed to fail: his responsibility.
The voices from the mental bond exploded in his mind—crying, arguing, demanding… but he let them fall behind him like rain.
When he spoke, he did it with the voice only a true Alpha can use: clear, ancient, and bound by oath.
"I, Jacob Black, leader of the Quileute wolf pack, give you my word that we will never again raise a hand against the Cullen family. As long as my blood remains on this land, as long as my lineage carries the spirit of the wolf, the Quileute will not forget what happened today… nor what could have been."